110
PRIZE POEMS.
And the gray Theban raises to the skies
His hueless features, and his rayless eyes.
There blue-eyed Pallas guides the willing feet
Of her loved sages to her calm retreat,
And lights the radiance of her glitt'ring torch
In the rich garden and the quiet porch:
Lo! the throng'd arches, and the nodding trees,
Where Truth and Wisdom stray'd with Socrates,
Where round sweet Xenophon rapt myriads hung,
And liquid honey dropp'd from Plato's tongue!
Oh! thou wert glorious then! thy sway and sword
On earth and sea were dreaded and adored,
And Satraps knelt, and Sovereigns tribute paid,
And prostrate cities trembled and obeyed:
The grim Laconian when he saw thee sighed,
And frown'd the venom of his hate and pride;
And the pale Persian dismal vigils kept,
If Rumour whispered 'Athens!' where he slept;
And mighty Ocean, for thy royal sail,
Hush'd the loud wave, and still'd the stormy gale;
And to thy sons Olympian Jove had given
A brighter ether, and a purer heaven.
Those sons of thine were not a mingled host,
From various fathers born, from every coast,
And driven from shore to shore, from toil to toil.
To shun a despot, or to seek a spoil;
Oh, no! they drew their unpolluted race
Up from the earth which was their dwelling-place;
And the warm blood, whose blushing streams had run,
Ceaseless and stainless, down, from sire to son.
Went clear and brilliant through its hundred rills,
Pure as thy breeze, eternal as thy hills!
Alas! how soon that day of splendour past,
That bright, brief day, too beautiful to last!
Let other lips tell o'er the oft-told tale;—
How art succeeds, when spear and falchion fail,
His hueless features, and his rayless eyes.
There blue-eyed Pallas guides the willing feet
Of her loved sages to her calm retreat,
And lights the radiance of her glitt'ring torch
In the rich garden and the quiet porch:
Lo! the throng'd arches, and the nodding trees,
Where Truth and Wisdom stray'd with Socrates,
Where round sweet Xenophon rapt myriads hung,
And liquid honey dropp'd from Plato's tongue!
Oh! thou wert glorious then! thy sway and sword
On earth and sea were dreaded and adored,
And Satraps knelt, and Sovereigns tribute paid,
And prostrate cities trembled and obeyed:
The grim Laconian when he saw thee sighed,
And frown'd the venom of his hate and pride;
And the pale Persian dismal vigils kept,
If Rumour whispered 'Athens!' where he slept;
And mighty Ocean, for thy royal sail,
Hush'd the loud wave, and still'd the stormy gale;
And to thy sons Olympian Jove had given
A brighter ether, and a purer heaven.
Those sons of thine were not a mingled host,
From various fathers born, from every coast,
And driven from shore to shore, from toil to toil.
To shun a despot, or to seek a spoil;
Oh, no! they drew their unpolluted race
Up from the earth which was their dwelling-place;
And the warm blood, whose blushing streams had run,
Ceaseless and stainless, down, from sire to son.
Went clear and brilliant through its hundred rills,
Pure as thy breeze, eternal as thy hills!
Alas! how soon that day of splendour past,
That bright, brief day, too beautiful to last!
Let other lips tell o'er the oft-told tale;—
How art succeeds, when spear and falchion fail,
