The harp the Monarch Minstrel swept
I
The harp the Monarch Minstrel swept,
The King of men, the lov'd of Heav'n,
Which Music hallowed while she wept
O'er tones her heart of hearts had giv'n,
Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riv'n!
It soften'd men of iron mould,
It gave them virtues not their own;
No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
That felt not—fired not to the tone,
Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne!
II
It told the triumphs of our King—
It wafted glory to our God—
It made our gladdened vallies ring—
The cedars bow—the mountains nod—
Its sound aspired to Heaven and there abode!
Since then—though heard on earth no more—
Devotion and her daughter Love
Still bid the bursting spirit soar
To sounds that seem as from above
In dreams that day's broad light can not remove.
poem by Byron from The Hebrew Melodies (1815)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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