Yet Caledonia claims some native worth,[1]
As dull Bœotia gave a Pindar birth;150
So may her few, the lettered and the brave,
Bound to no clime and victors of the grave,
Shake off the sordid dust of such a land,
And shine like children of a happier strand;
As once, of yore, in some obnoxious place,
Ten names (if found) had saved a wretched race."
"Mortal!" the blue-eyed maid resumed, "once more
Bear back my mandate to thy native shore.[2]
Though fallen, alas! this vengeance yet is mine,
To turn my counsels far from lands like thine.160
Hear then in silence Pallas' stern behest;
Hear and believe, for Time will tell the rest.
"First on the head of him who did this deed
My curse shall light,—on him and all his seed:
Without one spark of intellectual fire,
Be all the sons as senseless as the sire:
If one with wit the parent brood disgrace,
Believe him bastard of a brighter race:
