sung

Aujourd'hui, ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'e"  tre dit, on le chante. Today, what is not worth being said is sung.

—Beaumarchais, Pierre Augustin Caron de

The silver swan, who living had no note, When death approached, unlocked her silent throat; Leaning her breast against the reedy shore, Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more: 'Farewell, all joys; Oh death, come close mine eyes; More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.'

—Gibbons, Orlando

The way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses grey, Seemed to have known a better day; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried byan orphan boy, The last of all the Bards was he, Who sung of Border chivalry.

—Scott, Sir Walter