Classic Poem

Farewell , wild Harp! whose slumbering melody
With venturous touch I have essayed to wake;
Harp, which high bards to notes of ecstasy
Have struck, till Heaven's blue archway seem'd to shake;
And some a softer tone have bid thee take,
While numbers passing sweet, yet wild and lorn
As their own fate, they breathed from hearts that brake.
So the bird leans her bosom on the thorn,
And warbles sweetliest then when most her breast is torn.

And not in vain, O not in vain the lay,
Tho' Fame should ne'er upon her votary glance;
Tho' he go down to darkness and decay,
Unwept, unhonoured, 'mid the world's wild dance,
Where wealth, pomp, pleasure, mightier claims advance:
Yet it may loose him from care's subtle ties,
And soothe his soul; like incense, which perchance
Will not majestically mount the skies,
Yet scents the altar still whence first it strove to rise.
Farewell! — there's misery in the word, yet how
With eager ear upon the sound we dwell;
Farewell! — it dims the eye and clouds the brow,
Yet the heart breaks, unless we say " Farewell! "
And O my Harp, unbidden notes will swell,
Saddening my song as o'er thy strings I cast
A trembling hand, and broken accents tell
My heart is throbbing as I say, " 'Tis past! "
And breathe to thee a long farewell, perchance a last.