For works with similar titles, see The Wandering Minstrel.
THE WANDERING MINSTREL.
Oh! ask no gayer measure From the Wand'ring Minstrel lone;Of lays of mirth and pleasure Even memory is gone.Ask ye for words of gladness 'Mid the mourner's bitter woe?Seek ye a tale of love from one Whose hopes have been laid low?Kneel ye to call to earth again The loved ones who are gone,Ere ye ask a gayer measure Of the Wand'ring Minstrel lone. As the soul-wearied pilgrim, Through a world of ceaseless care,Watches, at last, fate's low'ring clouds Sweep by, without despair—So is it with the stricken heart, Whose dreams of joy are o'er;Through its drear path of life, deceived By hope's mirage no more:So is it with the heart ye seek To gladden, as your own,The sickening, unpitied heart Of the Wand'ring Minstrel lone.
Would ye raise the fancied cup of bliss To the pale and trembling lip,And bid it dream it tastes the draught It, waking, could not sip?Would ye ask for tones of gladness, Whose echoes must be sighs?Would ye seek for sunny smiles of joy, In wan and care-dimmed eyes?Then ask not lays of pleasure Where their memory is gone;Ye can list no gayer measure From the Wand'ring Minstrel lone.R. A.