Greek (transliteratied): Thel_o legein Atpeidas, k.t.l.

Ode 1

To his Lyre

I wish to tune my quivering lyre a ,

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 b ,

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 strain

To Jove's great son I raise again;

Alcides and his glorious deeds,

Beneath whose arm the Hydra bleeds;

All, all in vain; my wayward lyre

Wakes silver notes of soft Desire.

Adieu, ye Chiefs renown'd in arms!

Adieu the clang of War's alarms c !

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.