O BID the minstrel tune his harp, br And bid the minstrel sing; br And let it be a perfect strain br That round the hall shall ring: br A strain to throb in lady's heart, br To brim the warrior's soul, br As dew fills up the summer rose br And wine the lordly bowl! br br O let the minstrel's voice ring clear, br His touch sweep gay and light; br Nor let his glittering tresses know br One streak of wintry white.