And how, from, steep Colonus' rocky height,
On lightsome pinions borne, the Attic bee
Sail'd through the air, and wing'd her honied flight,
And sang of love and wine melodiously
In choric numbers: for ethereal Jove
Bestow'd on Sophocles Archippe's charms,
Albeit in eve of life,—and gave to love
And fold the yielding fair one in his arms.
IX.
Nay, I aver, in very sooth, that he,