O soothe me, my lyre

O soothe me, my lyre, with thy tones of soft sorrow,

O soothe thy sad mistress that sinks in decay,

Fainter today, to be fainter tomorrow,

I fade like the flow'r and am passing away.

Pale is my cheek, - it was fair as they told me -

Who in the dance that but lately had been,

Who that had seen me, and now should behold me,

Would think me the Ellen that there he had seen?

Dear was the world - I had youth, I had beauty,

But 'tis not for life that I heave this sad sigh -

Firm is my soul in its hope and its duty, -

But oh! To be lov'd - then untimely to die.