For love of thee, 'round Ajax came the gloom
Of madness and of death; for thee, of light
Th' Atarnean's eyeballs widow'd sunk in night,
Him, therefore, shall the muse, by poet's power,
Though mortal make immortal. Glory's hour
Flits not from such: who hand and heart have given
To crown, with honours due, the child of heaven. —G. Burges.
Ariphron. (Book xv. § 63, p. 1122.)
Health! supreme of heavenly powers,