"And you, fair nymphs of Tagus, parent stream, If e'er your meadows were my pastoral theme, While you have listen'd, and by moonshine seen My footsteps wander o'er your banks of green, O come auspicious, and the song inspire With all the boldness of your hero's fire: Deep and majestic let the numbers flow, And, rapt to heaven, with ardent fury glow; Unlike the verse that speaks the lover's grief, When heaving sighs afford their soft relief, And humble reeds bewail the shepherd's pain: But like the warlike trumpet be the strain To rouse the hero's ire; and far around, With equal rage, your warriors' deeds resound."