The man whom once, Melpomene, <br />Thou look'st on with benignant sight, <br />Shall never at the Isthmus be <br />A boxer eminent in fight, <br />Nor fares he foremost in the flight <br />Of Grecian cars to victory, <br />Nor goes with Delian laurels dight, <br />The man thou lov'st, Melpomene! <br /> <br />Not him the Capitol shall see, <br />As who hath crush'd the threats and might <br />Of monarchs, march triumphantly; <br />But Fame shall crown him, in his right <br />Of all the Roman lyre that smite <br />The first; so woods of Tivoli <br />Proclaim him, so her waters bright, <br />The man thou lov'st, Melpomene! <br /> <br />The sons of queenly Rome count ME, <br />Me too, with them whose chants delight, - <br />The poets' kindly company; <br />Now broken is the tooth of spite, <br />But thou, that temperest aright <br />The golden lyre, all, all to thee <br />He owes--life, fame, and fortune's height - <br />The man thou lov'st, Melpomene! <br /> <br />ENVOY. <br /> <br />Queen, that to mute lips could'st unite <br />The wild swan's dying melody! <br />Thy gifts, ah! how shall he requite - <br />The man thou lov'st, Melpomene?<br /><br />Andrew Lang<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballade-of-the-muse/
