For worth shall look fairer, and truth more bright, When we think how he lived but to love them! And, as buried saints have given perfume To shrines where they've been lying, So our hearts shall borrow a sweet'ning bloom THE ORIGIN OF THE HARP. AIR.-Gage Fane. I. 'Tis believed that this Harp, which I wake now for thee, Was a Siren of old, who sung under the sea; And who, often at eve, through the bright billow roved, To meet, on the green shore, a youth whom she loved. II. But she loved him in vain, for he left her to`weep, And in tears, all the night, her gold ringlets to steep, Till Heaven look'd, with pity, on true-love so warm, And changed to this soft Harp the sea-maiden's form! III. Still her bosom rose fair-still her cheek smiled the same While her sea-beauties gracefully curl'd round the frame> And her hair, shedding tear-drops from all its bright rings, Fell over her white arm, to make the gold strings !* IV. Hence it came, that this soft Harp so long hath been Till thou didst divide them, and teach the fond lay *This thought was suggested by an ingenious design, prefixed to an ode upon St. Cecilia, published some years since, by Mr. Hudson of Dublin. |