If ever in the sylvan shade br A song immortal we have made, br Come now, O lute, I pri' thee come-- br Inspire a song of Latium. br br A Lesbian first thy glories proved-- br In arms and in repose he loved br To sweep thy dulcet strings and raise br His voice in Love's and Liber's praise; br The Muses, too, and him who clings br To Mother Venus' apron-strings, br And Lycus beautiful, he sung br In those old days when you were young.