| William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Restoration Verse. 1910. | | | | David’s Song | | By Abraham Cowley (1618–1667) |
| | | AWAKE, 1 awake my Lyre, | |
| And tell thy silent master’s humble tale, | |
| In sounds that may prevail; | |
| Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire, | |
| Though so exalted she | 5 |
| And I so lowly be, | |
| Tell her such different notes make all thy harmony. | |
| |
| Hark, how the strings awake, | |
| And though the moving hand approach not near, | |
| Themselves with awful fear, | 10 |
| A kind of numerous trembling make. | |
| Now all thy forces try, | |
| Now all thy charms apply, | |
| Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye. | |
| |
| Weak Lyre! thy virtue sure | 15 |
| Is useless here, since thou art only found | |
| To cure, but not to wound, | |
| And she to wound, but not to cure. | |
| Too weak too wilt thou prove | |
| My passion to remove, | 20 |
| Physic to other ills, thou’rt nourishment to Love. | |
| |
| Sleep, sleep again my Lyre; | |
| For thou can’st never tell my humble tale, | |
| In sounds that will prevail, | |
| Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire; | 25 |
| All thy vain mirth lay by, | |
| Bid thy strings silent lie, | |
| Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre, and let thy Master die. | |
| | | Note 1. From Davideis, a Sacred Poem of the Troubles of David, Bk. III, 1668. [back] | | |
|
|
|
