The Dance of the Muses

Begin we from the Muses, O my song!

Whose mansion is the mountain vast and holy

Of Helicon; where aye with delicate feet

Fast by Jove's altar and purpureal fount

They tread the measured round; their tender limbs

Lav'd in Permessian waters, or the stream

Of blest Olmius, or pure Hippocrene,

On the high top of Helicon they wont

To lead the mazy measure, breathing grace,

Enkindling love, and glance their quivering feet.

Thence break they forth tumultuous, and enwrapt

Wide with dim air, through silence of the night

Shape their ethereal way, and send abroad

A voice, in the stilly darkness beautiful.

Hesiod