TO LOUIS HONORE FRÉCHETTE.

Laurels for song! And nobler bays,

In old Olympian golden days

Of clamor thro’ the clear-eyed morn,

No bowed triumphant head hath borne,

Victorious in all Hellas’ gaze!

They watched his glowing axles graze

The goal, and rent the heavens with praise;—

Yet the supremer heads have worn

Laurels for song.

So thee, from no palaestra-plays

A conqueror, to the gods we raise,

Whose brows of all our singers born

The sacred fillets chief adorn,—

Who first of all our choir displays

Laurels for song.