The grecian MUSE, to earth who bore
  Her goblet filled with wine of gold,
Dispersed the frown that Ages wore
  Upon their foreheads grim and cold,
  What time the lyric thunders rolled.

O’er this new Eden of the West
  The mightier Muse enkindles now:
Her joy-lyre fashions in my breast,
  And wreathes the song-crown for my brow...