Tu che ne vai in Pindo
Ivi pende mia cetra ad un cipresso,
Salutala in mio nome, e dille poi
Ch'io son dagl' anni e da fortuna oppresso."
--Life of Tasso
In such a cage, sweet bird, wast thou confined?
Alas! their iron hearts no feeling knew;
Yet, while thy spirit in a prison pined,
And while thy grief almost to madness grew,
Thy minstrelsy was wafted on each wind,
On every breeze thy fame triumphant flew,
And spake, through every land, of thy immortal mind.
Upon a cypress bough thy harp was hung,
Silent, neglected, mournful, and unstrung!
Such fate befitted not a harp of thine;
Yet, while th' oppressor breathed, such was its doom;
But now by bards who worship at thy shrine
'Tis crowned with flowers of everlasting bloom.