Image Image source Hathi Trust: Image link Text Author Agnes Mary Frances Robinson Year 1886 Text FORGOTTEN seers of lost repute That haunt the banks of Acheron, Where have you dropped the broken lute You played in Troy or Calydon ? O ye that sang in Babylon By foreign willows cold and grey, Fall'n are the harps ye hanged thereon, Dead are the tunes of yesterday ! De Coucy, is your music mute, The quaint old plain-chant woe-begone That served so many a lover's suit ? Oh, dead as Adam or Guédron ! Then, sweet De Caurroy, try upon Your virginals a virelay ; Or play, Orlando, one pavonne— Dead are the tunes of yesterday ! But ye whose praises none refute, Who have the immortal laurel won ;— Trill me your quavering close acute, Astorga, dear unhappy Don ! One air, Galuppi! Sarti, one So many fingers used to play !— Dead as the ladies of Villon, Dead are the tunes of yesterday ! Envoy. Vernon, in vain you stoop to con The slender, faded notes to-day— The Soul that dwelt in them is gone : Dead are the tunes of yesterday ! Title of volume of first printing An Italian Garden: A Book of Songs Publisher T. Fisher Unwin Page numbers in original volume 67-68 Lesbian