2.
I am the god of music bright,
Revered in every nation;
In Greece, on Mount Parnassus’ height,
My temple had its station.
In Greece I oft have sat and play’d
On famed Parnassus’ mountain,
Beneath the cypress’ pleasant shade,
Beside Castalia’s fountain.
My daughters sat around their Pa,
And raised a vocal chorus;
They sweetly sang: la-la, la-la!
While laughter floated o’er us.
The bugle rang: tra-ra, tra-ra!
From out the forest loudly;
There hunted Artemisia,
My little sister, proudly.
And whensoe’er I took some sips,—
I can’t describe it neatly,—
From out Castalia’s fount, my lips
Burst into music sweetly.
I sang—my lyre, as it replied,
O’er its own chords seem’d sweeping;
I felt as if I Daphne spied
Behind the laurels peeping.
I sang—ambrosial incense stream’d,
And lightly o’er me hover’d;
And the whole world around me seem’d
By a bright halo cover’d.
A thousand years from Grecia’s land
Have I been sadly banish’d;
Yet hath my heart in Grecia’s land
Remain’d, though I have vanish’d.