Salmagundi (Huddesford, 1791)/Ode 4

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ODE IV.

TO LESBIA'S LUTE.

Ye trembling strings, from whose vibration flowsJoy's thrilling tide and sadly pleasing woe:Soothing the sense, yet to the soul's reposeDestructive as the Nerve of Cupid's Bow!
With gentlest melody in Lesbia's ear(If any mortal sounds have pow'r to tell)Whisper how much I hope—how much I fear—The pity I implore—the pains I feel.
When her fleet touch calls forth th' enlivening strainBid rapture float upon the charmed air:Tell her, when sad th' expressive notes complain:"So breathes thy bard the sigh of deep despair."
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Of yore such sounds, as thrill th' enamour'd breastWhen Lesbia's hands the silver chords embrace,Could lull th' embattled elements to rest,Bend knotted oaks, and tame a ruthless race;
Yet, Lesbia! like thy lute tho' Orpheus strungHis lyre to strains divine, its amorous lordFor Thee had left Euridice unsung,And Pluto's gloomy confines unexplor'd.
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