Then should I hold my new-found seat secure,
Without a thought of Saturn, or that Hour
Which sets a term e'en to Olympian pow'r.
But what if like a boomerang, it fly
Back to my hand, or, worse, into mine eye?
Ah, Ganymede, Jupiter Tonans seems
A splendid part, in young ambition's dreams,
But, Ganymede, who would aspire, I wonder,
To be a Jove who's half afraid to thunder?
With doubts about the handling of my bolt,