Come Hither, Child

Come hither, child, who gifted thee     With power to touch that string so well?     How darest thou rouse up thoughts in me,     Thoughts that I would, but cannot quell?     Nay, chide not, lady; long ago     I heard those notes in Ula's hall,     And had I known they'd waken woe     I'd weep their music to recall.     But thus it was: one festal night     When I was hardly six years old     I stole away from crowds and light     And sought a chamber dark and cold.     I had no one to love me there,     I knew no comrade and no friend;     And so I went to sorrow where     Heaven, only heaven saw me bend.     Loud blew the wind; 'twas sad to stay     From all that splendour barred away.     I imaged in the lonely room     A thousand forms of fearful gloom.     And with my wet eyes raised on high     I prayed to God that I might die.     Suddenly in that silence drear     A sound of music reached my ear,     And then a note, I hear it yet,     So full of soul, so deeply sweet,     I thought that Gabriel's self had come     To take me to thy father's home.     Three times it rose, that seraph strain,     Then died, nor breathed again;     But still the words and still the tone     Dwell round my heart when all alone.