THE BROKEN LYRE AND THE KEY.
I once broke my lyre, but now tune it again,
The key I employ is my little quill-pen,
Which will not stay idle, though oft I have tried
To bid it lie quiet the inkstand beside.
The key I employ is my little quill-pen,
Which will not stay idle, though oft I have tried
To bid it lie quiet the inkstand beside.
But now my lyre's mended, what theme shall I choose?
Will grave or gay please best thy fancy, O muse!
Speak quickly, and tell me what song I shall sing,
But, remember my quill-key once graced a goose-wing.
Will grave or gay please best thy fancy, O muse!
Speak quickly, and tell me what song I shall sing,
But, remember my quill-key once graced a goose-wing.
But that matters little, great deeds are oft done;
Hard battles are fought and proud victories won
By means quite obscure, and my pen may have come
From the wings of the sage goose that once saved Rome.
Hard battles are fought and proud victories won
By means quite obscure, and my pen may have come
From the wings of the sage goose that once saved Rome.
