Лукреция Мария Дэвидсон (Lucretia Maria Davidson)

My Last Farewell to My Harp

And must we part? yes, part for ever;
I'll waken thee again — no, never;
Silence shall chain thee cold and drear,
And thou shalt calmly slumber here.
Unhallowed was the eve that gazed
Upon the lamp which brightly blazed,
The lamp which never can expire,
The undying, wild, poetic fire.
And Oh! unhallowed was the tongue
Which boldly and uncouthly sung;
I bless'd the hour when o'er my soul,
Thy magic numbers gently stole,
And o'er it threw those heavenly strains,
Which since have bound my heart in chains;
Those wild, those witching numbers still
Will o'er my widow'd bosom steal.
I blest that hour, but Oh! my heart,
Thou and thy Lyre must part; yes, part;
And this shall be my last farewell,
This my sad bosom's latest knell.
And here, my harp, we part for ever;
I'll waken thee again, Oh! never;
Silence shall chain thee cold and drear,
And thou shalt calmly slumber here.

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