MOTHER of Hermes! and still youthful Maia!           May I sing to thee As thou wast hymned on the shores of Baiae?           Or may I woo thee In earlier Sicilian? or thy smiles Seek as they once were sought, in Grecian isles, By bards who died content on pleasant sward,   Leaving great verse unto a little clan? O give me their old vigour! and unheard   Save of the quiet primrose, and the span           Of heaven, and few ears, Rounded by thee, my song should die away           Content as theirs, Rich in the simple worship of a day.