The food divine, that's eat on high,

By all the inmates of the sky;

Also the Liquor, drank above,

Which Hebe hands, to mighty Jove;

He, who for fair Calypso's smile,

Forgot his wife, and native isle:

Now Thetis' son, who chose the strife,

Of warlike fame, instead of life:

That island, where we're always told,

The brass Colossus stood of old: