The lyre or pipe, and whiled the darksome hours.
Which would I had learned, to touch the stops and strings,
Nor only harked thereto: for nought he sang,
Whether of gods or men, of peace or war,
Had any theme of sweetness to compare
With my new world, here, where I am king, and rule
The sweetest thing in nature. Had I skill
To give translation to my joy, I think
I could make music that should charm the world.
O Deidamia, thou Queen of my heart,