 | Tiresias |  |
“His lay confined to praises of his dame,
And what she loves: what fitter theme for song!
With what high argument, Tiresias,
Rend they the air, yon cloud of heavy rooks,
Now holding troubled session in the sky?”
And what she loves: what fitter theme for song!
With what high argument, Tiresias,
68
Now holding troubled session in the sky?”
| Tiresias | |