Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/347



, 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 mine—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.