Translation from Anacreon: Ode 1. To His Lyre
I wish to tune my quivering lyre,To deeds of fame, and notes of fire;To echo, from its rising swell,How heroes fought and nations fell,When Atreus' sons advanc'd to war,Or Tyrian Cadmus rov'd afar;But still, to martial strains unknown,My lyre recurs to Love alone.Fir'd with the hope of future fame,I seek some nobler Hero's name;The dying chords are strung anew,To war, to war, my harp is due:With glowing strings, the Epic strainTo Jove's great son I raise again;Alcides and his glorious deeds,Beneath whose arm the Hydra bleeds;All, all in vain; my wayward lyreWakes silver notes of soft Desire.Adieu, ye Chiefs renown'd in arms!Adieu the clang of War's alarms!To other deeds my soul is strung,And sweeter notes shall now be sung;My harp shall all its powers reveal,To tell the tale my heart must feel;Love, Love alone, my lyre shall claim,In songs of bliss and sighs of flame.
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