So far from this heroic strand,
Whose soil first bade your life unfold,
Still here your fragrance will expand;
Your soul that never quits the earth
Whose light smiled on you at your birth.
—Translated by Charles Derbyshire.
YOU ASK ME FOR VERSES
You bid me now to strike the lyre,
That mute and torn so long has lain:
And yet I cannot wake the strain, [[348]]