My soul is dark - Oh! quickly string br The harp I yet can brook to hear; br And let thy gentle fingers fling br Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. br If in this heart a hope be dear, br That sound shall charm it forth again: br If in these eyes there lurk a tear, br 'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain. br br But bid the strain be wild and deep, br Nor let thy notes of joy be first: br I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep, br Or else this heavy heart will burst; br For it hath been by sorrow nursed, br And ached in sleepless silence, long; br And now 'tis doomed to know the worst, br And break at once - or yield to song.