Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark, <br />On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; <br />In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, <br />The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending. <br />Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending, <br />And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy; <br />Thy numbers sweet with nature’s vespers blending, <br />With distant echo from the fold and lea, <br />And herd-boy’s evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. <br /> <br />Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp! <br />Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, <br />And little reck I of the censure sharp <br />May idly cavil at an idle lay. <br />Much have I owed thy strains on life’s long way, <br />Through secret woes the world has never known, <br />When on the weary night dawned wearier day, <br />And bitterer was the grief devoured alone.— <br />That I o’erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own. <br /> <br />Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, <br />Some spirit of the Air has waked thy string! <br />’Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, <br />’Tis now the brush of Fairy’s frolic wing. <br />Receding now, the dying numbers ring <br />Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell; <br />And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring <br />A wandering witch-note of the distant spell— <br />And now, ’tis silent all!—Enchantress, fare thee well!<br /><br />Sir Walter Scott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/harp-of-the-north-farewell/
