From the Latin by Dr. James Cranstoun
ORPHEUS, ’t is 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...