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THE EAGLE OF SONG, by                    
First Line: Lo, now to a song thy heart incline
Last Line: And victory shakes her raven hair.
Alternate Author Name(s): Bakchylides


LO, now to a song thy heart incline;
The girdled Graces wove it so,
They, and a bard of the Isle Divine,
Whose fame to meet your own shall go.
By a friend shall Hiero's praise be told;
My heart is ready, my voice shall flow.
The lady of heaven
Her charge has given,
The Muse brow-bound with gold.

Angel of Zeus, on sweeping pinion
The brown bright eagle heavenward soars,
Serving the lord of wide dominion
Whose voice in thunder roars.
Across the sky through gulfs profound
Great strength conveys him undismayed,
While smaller fowl with piping sound
Shrink back to earth afraid.
No peak that the giant earth upheaves,
No rough sea-wave unwearying
Can stay him: the fathomless air he cleaves
And so will veer and lean his wing
To the west wind's breath as he sails in sight
On plume of delicate pencilling
That every eye
Must testify
The bird of sovran flight.
By thousand ways I too may sail
And praise of Hiero's house declare,
While Ares goes in coat of mail
And Victory shakes her raven hair.





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