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FROM ANACREON.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

FAIN would I sing in Epic lays,

Fain would I echo Cadmus' praise.

My lyre, alas, upon its strings

Of naught but love persistent rings!

My lyre and all its strings I changed,

O'er every chord my fingers ranged,

As I essayed Alcides' toil;

But answered back in wild turmoil

My lyre in strains of love.

Farewell, my heroes, - farewell, kings;

Of love alone my lyre still sings.

U. U.

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