The chain I gave was fair to view,
The lute I added sweet in sound,
The heart that offered both was true,
And ill deserv’d the fate it found.
These gifts were charm’d by secret spell
Thy truth in absence to divine;
And they have done their duty well,
Alas! they could not teach thee thine.
That chain was firm in every link.
But not to bear a stranger’s touch;
That lute was sweet—till thou could’st think
In other hands ts notes were such.
Let him, who from thy neck unbound
The chain which shiver’d in his grasp,
Who saw that lute refuse to sound,
Restring the chords, renew the clasp.
When thou wert chang’d, they alter’d too;
The chain is broke, the music mute:
’Tis past—to them and thee adieu—
False heart, frail chain, and silent lute.