C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

The Immortality of Genius

Translation of James Cranstoun

ORPHEUS, ’tis said, the Thracian lyre-strings sweeping,

Stayed the swift stream and soothed the savage brute;

Cithæron’s rocks, to Thebes spontaneous leaping,

Rose into walls before Amphion’s lute.

With dripping steeds did Galatea follow,

’Neath Ætna’s crags, lone Polyphemus’s song:

Is’t strange the loved of Bacchus and Apollo

Leads captive with his lay the maiden throng?

Though no Tænarian blocks uphold my dwelling,

Nor ivory panels shine ’tween gilded beams;

No orchards mine Phæacia’s woods excelling,

No chiseled grots where Marcian water streams,—

Yet Song is mine; my strain the heart engages;

Faint from the dance sinks the lithe Muse with me:

O happy maid whose name adorns my pages!

Each lay a lasting monument to thee!

The pyramids that cleave heaven’s jeweled portal;

Eléan Jove’s star-spangled dome; the tomb

Where rich Mausolus sleeps,—are not immortal,

Nor shall escape inevitable doom.

Devouring fire and rains will mar their splendor;

The weight of years will drag the marble down:

Genius alone a name can deathless render,

And round the forehead wreathe the unfading crown.