On his Lute .

T HE line of Atreus will I sing;
To Cadmus will I tune the string:
But, as from string to string I move,
My lute will only sound of Love .

The cords I change through every screw,
And model the whole lute anew.
Once more, in song, my voice I raise,
And, Hercules , thy toils I praise:
My lute does still my voice deny,
And in the tones of love reply.

Ye heroes then, at once farewel:
Loves only echo from my shell.