Classic Poem

Oh , urging on the tireless speed
Of Thunder's elemental steed,
Lord of the world, Almighty Jove!
Since these thine hours have me forth
The witness of thy champions' worth,
And prophet of thine olive grove; —
And since the good thy poet hear,
And hold his tuneful message dear; —
Saturnian Lord of Etna hill! —
Whose storm-cemented rocks encage
The hundred-headed rebel's rage;
Accept with favourable will
The Muses' gift of harmony;
The dance, the song, whose numbers high
Forbid the hero's dame to die,
A crown of life abiding still! —

Hark! round the car of victory,
Where noble Psaumis sits on high,
The cheering notes resound;
Who vows to swell with added fame
His Camarina's ancient name;
With Pisan olive crowned —
And thou, oh father, hear his prayer!
For much I praise the knightly care
That trains the warrior steed: —
Nor less the hopitable hall
Whose open doors the stranger call; —
Yet, praise I Psaumis most of all
For wise and peaceful rede,
And patriot love of liberty. —
— What? — do we wave the glozing lie? —
Then whose list my truth to try,
The proof be in the deed! —

To Lemnos's laughing dames of yore,
Such was the proof Ernicus bore,
When, matchless in his speed,
All brazen-armed the racer hoar,
Victorious on the applauding shore,
Sprang to the proffered meed; —
Bowed to the queen his wreathed head; —
" Thou seest my limbs are light, " he said;
" And, lady, may'st thou know,
That every joint is firmly strung,
And hand and heart alike are young;
Though treacherous time my locks among
Have strewed a summer snow! "