"Thou canst seek out and compass all that wit Can find or teach. Yet, since thou wilt, come, take The lyre—be mine the glory giving it— Strike the sweet chords, and sing aloud, and wake The joyous pleasure out of many a fit Of tranced sound—and with fleet fingers make? Thy liquid-voiced comrade speak with thee,— It can talk measured music eloquently.  "Then bear it boldly to the revel loud, Love-wakening dance, or feast of solemn state, A joy by night or day: for those endowed With art and wisdom who interrogate It teaches, babbling in delightful mood All things which make the spirit most elate. Soothing the mind with sweet familiar play, Chasing the heavy shadows of dismay.  "To those that are unskilled in its sweet tongue, Though they should question most impetuously Its hidden soul, it gossips something wrong— Some senseless and impertinent reply. But thou, who art as wise as thou art strong, Canst compass all that thou desirest. I Present thee with this music-flowing shell, Knowing thou canst interrogate it well...." 

Can find or teach. Yet, since thou wilt, come, take

The lyre—be mine the glory giving it—

Strike the sweet chords, and sing aloud, and wake

The joyous pleasure out of many a fit

Of tranced sound—and with fleet fingers make?

Thy liquid-voiced comrade speak with thee,—

It can talk measured music eloquently.

Love-wakening dance, or feast of solemn state,

A joy by night or day: for those endowed

With art and wisdom who interrogate

It teaches, babbling in delightful mood

All things which make the spirit most elate.

Soothing the mind with sweet familiar play,

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