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.