seen. By contest brightened, hence the radiant The sea at last from Colchian mountains youth Poured every beam; by generous pride Kind-hearted transport round their capinflamed, 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 Urged a retreat, whose glory not the prime was theirs, All the soft modes of elegance and ease; Invincible in arts, in the bright field And deep rapacious floods, dire-banked The Persian chains: while through the with death; city, full And mountains, in whose jaws destruction Of mirthful quarrel and of witty war, storms; And circling myriads still of barbarous O'er all shone out the great Athenian sage, foes. And father of philosophy; the sun, From whose white blaze emerged each various sect Greece in their view, and glory yet untouched, 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, Dealt priceless treasure: goodness his delight, its way Triumphant, by the sage-exalted chief Fired and sustained. Oh light and force of mind, Almost almighty in severe extremes! Wisdom his wealth, and glory his reward. Deep through the human heart, with playful art, His simple question stole; as into truth, And serious deeds, he smiled the laughing race; Taught moral happy life, whate'er can bless, Or grace mankind; and what he taught he was. Compounded high, though plain, his doctrine broke In different schools. The bold poetic 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 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. From priestly darkness sprung th' enlightening arts Of fire, and sword, and rage, and horrid names. O Greece! thou sapient nurse of finer 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 Through all the winding harmony of sound: In it the power of Eloquence, at large, Breathed the persuasive or pathetic soul; Stilled by degrees the democratic storm, Or bade it threatening rise, and tyrants shook, Flushed at the head of their victorious troops. In it the Muse, her fury never quenched, By mean unyielding phrase, or jarring sound, 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 inpassioned man, Concealing art with art, the poet sunk, This potent school of manners, but when left To loose neglect, a land corrupting plague, Was not unworthy deemed of public care, And boundless cost, by thee; whose every son, Even last mechanic; the true taste possessed 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! Sculp ture 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. The soul of beauty! called the queen of love, Fresh from the billows, blushing orient charms. Even such inchantment then thy Pencil poured, torch |