| Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922. | | | | The Lyre, II | | By George Darley (1795–1846) |
| | | LISTEN to the Lyre! | |
| Listen to the knelling of its sweet-toned ditty! | |
| Shrilly now as Pain resounds the various wire, | |
| Now as soft as Pity! | |
| Soft as Pity! | 5 |
| |
| Will the Dreamer know, | |
| Who upon the melancholy harp loves weeping— | |
| Dreamer, it is I that tell the tale of woe, | |
| Still while thou art sleeping, | |
| Thou art sleeping? | 10 |
| |
| Thrilling up the strings, | |
| Down again to murmur of my own deep sorrow! | |
| Raving o’er its bosom while the night-wind sings, | |
| Silent all the morrow! | |
| All the morrow! | 15 |
| |
| The deceitful breeze | |
| Sighing here to imitate my song doth glory, | |
| Weetless of my woes; it cannot tell thee these. | |
| Listen to my story! | |
| To my story! | 20 |
| |
| I was once the flower, | |
| The all-belovèd lily of this sweet, sweet valley; | |
| Every wooing Zephyr came to this green bower | |
| Fain and fond to dally! | |
| Fond to dally! | 25 |
| |
| I could love but one; | |
| He had loved me ever, but the flood’s green daughters | |
| With their siren music drew the sweet youth down, | |
| Down beneath the waters, | |
| ’Neath the waters! | 30 |
| |
| In the roaring wave | |
| Like a silly maiden did I plunge down after, | |
| Where amid the billows I was shown my grave | |
| With a hideous laughter! | |
| Hideous laughter! | 35 |
| |
| I was call’d above, | |
| But I found no happiness in lone, lone Heaven; | |
| So because I would not, could not, cease to love, | |
| Earthward I was driven, | |
| I was driven! | 40 |
| |
| Like a wingèd dream | |
| Here amid the bowers of my youth I hover, | |
| Wailing o’er my sorrows to the deep, chill stream | |
| Where I lost my lover, | |
| Lost my lover! | 45 |
| |
| In his oozy bed | |
| Coffinless he slumbers, with the wild flood rolling: | |
| Mermen are his ringers and his dirge is dread, | |
| Still for ever tolling! | |
| Ever tolling! | 50 |
| |
| Hearken to the knell! | |
| Hear it through the booming of the loud-voiced billows! | |
| Hear it how it dingles like a clear death-bell, | |
| Underneath the willows, | |
| ’Neath the willows! | 55 |
| |
| In the desert hours, | |
| Lyrist of thy visions, all my woes repeating, | |
| With my tears for jewels do I fill the flowers, | |
| While the stars are fleeting, | |
| Stars are fleeting! | 60 |
| |
| Thou wilt doubt the tale, | |
| Wilt not still believe my woes.—Thy harp bear token! | |
| See, its very bosom-strings with this deep wail, | |
| All, like mine, are broken! | |
| Mine are broken! | 65 | | | |
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