Poem by George Gordon Byron

Hebrew Melodies 9. My Soul Is Dark

My soul is dark - Oh! quickly string
     The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling
     Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,
     That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
     'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.

But bid the strain be wild and deep,
     Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
     Or else this heavy heart will burst;
For it hath been by sorrow nursed,
     And ached in sleepless silence, long;
And now 'tis doomed to know the worst,
     And break at once - or yield to song. 

1. Churchill’s Grave
2. Epitaph
3. On a Change of Masters at a Great Public School
4. Lines Addressed to a Young Lady
5. To the Earl of Clare

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