Not the songs to Pindus brought,
By the unholy thirst for glory;
Not the songs by riches bought—
The perfidiousness of story:
No! but that life-sparkling fountain,
Springing forth from transport's soul,
Up to joy's delirium mounting,
Gladdening nature's glowing whole,
Winging love's cloud-piercing arrow
Thro' time's boundaries, dark and narrow,
Wending tow'rds the heavens along,
This—this only be my song.