There's not a string attuned to mirth

But has its chord in melancholy.

Thomas Hood (1798-1845): Ode to Melancholy.

A few can touch the magic string,

And noisy Fame is proud to win them;

Alas for those that never sing,

But die with all their music in them!

Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894): The Voiceless.

Three merry boys, and three merry boys,

And three merry boys are we,

As ever did sing in a hempen string

Under the gallows-tree.

John Fletcher (1576-1625): The Bloody Brother. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing

Such notes as, warbled to the string,

Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.

John Milton (1608-1674): Il Penseroso. Line 105.