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The Book of Scottish Song/The Minstrel Sleeps

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The Minstrel Sleeps.

[Written on the death of Sir Walter Scott, by Robert Gilfillan. Set to Music by Finlay Dun.]

The Minstrel sleeps! the charm is o'er,
The bowl beside the fount is broken,
And we shall hear that harp no more
Whose tones to every land hath spoken!

The Minstrel sleeps! and common clay
Claims what is only common now,
His eye hath lost its kindling ray,
And darkness sits upon his brow!

The Minstrel sleeps!—the spell is past,
His spirit its last flight hath taken;
The magic wand is broke at last
Whose touch all things to life could waken!

The Minstrel sleeps!—the glory's fled,
The soul's returned back to the giver,
And all that e'er could die is dead
Of him whose name shall live for ever!

The minstrel sleeps!—and genius mourns
In tears of woe, and sighs of sorrow;
For though each day his song returns,
The Minstrel's voice, it knows no morrow!

The Minstrel sleeps!—and death, oh! thou
Hast laid the mighty with the slain—
The mantle fallen is folded now,
And who may it unfold again?