Not to festive dance or song
Music, all thy charms belong!
Rather let thy presence teach
Harmony of thought and speech;
While in lines of silver sound
Fancy’s polish’d gems abound.
Bid thy attic Ida speak
Then thy softest sceptre seek!
Teach the full and frequent pause,
Give the melting cadence laws
When her envied lips dispense
Stores of truth and eloquence.
Oft in measures smoothly slow
Bid her tuneful accents flow;
Or in tones unfix’d and free
Lend the light verse melody:
Then let bolder numbers roll
Lofty as the parent-soul.
’Midst the sister-muses’ train
Ever keep thy welcome reign!
When their ample gifts combine
Come, and softly mingle thine;
Ida’s lip is Wisdom’s care
Music! claim thy empire there!
M.H.F.