Tis believed that this Harp, which I wake now for thee <br />Was a Siren of old, who sung under the sea; <br />And who often, at eve, through the bright waters roved, <br />To meet, on the green shore, a youth whom she loved. <br /> <br />But she loved him in vain, for he left her to weep, <br />And in tears, all the night, her gold tresses to steep, <br />Till heaven look'd with pity on true-love so warm, <br />And changed to this soft Harp the sea-maiden's form. <br /> <br />Still her bosom rose fair -- still her cheeks smiled the same -- <br />While her sea-beauties gracefully form'd the light <br />And her hair, as, let loose, o'er her white arm it fell, <br />Was changed to bright chords uttering melody's spell. <br /> <br />Hence it came, that this soft Harp so long hath been known <br />To mingle love's language with sorrow's sad tone; <br />Till thou didst divide them, and teach the fond lay <br />To speak love when I'm near thee, and grief when away.<br /><br />Thomas Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-origin-of-the-harp/
