The serpents in Megara's hair,
Kiss, as they wreathe enamour'd there;
All harmless rests the madding thong;—
From the torn breast the Vulture mute
Flies, scared before the charmèd lute—
Lull'd into sighing from their roar
The dark waves woo the listening shore—
Listening the Thracian's silver song!—
Love was the Thracian's silver song!
Blessed through love are the Gods above—