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20 And whirl'd thee on his golden steeds above

To the high palace of immortal Jove;

Where Ganymede in days of yore

The same illustrious office bore.

But when the long inquiring train

Had sought their absent charge in vain

To his fond mother to restore,

The slanderous whisper circled round

That in the fervid wave profound,

Hewn by the sword, his limbs were cast,

And to the lords of heaven supplied a sweet repast!

But far the impious thought from me

To tax the bless'd with gluttony;

For well I know that pains await

The lips that slanderous tales relate.

If the great gods who on Olympus dwell

High favour e'er on man bestow'd

Above the undistinguish'd crowd,

To Tantalus the lot of honour fell.

But ah! too feeble to digest

The raptures of the heavenly feast,

His haughty soul incensed to ire

The might of his immortal sire;

Who o'er his head a massy rock

Suspended, that with direful shock