We want their strength, agreed; but we atone
For that, and more, by sweetness all our own.”—Gifford.
I.
Balmy Zephyrs, lightly flitting,
Shade me with your azure wing;
On Parnassus’ summit sitting,
Aid me, Clio, while I sing.
II.
Softly slept the dome of Drury,
O’er the empyreal crest,