Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/297

 Give him the Nectar! Pour out for the Poet! Hebe! pour free! Quicken his eyes with celestial dew, That Styx the destested no more he may view, And like one of us Gods may conceit him to be! Thanks, Hebe! 1 quaff it! Io Pæan, I cry! The Wine of the Immortals Forbids me to die!