dear harp of my country! in darkness i found thee,
the cold chain of silence had hung o´er thee long;
when proudly, my own island harp! i unbound thee,
and gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song!

the warm lay of love and the light tone of gladness
have waken´d thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill;
but so oft has thou echo´d the deep sigh of sadness,
that e´en in thy mirth it will steal from thee still.
dear harp of my country! farewell to thy numbers.
this sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine;
go, sleep with the sunshine of fame on thy slumbers,
till touch´d by some hand less unworthy than mine.
if the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover,
have throbb´d at our lay, ´tis thy glory alone;
i was but as the wind, passing heedlessly over,
and all the wild sweetness i waked was thy own!