To raise the mast, the missile dart to wing,
And send swift arrows from the bounding string,
Were arts the gods made grateful to my mind;
Those gods, who turn (to ends design'd)
The various thoughts and talents of mankind.
And send swift arrows from the bounding string,
Were arts the gods made grateful to my mind;
Those gods, who turn (to ends design'd)
The various thoughts and talents of mankind.
Odyssey - Pope
