Listless Cytherean princess, sing
No more. Begone out of my view!
But you, great scourge of tsar and king,
Proud Muse of Freedom, where are you?
Come rip my laurels off. Bring stones
And ... [+]

I'm sitting by bars in the damp blackened cell --
The juvenile eagle, who's bred by the jail,
My mournful friend, with his wings stretching wide,
Is picking at bloody food right by my side ... [+]

If beasts within a silent forest moan,
If trumpets sound, if thunder rolls and cracks,
Or young girls sing almost inaudibly-
For each initial tone
The atmosphere resounds quite suddenly ... [+]