When Ammon’s mighty son arose
Scattering wide fair freedom’s foes
He spared the house where Pindar sung
Where his lyre symphonious rung.
Gods and god-like men his theme
And in the inspired poetic dream
Attuned to the harmonious
Sounding silver string,
Quenched the lightenings of the eagle’s eye
And caused his flagging wing,
Lulled in soft slumbers
By the sceptred hand of Jove
In the full synod
Of the gods above.
But when commissioned with the high behest
Instant he quits the balmy rest.
With out-stretched neck
He wings his rapid flight
Darts thro’ the gathering storm
And spurns the blackening night.
Returning to the skies
He mingles in the sun’s far blazing beams
And sails delighted
Midst the golden streams
Rejoicing in the aethereal courser’s race
In the celestial light shoot on with equal pace.
Such be thy flight in lofty verse
That heroes may thy song rehearse,
So be thy eagle vision fixed above
That thy repose be by the throne of Jove.