Anacreon's Ode, call'd, The Lute

I long to sing the Seidge of Troy;

or Thebe's which Cadmus rear'd so high;

but though with hand & voice I strove,

my Lute will sound nothing but Love.

I chang'd the strings,

but 'twould not do't;

at last I took an other Lute;

& then I tri'd to sing the praise

of All-performing Hercules.

But when I sung Alcide's name,

my Lute resounds Love, Love again.

The farewell all ye Græcian Peers,

and all true Trojan Cavalleers:

Nor Godds nor men my Lute can move;

'Tis dumb to all but Love, Love, Love.