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GREECE.

PART I.

CONTENTS OF PART I.

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Invocation-Scenery near Cocytus Acheron and the Acherusian Lake-Ali
Pasha's Court-Apostrophe to the Natives of Suli conquered by Ali-To
Phrosyne, a beautiful Greek, murdered by Ali's orders-Ascent of Mount
Pindus Formerly the Abode of the Muses-View from the Summit of
Pindus-Source of the River Penëus-Its Course through Thessaly-Vale
of Tempe-View of the Plains of Thessaly at Noon-Death of a Traveller
The Inhabitants of ancient Thessaly pre-eminent in Arts and Sciences-
Contrasted with the present abject Natives-Thermopyla and Leonidas-
Ascent of Mount Eta-Night Scene of a Greek Village burnt by Robbers
-Parnassus and Delphi-The Abode of Poetry and Superstition-Sketch
of the ancient State of Delphi in Peace - Attack of Delphi by the
Persians-Journey by the Tomb of Laïus, the Cave of Trophonius, and
Charonea-Thebes-Conclusion.

GREECE.

PART I.

POETIC Spirit! who on Delphi's rocks,

In silent caverns, nature's solemn fanes,

Delight'st to dwell; and, with a parent's care,
Leadest thy votʼries to each cliff sublime,
Each flow'ry vale, and dreary solitude,
Till ev'ry heaving bosom swells with throbs
Of rapture, and each infant thought bursts forth
In song—from yonder oak, whose giant arms,
Scath'd by the storms of ages, shoot athwart
The torrent's foaming eddy, reach thy harp,
And though around its frame the ivy twines,

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And the wild winds have rudely swept the strings

Erst touch'd by thee, yet O again once more

Recal its sacred melodies, and strike

Its dying echoes into harmony.

And thou, poetic Spirit, guard my steps

Whilst by each hallow'd stream, and peaceful grot,
And dark embower'd glen, thy favour'd haunts,
I wander; lead me to the awful groves,
Where lingers still the Genius of the place,
And with his shadowy finger dimly marks
The spot where sages taught, where poets sang,
Where heroes bled; direct mine eager gaze
To where the solitary temple rears

Its time-stain'd columns to the purple sky,
Majestic still, though desolate; then guide
Mine uninstructed hand across the chords,
And listen to the strains by thee inspir'd.
And hark, upon the mountain breezes float
The harp's soft sounds, not, as in times of old,
Swelling the lofty Pæan, midst the throng
Of bards, and hoary sages; not, as erst,
Rolling its high and martial symphonies.

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In the deep tide of triumph and of joy
Before the march of warriors; but in notes

Broken, and full of grief, in accents sad,
As the first sobs of winter heard along
The leafless forest, with its muffled strings
It rings responsive to the widow's shriek,
Or captive's bitter groan of agony.

Ye then endow'd with Nature's fairest gifts,
Children of Taste and Fancy, in whose hearts
The flood of life beats quicker, when ye hear
The
song of ancient times, th' immortal tale

Of bold heroic deeds, and firm resolve

And dauntless enterprise; whose kindling eyes
Flash indignation on the servile lays
Of minions crouching at a tyrant's throne,

But glow with transport at the deathless hymn
Rais'd to the godlike men, who bar'd their breasts,
And wing'd their bloody falchions in defence
Of sacred liberty: ye who can find

In ev'ry mould'ring stone, and moss-grown shaft,
A voice, whose eloquence can touch the heart
With more true sympathy than all the pomp

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