Allures you still. Come, tell me truth,And trust my honour—That the name?That wild Charybdis yours? Poor youth!O, you deserved a better flame!What wizard, what Thessalian spell,What god can save you, hamper'd thus?To cope with this Chimaera fellWould task another Pegasus.
The sea, the earth, the innumerable sand,Archytas, thou couldst measure; now, alas!A little dust on Matine shore has spann'dThat soaring spirit; vain it was to passThe gates of heaven, and send thy soul in questO'er air's wide realms; for thou hadst yet to die.Ay, dead is Pelops' father, heaven's own guest,And old Tithonus, rapt from earth to sky,