The God of gladness sheds his parting smile;
O'er his own regions lingering loves to shine,
Though there his altars are no more divine.[1]10
Descending fast, the mountain-shadows kiss
Thy glorious Gulf, unconquered Salamis!
Their azure arches through the long expanse,[2]
More deeply purpled, meet his mellowing glance,
And tenderest tints, along their summits driven,
Mark his gay course, and own the hues of Heaven;
Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep,
Behind his Delphian rock he sinks to sleep.[3]
On such an eve his palest beam he cast
When, Athens! here thy Wisest looked his last.20
How watched thy better sons his farewell ray,
That closed their murdered Sage's[4] latest day!
Not yet—not yet—Sol pauses on the hill,
The precious hour of parting lingers still;
But sad his light to agonizing eyes,
And dark the mountain's once delightful dyes;
Gloom o'er the lovely land he seemed to pour,
The land where Phœbus never frowned before;
But ere he sunk below Cithæron's head,
- ↑ Nor yet forbears each long-abandoned shrine.—[MS.]
- ↑
Their varying azure mingled with the sky
Beneath his rays assumes a deeper dye.—[MS.] - ↑ Behind his Delphian cliff .—[Corsair, III. st. i. l. 18.]
- ↑ Socrates drank the hemlock a short time before sunset (the hour of execution), notwithstanding the entreaties of his disciples to wait till the sun went down.
