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: