Σκιδναμένας ἐν στήθεσιν ὄργας
μαψυλάκαν γλῶσσαν πεφύλαχθαι·
WHEN through thy breast wild wrath doth spread
And work thy inmost being harm,
Leave thou the fiery word unsaid,
Guard thee ; be calm.
Closed be thy lips : where Love perchance
Lies at the door to be thy guest,
Shall there be noise and dissonance ?
Quiet were best.
Apollo, when they do thee wrong,
Speechless thou tak'st the golden dart:
I will refrain my barking tongue,
And strike the heart.