The songs of Teos are not mute,And Sappho's love is breathing still:She told her secret to the lute,And yet its chords with passion thrill.Not Sparta's queen alone was firedBy broider'd robe and braided tress,And all the splendours that attiredHer lover's guilty loveliness:Not only Teucer to the fieldHis arrows brought, nor Ilion Beneath a single conqueror reel'd:Not Crete's majestic lord alone,Or Sthenelus, earn'd the Muses' crown:Not Hector first for child and wife,Or brave Deiphobus, laid downThe burden of a manly life.