Warble his native wood-notes wild,

[And ever, against eating cares], 135

[Lap me in soft Lydian airs],

Married to immortal verse,

Such as [the meeting soul] may pierce,

In notes with many a winding [bout]

Of linked sweetness long drawn out 140

With wanton heed and giddy cunning,

The melting voice through mazes running,

Untwisting all the chains that tie