The legacy/The Legacy

The Legacy.

(A FAVOURITE SONG.)

WHEN in death I shall calm recline,
O bear my heart to my mistress dear,
Tell her it liv’d upon smiles and wine
Of the brightest hue while it linger’d here,
Bid her not shed one tear of sorrow,
To sully an eye so brilliant and bright,
For balmy drops of the red grape borrow,
To bathe its relict from morn till night.

When the light of my sun is o’er,
O! bear this harp to yon ancient hall,
Or hang it up at some friendly door
Where weary travellers love to call;
And if some bard who roams forsaken
Revive its soft notes while passing along,
O! let one thought of its master awaken
The warmest wish of the child of song.

Take this cup which is now o’erflowing,
To grace your revels when I’m a rest,
Never, O! never its balm bestowing
On lips which beauty has seldom press’d;
Then if some warm devoted lover
To her he adores ere bath its brim,
O! then my spirit arround shall hover
To hallow each wish that’s form’d by him.