[From _The Western Review_ (Lexington, March, 1821)]
I would Atrides' glory tell,
I would to Cadmus strike my shell;
I try the vocal cords--in vain!
Love, only love, breathes through the strain.
I strip away the truant wire,
And string with deeper chords the lyre,
Then great Alcides' toils would sing:
Soft love still sighs through every string.
Hence, themes of Glory, hence! adieu!
For what have I to do with you?
My heart and lyre in union make
Resounding Love and only Love.