Whate’er my thought, if Phoebus sent thee forth,
I would bid thee have no fear. And howsoe’er,
My name will shield thee from all injury.
Chorus.
Friend! in our land of conquering steeds thou art come I 1
To this Heaven-fostered haunt. Earth’s fairest home,
Gleaming Colonos, where the nightingale
In cool green covert warbleth ever clear,
True to the clustering ivy and the dear
Divine, impenetrable shade,
From wildered boughs and myriad fruitage made,
Sunless at noon, stormless in every gale.
Wood-roving Bacchus there, with mazy round,
And his nymph nurses range the unoffended ground.
And nourished day by day with heavenly dew I 2
Bright flowers their never-failing bloom renew,
From eldest time Dêo and Cora’s crown
Full-flowered narcissus, and the golden beam
Of crocus, while Cephisus’ gentle stream
In runnels fed by sleepless springs
Over the land’s broad bosom daily brings
His pregnant waters, never dwindling down.
The quiring Muses love to seek the spot
And Aphroditè’s golden car forsakes it not.
Here too a plant, nobler than e’er was known II 1
On Asian soil, grander than yet hath grown
In Pelops’ mighty Dorian isle, unsown,
Free, self-create, the conquering foeman’s fear,
The kind oil-olive, silvery-green,
Chief nourisher of childish life, is seen
To burgeon best in this our mother-land.
No warrior, young, nor aged in command,
Shall ravage this, or scathe it with the spear;
For guardian Zeus’ unslumbering eye
Beholds it everlastingly,
And Athens’ grey-eyed Queen. dwelling for ever near.
