VI.

Did e’en the Ionian bard, Mæonides, Blind minstrel wandering out of Asia’s night, The Iliad of Troy’s loves and rivalries, In strains forever tuneful to recite, His raptured listeners the more delight? Or dropt learned Plato ’neath his olive trees, More star-bright wisdom in the world’s full sight, Well garnered in familiar colloquies, Than did our harvester in fields of light? Nor spoke more charmingly young Charmides, Than our glad rhapsodist in his far flight Across the continents, both new and old; His tale to studious thousands thus he told In summer’s solstice and midwinter’s cold.