His body was as straight as Circe's wand; Jove might have sipped out nectar from his hand.
Before the starry threshold of Jove's court My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live inspher'd In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot, Which men call earth.
Books and the Man I sing, the first who brings The Smithfield Muses to the Ear of Kings. Say great Patricians! (since your selves inspire These wond'rous works; so Jove and Fate require) Say from what cause, in vain decry'd and curst, Still Dunce the second reigns like Dunce the first?
Webster's New World Dictionary of Quotations Copyright © 2010 by Chambers Harrap Publishers Ltd. All rights reserved. Published by Wiley, Hoboken, NJ. Used by arrangement with John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
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