To Colophon,—and on the sacred page
Enter'd his tale, and ceased, his mission done.
VII.
And well thou know'st, how famed Alcæus smote
Of his high harp the love-enliven'd strings,
And raised to Sappho's praise th' enamour'd note,
Midst noise of mirth and jocund revellings:
Ay, he did love that nightingale of song
With all a lover's fervour,—and, as he
Deftly attuned the lyre, to madness stung