Quotes About Lyre

Adieu the clang of war's alarms! To other deeds my soul is strung, And sweeter notes shall now be sung; My harp shall all its powers reveal, To tell the tale my heart must feel; Love, Love alone, my lyre shall claim, In songs of bliss and sighs of flame.

Then Nature shaped a poet's heart -- a lyre From out whose chords the lightest breeze that blows Drew trembling music, wakening sweet desire.

She is at rest. Peace, peace, she cannot hear, Lyre or sonnet, All my life's buried here, Heap earth upon it.

When wombats do inspire/I strike my disused lyre

I couldn't resist painting Orpheus and Charon on the River Styx. There was something strangely intriguing about seeing Orpheus playing his lyre as he is being shuttled across the river.

Grant me, sound of body and of mind, to pass an old age lacking neither honor nor the lyre.

All the world is made of music. We are all strings on a lyre. We resonate. We sing together.

That is my mother's lyre,' I almost said. The words were in my mouth, and behind them others crowded close. 'That is my lyre.

Achilles nodded and bent over the lyre. I did not have time to wonder about his intervention. His fingers touched the strings, and all my thoughts were displaced. The sound was pure and sweet as water, bright as lemons. It was like no music I had ever heard before. It had warmth as a fire does, a texture and weight like polished ivory. It buoyed and soothed at once. A few hairs slipped forward to hang over his eyes as he played. They were fine as lure strings themselves, and shone.

Aquiles pulsó otra vez las cuerdas y de ellas brotó otra vez la música. En esta ocasión también cantó, pergeñando un acompañamiento con su clara y rica voz de tiple. Echó la cabeza ligeramente hacia atrás, dejando expuesta la fina piel del cuello, suave como la de un cervato. Una leve sonrisa le aupaba la comisura izquierda de la boca. Me incliné hacia delante casi sin pretenderlo.

Later Achilles would play the lyre, as Chiron and I listened. My mother's lyre. He had brought it with him.

Do you know that old song about Orpheus, how he played his lyre on the mountainside, and found a lion had crouched at his feet to listen? I'm no Orpheus, I know; but sometimes I see the lion's eyes. Where did it go, after the music, what became of it? The story doesn't say.

Who set Rome on fire? The man we must admire. For killing his wife, and taking the life of mother and brother and so many others, while plucking his damnable lyre.

singing to the tambourine and lyre and making merry at the sound of the flute.

So I will praise You with the harp for Your faithfulness, O my God; I will sing praise to You with the lyre, O Holy One of Israel.

Lift up a song, strike the tambourine, play the sweet-sounding harp and lyre.

with the ten-stringed harp and the melody of the lyre.

Sing praises to the LORD with the lyre, in melodious song with the harp.