This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.



THE day is dawning. Whither shall we bend
Our steps, and whither send
The herald on before us; mighty clouds
That have been thick about the path of night,
Now parting all asunder, let the rays
Of mighty Pæan glance upon the hills,
And shew us here and there a marble tower,
With minarets that climb aloft, and gleam
Like silver crowns upon the hills of time.
Let us then climb these hill-tops, if with pain
And patient limbs we may attain thereto.. ......... We then at last have come unto the brow,
And gloried with the rays of the young sun,
May look upon the valley underneath.
It is a plain far stretching to the sea,
Which rocks and tumbles on the distant shore,
While close beneath the hill on which we stand
There is a city shining like a bride,

Whose birth-place was in old Pentelicus.