Letitia Elizabeth Landon - The Legacy of the Lute

Lyrics

Come, take the lute—the lute I loved 'Tis all I have to offer thee; And may it be less fatal gift Than it has ever been to me My sigh yet lingers on the strings The strings I have not heart to break: Wilt thou not, dearest! keep the lute For my—for the departed's sake? But pray thee do not wake that lute; Leave it upon the cypress tree: I would have crushed its charmed chords But they so oft were strung to thee The minstrеl-lute! oh, touch it not Or weary destiny is thinе; Thy life a twilight's haunted dream— Thou, victim at an idol's shrine Thy breath but lives on others' lips— Thy hope, a thing beyond the grave— Thy heart, bare to the vulture's beak— Thyself, a bound and barter'd slave And yet a dangerous charm o'er all A bright but ignis-fatuus flame Luring thee with a show of power Dazzling thee with a blaze of fame It is to waste on careless hearts The throbbing music of thine own; To speak love's burning words, yet be Alone—ay, utterly alone I sought to fling my laurel wreath Away upon the autumn wind: In vain,—'twas like those poison'd crowns Thou mayst not from the brow unbind Predestined from my birth to feed On dreams, yet watch those dreams depart; To bear through life—to feel in death— A burning and a broken heart Then hang it on the cypress bough The minstrel-lute I leave to thee; And be it only for the wind To wake its mournful dirge for me I pray thee, dearest one! forget All that can link my thought with fame; I'd have thee but recall those songs Whose only music was thy name