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letra de letitia elizabeth landon - the legacy of the lute - ghizela rowe

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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

- ghizela rowe

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