LRC歌词下载
[00:00.000] 作曲 : Ludwig van Beethoven[00:29.296]The sun upon the Weirdlaw hill,[00:33.972]in Ettrick's vale is sinking sweet;[00:41.051]the westland wind is hush and still,[00:45.832]the lake lies sleeping at my feet.[00:50.299][00:55.314]Yet not the landscape to mine eyes[01:00.095]bears those bright hues that once it bore;[01:07.174]tho' Ev'ning, with her richest dye,[01:11.588]flames o'er the hills on Ettrick's shore.[01:16.917][01:21.097]With listless look along the plain,[01:25.486]I see Tweed's silver current glide,[01:32.565]And coldly mark the holy fane[01:37.162]Of Melrose rise in ruin'd pride.[01:42.361][01:46.828]The quiet lake, the balmy air,[01:51.556]The hill , the stream, the tower, the tree,[01:57.407]Are they still such as once they were,[02:01.639]Or is the dreary change in me?[02:06.837][02:11.331]Alas, the warp'd and broken board,[02:15.458]How can it bear the painter's dye?[02:22.406]The harp of strain'd and tuneless chord,[02:26.900]How to the minstrel's skill reply?[02:31.497][02:36.095]To aching eyes each landscape lowers,[02:40.875]To feverish pulse each gale blows chill:[02:48.451]And Araby's or Eden's bowers,[02:53.623]Were barren as this moorland hill.
