Dear Harp of my Country! in darkness I found thee,
The cold chain of silence had hung o`er thee long;
When proudly, my own Island Harp! I unbound thee,
And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song!
The warm lay of love and the light tone of gladness
Have waken`d thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill;
But so oft has thou echo`d the deep sigh of sadness,
That e`en in thy mirth it will steal from thee still.
Dear Harp of my Country! farewell to thy numbers.
This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine;
Go, sleep with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumbers,
Till touch`d by some hand less unworthy than mine.
If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover,
Have throbb`d at our lay, `tis thy glory alone;
I was but as the wind, passing heedlessly over,
And all the wild sweetness I waked was thy own!
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