Video Awake Awake My Lyre de Abraham Cowley 2025 Lyrics Lyrics

Abraham Cowley - Awake Awake My Lyre Lyrics

Awake, awake, my Lyre!
And tell thy silent master's humble tale
In sounds that may prevail;
Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire
Though so exalted she
And I so lowly be
Tell her, such different notes make all thy harmony

Hark! how the strings awake:
And, though the moving hand approach not near
Themselves with awful fear
A kind of numerous trembling make
Now all thy forces try;
Now all thy charms apply;
Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye

Weak Lyre! thy virtue sure
Is useless here, since thou art only found
To cure, but not to wound
And she to wound, but not to cure
Too weak too wilt thou prove
My passion to remove
Physic to other ill, thou'rt nourishment to love

Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre!
For thou can'st never tell my humble tale
In sounds that may prevail
Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire;
All thy vain mirth lay by
Bid thy strings silent lie
Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre, and let thy master die