by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Come hither child who gifted thee
Language: English 
Come hither child who gifted thee
With power to touch that string so well
How [dare you wake]1 thoughts in me
Thoughts that I would but cannot quell ?


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 [wend]3

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 eye 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 my fathers home

Three times it rose that seraph strain
Then died nor lived ever again
But still the words and still the tone
Swell round my heart when all alone

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View original text (without footnotes)
Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff
1 Bronte: "darest thou rouse up"
2 lines 5-8 omitted by Fisk
3 Bronte: "bend"


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

Researcher for this text: Terry Fisk

This text was added to the website: 2004-03-22
Line count: 29
Word count: 198