Note 185 — Chapter XXI · THE ANTHOLOGY.
Reading edition
Wind, gentle evergreen, to form a shade, Around the tomb where Sophocles is laid; Sweet ivy, wind thy boughs, and intertwine With blushing roses and the clustering vine: Thus will thy lasting leaves, with beauties hung, Prove grateful emblems of the lays he sung; Whose soul, exalted like a god of wit, Among the muses and the graces writ.—Anon.