Daughter of memory, immortal muse,
Calliope; what poet wilt thou choose,
Of Anna’s name to sing?
To whom wilt thou thy fire impart,
Thy lyre, thy voice, and tuneful art;
Whom raise sublime on thy aethereal wing,
And consecrate with dews of thy Castalian spring?
The Antistrophe.
Without thy aid, the most aspiring mind
Must flag beneath, to narrow flights confin’d,