And one that in his airy hand
Displayed a serpent-twisted wand,
And floated on the breeze,
Both capped and shod with wings; and one
That lay in sumptuous ease
On pillowed clouds, fair Semele’s son,
And quaffed the nectar’d bowl;
And one from whom the locks unshorn
Flowed like ripe fields of April corn,
And beaming brightness, like the morn,