Sing to Love—for, oh, 'twas he

  Who won the glorious day;

Strew the wreaths of victory

  Along the conqueror's way.

Yoke the Muses to his car,

  Let them sing each trophy won;

While his mother's joyous star

  Shall light the triumph on.

Hail to Love, to mighty Love,

  Let spirits sing around;

While the hill, the dale, and grove,

  With "mighty Love" resound;

Or, should a sigh of sorrow steal

  Amid the sounds thus echoed o'er,

'Twill but teach the god to feel

  His victories the more.

See his wings, like amethyst

  Of sunny Ind their hue;

Bright as when, by Psyche kist,

  They trembled thro' and thro'.

Flowers spring beneath his feet;

  Angel forms beside him run;

While unnumbered lips repeat

  "Love's victory is won!"

   Hail to Love, to mighty Love,

   etc,