Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/188

148 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,

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!

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.