MOTHER of Hermes! and still youthful Maia! 
   May I sing to thee 
As thou wast hymned on the shores of Baiae? 
   Or may I woo thee 
In earlier Sicilian? or thy smiles 
Seek as they once were sought, in Grecian isles, 
By bards who died content on pleasant sward, 
   Leaving great verse unto a little clan? 
O give me their old vigour! and unheard 
   Save of the quiet primrose, and the span 
   Of heaven, and few ears, 
Rounded by thee, my song should die away 
   Content as theirs, 
Rich in the simple worship of a day.