The chain I gave was fair to view,
The lute I added sweet in sound;
The heart that offered both was true,
And ill deserved the fate it found.
These gifts were charmed 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 couldst think
In other hands its notes were such.
Let him who from thy neck unbound
The chain which shivered in his grasp,
Who saw that lute refuse to sound,
Restring the chords, renew the clasp.
When thou wert changed, they altered too;
The chain is broke, the music mute,
‘Tis past—to them and thee adieu—
False heart, frail chain, and silent lute.
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