Yet do I feel for thee a filial love,
And ev'ry dream which visits me by day,
Or cheers my nightly slumbers, traces out
Some vivid image of thy glories past.
Late as I slept within a gloomy cave,
Where falling rills murmur'd tranquillity,
Amid the ev'ning's splendour I beheld
A solemn vision, which reveal'd thy state
In times of old, and from the shadows deep
Of ancient days led forth thy pomp to view.
I stood, methought, upon the cloudless brow
Of that high hill which overlooks the plain
Of Cecrops; splendid scenes beneath me lay,
Rich fields by rivers water'd; sloping glades,
Studded with flocks; woods shrouding with their gloom
The mountain-cliff; temples and marble shafts
Of sparkling whiteness; promontories, seas,
And islands slumb'ring on their silver breast.
A form approach'd me of majestic port;
A snow-white vest that floated o'er her limbs
Show'd thro' its op'ning folds a golden mail;
A zone compress'd her waist; a helmet bound
Her flowing locks, and shadow'd her stern brow,
On which the lines of thought were trac'd; I bow'd
With rev'rence to the form, whom soon I knew
The Deity of Athens; from the ground
She rais'd me, and in accents mild began—
· Mortal, the splendid pageant passes by,
'Rise and behold'-I look'd; a port appear'd,
Gloomy and dark, by circling headlands form'd;
Upon its sandy beach a thousand ships
Lay anchor'd, and along the level shore,
Where tents and waving standards shone afar,
Arm'd warriors mingled in their manly games,
And hurl'd the disk, or curb'd with golden bits
Their neighing steeds; or bounded in their cars,
Girded with mail and cuirass; dark the field
Gleam'd with an iron hue. The winds arose
And bore the navy o'er the lofty surge;
When on a distant shore, whose misty line
Streak'd the wide orient, the squadrons leap'd,
And 'gainst a town, frowning with tower'd walls,
Lin'd with grim visages, and throng'd with spears,
Bent the attack, by batt'ry and by mine,
And swift assault, and cow'ring ambuscade ;
Till after long defence, and mighty deeds
On either side perform'd, it sunk in flames.
I look'd again, and on th' horizon's verge
Beheld a cloud rising in air; it swell'd
As on it roll'd; then low'ring o'er the deep,
Burst on the shore; from its dark bosom cast
Myriads of armed men exulting sprang,
And rang'd th' embattled march; banners were seen,
Waving, and fiery spears, and brazen shields
Lunate or round; mitres and linen coifs,
And iron helmets; golden-tissued robes,
And silken mantles, all confus'dly mix'd,
And cars and bowmen, and the serried troops
Of horse and foot; the long train darken'd wide
The earth, and spread around a moving shade.
Against this countless host a chosen band
Of warriors rush'd in close array, to strains
Of flute and pipe sounding their martial airs.
Where'er they mov'd they trod on fallen foes-
A line of devastation mark'd their way—
Their course was like the winged hurricane,
Sweeping the mighty forest from the plain.
But now the scene was chang'd; upon the sea,
Which lay extended at my feet, the morn
Rose tranquil; the calm waters murmʼring broke
Along an island's rocks which back return'd
From jutting cape and barren precipice,
The roar of clarions and the cheerful shouts
Of thousands hanging o'er their vessels' sides,
With lance and shield: deep plunging their broad oars They rush'd to battle, singing Pæans loud,
And hymns of triumph; on the other side
Fear rang'd her trembling hosts and straightway fled.
Then Havoc rag'd, upon a galley's beak
Riding sublime; the flying armament
Shrunk at the flash of his uplifted spear;
Nor rested he, but urg'd his brazen prow
O'er broken masts, and beams, and shatter'd oars,
And corpses floating in the bloody foam.
Again I gaz'd, but all the din of war Was hush'd to rest. Within a city's walls, Beneath a marble portico, were seen Statesmen and orators in robes of peace,
Holding discourse. Th' assembled multitude
Sat in the crowded theatre, and bent
To hear the voice of gorgeous Tragedy
Breathing in solemn verse or ode sublime
Her noble precepts. The broad city's gates
Pour'd forth a mingled throng-impatient steeds,
Champing their bits, and neighing for the course:
Merchants slow driving to the busy port
Their pond'rous wains; Religion's holy priests
Leading her red-rob'd vot'ries to the steps
Of some vast temple; young and old, with hands Cross'd on their breasts, hast'ning to walks and shades Suburban, where some moralist explain'd
The laws of mind and virtue. On a rock
A varied group appear'd; some dragg'd along
The rough-hewn block, some shap'd it into form,
Some rear'd the column, or with chissel trac'd
Forms more than human, whilst Content sat near
And cheer'd with songs the toil of Industry.
Soon pass'd this peaceful pageant-War again
Brandish'd his bloody lance; my fainting eyes
Grew dim, and scarcely saw the dreadful scene
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