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And Phorcus, sea-born, and together strode To where he tower'd on his eminence. There those four shouted forth old Saturn's name; Hyperion from the peak loud answer'd, "Saturn!" Saturn sat near the Mother of the Gods, In whose face was no joy, though all the Gods Gave from their hollow throats the name of "Saturn!"

in alternate uproar and sad peace, Amazed were those Titans utterly. O leave them, Muse! O leave them to their woes! For thou art weak to sing such tumults dire: A solitary sorrow best befits Thy lips, and antheming a lonely grief. Leave them, O Muse! for thou anon wilt find Many a fallen old Divinity Wandering in vain about bewilder'd shores. Meantime touch piously the Delphic harp, And not a wind of Heaven but will breathe In aid soft warble from the Dorian flute; For lo! 'tis for the Father of all verse. Flush everything that hath a vermeil hue, Let the rose glow intense and warm the air, And let the clouds of even and of morn Float in voluptuous fleeces o'er the hills; Let the red wine within the goblet boil. Cold as a bubbling well; let faint-lipp'd shells, On sands or in great deeps, vermilion turn