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The cup

But ere he sunk beneath Cithæron's head,

of wo was quaff’d-the spirit fled; The soul of him who scorn'd to fear or Ay, Who liv'd and died as none can live or die.

But lo! from high Hymettus to the plain The Queen of Night asserts her silent reign;* No murky vapour, berald of the storm, Hides her fair face, or girds her glowing form: With cornice glimmering as the moon beams playThere the white column greets her grateful ray, And bright around with quivering beams beset, Her emblem sparkles o'er the minaret. The groves of olive, scatter'd dark and wide, Where meek Cephisus pours bis scanty tide, The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque; The gleaming turret of the gay kiosk,t And sad and sombre ʼmid the holy calm, Near Theseus' fane, yon solitary palm; All ting'd with varied hues arrest the eye, And dull were his that pass'd them heedless by. Again the Ægean, heard no more afar, Lulls his chafed breast from elemental war? Again his waves in milder tints unfold Their long expanse of sapphire and of gold, Mix'd with the shades of many a distant isle That frown where gentler ocean deigns to smile.

As thus within the walls of Pattas' fane
I mark'd the beauties of the land and main,

* The twilight in Greece is much shorter than in our own country. The days in winter are longer, but in summer of less duration.

† The kiosk is a Turkish suinmer-house--the palm is without the present walls of Athens, not far from the temple of Theseus, between which and the tree the wall intervenes-Cephisus' stream is indeed scanty, and 1Vissus has no stream at all.

Alone and friendless on the magic shore,
Whose arts and arms but live in poet's lore;
Oft as the matchless dome I turn'd to scan,
Sacred to Gods, but not secure from man,
The past return'd, the present seem'd to cease,
And Glory knew no clime beyond her Greece.

Hours roll'd along, and Dian's orb on high
Had gain'd the centre of her softest sky,
And yet unwearied still my footsteps trod
O'er the vain shrine of many a vanish'd god:
But chiefly, Pallas! thine; when Hecate's giare
Check'd by the columns, fell more sadly fair
O'er the chill marble, where the startling tread
Thrills the lone heart, like echoes from the dead.

Long had I mused and treasured every trace The wreck of Greece recorded of her race, When lo!-a giant-form before me strode, And Pallas hail'd me in her own abode. Yes--twas Minerva's self—but ah! how changed Since o'er the Dardan field in arms she ranged! Not such as erst by her divine command, Her form appear'd from Phidias' plastic hand. Gone were the terrors of her awful brow, Her idle ægis bore no Gorgod now; Her helm was deep indented, and her lance

Seem'd weak and shaftless e'en to mortal glance: • The olive branch, which still she deign’d to clasp,

Shrunk from her hand and withered in her grasp.

And ab! though still the brightest of the sky,
Celestial tears bedew'd her large blue eye;
Round ber rent casque her owlet circled slow;
And mourn'd bis mistress with a shriek of wo.

“Mortal!" ('twas thus she spoke)" that blush of shame
Proclaims thee Briton-once a noble name-
First of the mighty, foremost of the free,
Now honour'd less by all, but least by me;
Chief of thy foes shall Pallas still be found:
Seek'st thou the cause? Oh, Mortal! look around,
Lo! here, despite of war and wasting fire,
I saw successive tyrannies expire;
'Scaped from the ravage of the Turk and Goth,
Thy country sends a spoiler worse than both.
Survey this vacant violated fane,
Recount the relics torn that yet remain;
These Cecrops placed--this Pericles adorn'd-
That Hadrian rear'd when drooping Science mourn'd.
What more I owe, let gratitude attest.
Know, Alaric and Elgin did the rest-
That all may learn from whence the plunderer came
Th’insulted wall sustains his hated name,*
For Elgin's fame thus grateful Pallas pleads;
Below, his name; above, behold his deeds.
Be ever hail'd with equal honour here,
The Gothic monarch, and the British peer.
Arms gave the first his right, the last had none,
But basely stole what less barbarians won:
So, when the lion quits his fell repast,
Next prowls the wolf, the filthy jackal last;

* It is related by a late oriental traveller that when the wholesale spoliator visited Athens, he caused his own name, with that of his wife, to be inscribed on a pillar of one of the principal temples: this inscription was executed in a very conspicuous manner, and deeply engraved in the marble, at a very considerable elevation. Notwithstanding which precautions, some person (doubtless inspired by the patron-goddess) has been at the pains to get

himself raised up to the requisite height, and has obliterated the name of the laird, but left that of the lady untouched. The traveller in question accompanied this story by a remark, that it must have cost some labour and contrivance to get at the place, and could only have been eifected by much zeal and determination,

Flesh, limbs, and blood, the former make their own,
The last base brute securely knaws the bone.
Yet still the Gods are just, and crimes are crost;
See here, what Elgin won, and what he lost.
Another name with his pollutes my shrine:
Behold, where Dian's bearns disdain to shine-
Some retribution still might Pallas claim,
When Venus half-aveng'd Minerva's shame."*

She ceased awhile, and thus I dared reply, To sooth the vengeance kindling in her eye:

Daughter of Jove! in Britain's injured name, A true-born Briton may the deed disclaim. Frown pot on England-England owns him not:Athena! 00- -the plunderer was a Scott Ask'st thou the difference? from fair Phile's towers Survey Baotia:--Caledonia's ours

" And well I know within that murky land Hath Wisdom's goddess never held command; A barren soil, where nature's germs confin'd To stern sterility cap stint the mind; Where thistle well betrays the niggard earth, Emblem of all to whom the land gives birth; Each genial influence nurtured to resist A land of liars, moutebanks and mist, Each breeze from foggy mount and marshy plain Dilutes with drivel every drizzly brain, Till burst at length, each wat’ry bead o'erflows, Foul as their soil and frigid as their snows;

* The portrait of sir WW. D'Avenant illustrates this line.

+ The plaster wall on the west side of the temple of Minerva-polias bears the following inscription, cut in very deep characters:

" Quod non fecerunt Goli,
Hoc fecerunt Scoti.”—

Hob house's Travels in Greece, &c. p. 345.

Ten thousand schemes of petulance and pride
Despatch her reckoning children far and wide:
Some east, some west, some-every where but north
lo quest of lawless gain, they issue forth-
And thus accursed be the day and year
She sent a Pict to play the felon here,
Yet Caledonia claims some native worth,
And dull Bæutia gave a Pindar birth.
So may her few, the letter'd and the brave,
Bound to no clime, and victors o'er the grave,
Shake off the mossy slime of such a land,
And shine like cbildren of a happier strand.
As once of yore ip 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; To turn my counsels far from lands like thine,

Though fallen, alas! this vengeance yet is mine;
Hear, then, in silence, Pallas' stern behest,
Hear and believe, for time will tell the rest:
First on the head of him who did the deed
My curse sball light, on him and all his seed;
Without one spark of intellectual fire,
Be all his sons as sepseless as their sire:
If one with wit the parent breed disgrace,
Believe him bastard of a better race:
Still with bis hireling artists let him prate,
And Folly's praise repay for Wisdom's hate.*

*“Nor will this conduct (tlie sacrilegious plunder of ancient edifices] appear wonderful in'men, either by birth, or by habits and grovelling passions, barbarians, (i.e. Goths) when in our own times, and almost before our own eyes, persons of rank and education have not hesitated to disfigure the most ancient and the most venerable monuments of Grecian architec ture; to tear the works of Phidias and Praxiteles from their original posia tion, and demolish fabrics, which time, war, and barbarism, had respected during twenty centuries. The French, whose rapacity the voice of

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