THE SPINET
My heart an old Spinet with strings
To laughter chiefly turned, but some
That Fate has practised hard on, dumb,
They answer not whoever sings.
The ghosts of half-forgotten things
Will touch the keys with fingers numb,
The little mocking spirits come
And thrill it with their fairy wings.
A jingling harmony it makes
My heart, my lyre, my old Spinet,
And now a memory it wakes,
And now the music means "forget,"
And little heed the player takes
Howe'er the thoughtful critic fret.
NOTES
The Fortunate Islands.
This piece is a rhymed loose version of a passage in the Vera
Historia of Lucian. The humorist was unable to resist the
temptation to introduce passages of mockery, which are here
omitted. Part of his description of the Isles of the Blest has a
close and singular resemblance to the New Jerusalem of the
Apocalypse. The clear River of Life and the prodigality of gold
and of precious stones may especially be noticed.
WHOSO DOTH TASTE THE DEAD MEN'S BREAD, &.c. This belief that the
living may visit, on occasion, the dwellings of the dead, but can
never return to earth if they taste the food of the departed, is
expressed in myths of worldwide distribution. Because she ate the
pomegranate seed, Persephone became subject to the spell of Hades.
Pages:
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53