I: Hecatombs

"Give hecatombs and sacrifices dear

to muses, all, who preach to you dismay.

Bend all thy thought, and turn to them thy ear,

and sing to them your each and every lay."

I once praised only Gods who gave me joy,

gave thought for naught but hope and peaceful song.

Betimes my hopes were dashed as like a toy,

and so I turned and joined a hopeless throng.

But that has never served me since I did.

Save only if to make my mind so sharp.

For many chances have been cruelly hid,

since e'er I stopped my ears to Hope's sweet harp.

"Give hecatombs to Hope and Joy alone!

Praise not but that which makes the earth your home."