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By contest brightened, hence the radiant The sea at last from Colchian mountains youth

seen.

Poured every beam; by generous pride Kind-hearted transport round their cap

inflamed,

Felt every ardour burn: their great reward The verdant wreath, which sounding Pisa gave.

Hence flourished Greece: and hence a race of men,

As gods by conscious future times adored, In whom each virtue wore a smiling air, Each science shed o'er life a friendly light, Each art was nature. Spartan valour hence,

tains threw

The soldiers fond embrace: o'erflowed their eyes

With tender floods, and loosed the general voice

To cries resounding loud-The sea! The sea!

In Attic bounds hence heroes, sages, wits,

Shone thick as stars, the milky way of Greece !

At the famed pass, firm as an isthmus And though gay wit, and pleasing grace

stood;

And the whole eastern ocean, waving far
As eye could dart its vision, nobly checked.
While in extended battle, at the field
Of Marathon, my keen Athenians drove
Before their ardent band an host of slaves.
Hence through the continent ten thou-
sand Greeks

Urged a retreat, whose glory not the prime
Of victories can reach. Deserts, in vain,
Opposed their course; and hostile lands,
unknown;

was theirs,

All the soft modes of elegance and ease;
Yet was not courage less, the patient touch
Of toiling art, and disquisition deep.
My spirit pours a vigour through the soul,
The unfettered thought with energy in-
spires,

Invincible in arts, in the bright field
Of nobler science, as in that of arms,
Athenians thus not less intrepid burst
The bonds of tyrant darkness, than they
spurned

And deep rapacious floods, dire-banked The Persian chains: while through the

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And mountains, in whose jaws destruction Of mirthful quarrel and of witty war,

grinned;

Hunger, and toil; Armenian snows, and

storms;

Incessant struggled taste refining taste, And friendly free discussion, calling forth From the fair jewel Truth its latent ray.

And circling myriads still of barbarous O'er all shone out the great Athenian sage, foes.

Greece in their view, and glory yet untouched,

And father of philosophy; the sun, From whose white blaze emerged each various sect

Their steady column pierced the scattering Took various tints, but with diminished herds,

beam.

Which a whole empire poured; and held Tutor of Athens: he, in every street,

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His simple question stole; as into truth,
And serious deeds, he smiled the laughing

race;

Through all the winding harmony of sound:

In it the power of Eloquence, at large, Taught moral happy life, whate'er can Breathed the persuasive or pathetic soul; bless, Stilled by degrees the democratic storm, Or grace mankind; and what he taught he Or bade it threatening rise, and tyrants shook,

was.

Compounded high, though plain, his doc- Flushed at the head of their victorious

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In different schools. The bold poetic In it the Muse, her fury never quenched, By mean unyielding phrase, or jarring sound,

phrase

Of figured Plato, Xenophon's pure strain,
Like the clear brook that steals along the
vale ;

Dissecting truth, the Stagyrite's keen eye;
The exalted Stoic pride; the Cynic sneer;
The slow-consenting Academic doubt;
And, joining bliss to virtue, the glad ease
Of Epicurus, seldom understood.
They, ever candid, reason still opposed
To reason; and, since virtue was their aim,
Each by sure practice tried to prove his
way

The best. Then stood untouched the solid
base

Of liberty, the liberty of mind:

For systems yet, and soul-enslaving creeds, Slept with the monsters of succeeding times.

Her unconfined divinity displayed;
And, still harmonious, formed it to her
will:

Or soft depressed it to the shepherd's

moan,

Or raised it swelling to the tongue of Gods. Heroic song was thine; the Fountainbard,

Whence each poetic stream derives its

course.

Thine the dread moral scene, thy chief
delight!

Where idle Fancy durst not mix her voice,
When Reason spoke august; the fervent

heart,

Or plained, or stormed; and in the impassioned man,

From priestly darkness sprung th' enlight- Concealing art with art, the poet sunk.

ening arts

Of fire, and sword, and rage, and horrid

names.

This potent school of manners, but when left

Toloose neglect, a land corrupting plague,

O Greece! thou sapient nurse of finer Was not unworthy deemed of public care, arts!

Which to bright Science blooming Fancy bore,

Be this thy praise, that thou, and thou
alone,

In these hast led the way, in these excelled,
Crown'd with the laurel of assenting Time.
In thy full language, speaking mighty
things;

Like a clear torrent close, or else diffused
A broad majestic stream, and rolling on

And boundless cost, by thee; whose every

son,

Even last mechanic; the true taste pos-
sessed

Of what had flavour to the nourished soul,
The sweet enforcer of the poet's strain,
Thine was the meaning music of the
heart.

Not the vain trill, that, void of passion,

runs

In giddy mazes, tickling idle ears ;

But that deep-searching voice, and artful That cruel-thoughted War the impatient hand,

To which respondent shakes the varied soul.

Thy fair ideas, thy delightful forms, By love imagined, by the graces touched, The boast of well-pleased Nature! Sculpture seized,

And bade them ever smile in Parian stone. Selecting Beauty's choice, and that again Exalting, blending in a perfect whole, Thy workmen left even Nature's self behind.

From those far different, whose prolific hand

Peoples a nation; they for years on years, By the cool touches of judicious toil, Their rapid genius curbing, poured it all Through the live features of one breathing

stone.

There, beaming full, it shone; expressing Gods:

Jove's awful brow, Apollo's air divine, The fierce atrocious frown of sinewed Mars,

Or the sly graces of the Cyprian queen, Minutely perfect all! Each dimple sunk, And every muscle swelled, as nature taught. In tresses, braided gay, the marble waved; Flowed in loose robes, or thin transparent veils ;

Sprung into motion; softened into flesh; Was fired to passion, or refined to soul.

Nor less thy Pencil with creative touch, Shed mimic life, when all thy brightest dames,

Assembled, Zeuxis in his Helen mixed.
And when Apelles, who peculiar knew
To give a grace that more than mortal
smiled,

The soul of beauty! called the queen of love,

Fresh from the billows, blushing orient charms.

Even such inchantment then thy Pencil

poured,

torch

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