4
To twine around them wreaths of blooming flow'rs,
And wake to melody its every string.
Now round that lyre I cypress garlands wreathe,
And bid its tones be plaintive, soft, and low:
For vain the wish that it again should breathe
Aught but the wailings of despair and woe.
Perchance 'twill soothe awhile my bosom's pain,
Then, gentle lyre, I'll hang thee up again.
And wake to melody its every string.
Now round that lyre I cypress garlands wreathe,
And bid its tones be plaintive, soft, and low:
For vain the wish that it again should breathe
Aught but the wailings of despair and woe.
Perchance 'twill soothe awhile my bosom's pain,
Then, gentle lyre, I'll hang thee up again.
ADDRESS TO HOPE.
Say, lovely Hope, thou bland enticer, say
Why with false joys deceive my trusting heart;
Why sing so sweetly thy seductive lay,
And bid my sorrows for awhile depart?
Why with false joys deceive my trusting heart;
Why sing so sweetly thy seductive lay,
And bid my sorrows for awhile depart?
