A song of love, sweet Philomel, Soon carolled through the grove; The streamlet, as it murmuring fell, Discoursed of naught but love, Pygmalion! Happy one! Behold! Life's glow pervades thy marble cold! Oh, LOVE, thou conqueror all-divine, Embrace each happy child of thine! . . . . . By love are blest the gods on high,-- Frail man becomes a deity When love to him is given; 'Tis love that makes the heavens shine With hues more radiant, more divine, And turns dull earth to heaven! . . . . . The gods their days forever spend In banquets bright that have no end, In one voluptuous morning-dream, And quaff the nectar's golden stream. Enthroned in awful majesty Kronion wields the bolt on high: In abject fear Olympus rocks When wrathfully he shakes his locks. To other gods he leaves his throne, And fills, disguised as earth's frail son, The grove with mournful numbers; The thunders rest beneath his feet, And lulled by Leda's kisses sweet, The Giant-Slayer slumbers. Through the boundless realms of light Phoebus' golden reins, so bright, Guide his horses white as snow, While his darts lay nations low. But when love and harmony Fill his breast, how willingly Ceases Phoebus then to heed Rattling dart and snow-white steed! See! Before Kronion's spouse Every great immortal bows; Proudly soar the peacock pair As her chariot throne they bear, While she decks with crown of might Her ambrosial tresses bright, Beauteous princess, ah! with fear Quakes before thy splendor, love, Seeking, as he ventures near, With his power thy breast to move! Soon from her immortal throne Heaven's great queen must fain descend, And in prayer for beauty's zone, To the heart-enchainer bend! . . . . . By love are blest the gods on high, Frail man becomes a deity When love to him is given; 'Tis love that makes the heavens shine With hues more radiant, more divine, And turns dull earth to heaven! . . . . . 'Tis love illumes the realms of night, For Orcus dark obeys his might, And bows before his magic spell All-kindly looks the king of hell At Ceres' daughter's smile so bright,-- Yes--love illumes the realms of night! In hell were heard, with heavenly sound, Holding in chains its warder bound, Thy lays, O Thracian one! A gentler doom dread Minos passed, While down his cheeks the tears coursed fast And e'en around Megaera's face The serpents twined in fond embrace, The lashes' work seemed done. Driven by Orpheus' lyre away, The vulture left his giant-prey [8]; With gentler motion rolled along Dark Lethe and Cocytus' river, Enraptured Thracian, by thy song,-- And love its burden was forever!