ELEGIAC LINES.
Awake, my mournful harp, once more,
Awake and sing thy saddest strain!
Thrice have I tried to touch my lyre,
And thrice my efforts proved in vain.
Awake and sing thy saddest strain!
Thrice have I tried to touch my lyre,
And thrice my efforts proved in vain.
But now, with trembling sadness, I
Haste to obey a loved request:
Would that with holy feeling I
Could every word and thought invest.
Haste to obey a loved request:
Would that with holy feeling I
Could every word and thought invest.
Mournful indeed, and sad thy fate;
Far, far from all to thee most dear,
To wrestle with the monster Death,
Within that desert lone and dear.
Far, far from all to thee most dear,
To wrestle with the monster Death,
Within that desert lone and dear.
