If ever in the sylvan shade br A song immortal we have made, br Come now, O lute, I prithee 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.