Classic Poem

O thou, which, eloquent and chaste,
From Atlas sprung, rough man to rule,
And form our sons to toil and taste
As in th'Athenian school.
Thee will I sing, great Jove's courier,
Inventor of the lyre confest;
Expert to steal and disappear,
And turn it to a jest.
Thee when a boy, with threats injoin'd
To bring the steers you had withdrawn,
Apollo laugh'd aloud to find
His quiver also gone.
King Priam likewise, thee his guide,
Deserting Troy with all his wealth,
Atreus his haughty sons defy'd,
And hostile camp by stealth.
The pious souls to realms of love,
Your golden rod compels to go,
O grateful to the Gods above
And to the pow'rs below.