Classic Poem

Now we are called upon. O lyre,
If ever we in secret here
Have sung one strain that men admire
And may outlive the passing year,
I pray thee tune the throbbing wire
From which my dearest songs have flowed,
And let me build for my desire
A Latin ode.

A Lesbian poet showed us first
Thy passion and thy fluent power;
And in the battle's lust and thirst,
Or quiet of the calmer hour,
He swept the silent strings; he versed
The lovely Venus in her pride;
Or showed us Cupid being nursed
Close at her side.

He chanted Bacchus wondrously;
And, when the Muses' praise was sung,
Extolled the black-eyed Lycus, he
Who was so delicate and young …
O thou who art and e'er wilt be
The charm and the delight of all,
Come and be gracious unto me—
Answer the call.