Blooms blushing to her lover's tale:
His queen, the garden queen, his Rose,
Unbent by winds, unchill'd by snows,
Far from the winters of the West,
By every breeze and season blest,
Returns the sweets by nature given
In softest incense back to heaven;
And grateful yields that smiling sky
Her fairest hue and fragrant sigh.
And many a summer flower is there,
And many a shade that love might share,
And many a grotto meant for rest,
That holds the pirate for a guest;
Whose bark in sheltering cove below
Lurks for the passing peaceful prow,
Till the gay mariner's guitari *

Is heard, and seen the evening star;
Then stealing with the muffled oar,
Far shaded by the rocky shore,
Rush the night-prowlers on the prey,
And turn to groans his roundelay.
Strange-that where nature loved to trace,
As if for gods a dwelling-place,

And every grace and charm hath mix'd
Within the paradise she fix'd-
There man, enamour'd of distress,
Should már it into wilderness,

And trample, brute-like, o'er each flower
That tasks not one laborious hour;
Nor claims the culture of his hand
To bloom along the fairy land,
But springs as to preclude his care,
And sweetly woos him-but to spare.
Stran e-that where all is peace beside,
There passion ricts in her pride,
And lust and rapine wildly reign,
To darken o'er the fair domain.
It is as though the fiends prevail'd
Against the seraphs they assail'd,

And, fix'd on heavenly thrones, should dwell
The freed inheritors of hell;

So soft the scene, so form'd for joy,
So curst the tyrants that destroy!

He who hath bent him o'er the dead
Ere the first day of death is fled,
The first dark day of nothingness,
The last of danger and distress
(Before Decay's effacing fingers

Have swept the lines where beauty lingers),
And mark'd the mild angelic air-
The rapture of repose that's there-
The fix'd yet tender traits that streak
The languor of the placid check.
And-but for that sad shrouded eye.

That fires not, wins not, weeps not now-
And but for that chill, changeless brow,
Where cold Obstruction's apathy
Appals the gazing mourner's heart,
As if to him it could impart

The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon-
Yes, but for these and these alone,
Some inoments, ay, one treacherous hour.
He still might doubt the tyrant's power.
So fair, so calm, so softly seal'd,
The first, last look by death reveal'd!*
Such is the aspect of this shore-
'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more!
So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,
We start-for soul is wanting there.
Hers is the loveliness in death,

That parts not quite with parting breath;

But beauty with that fearful bloom.
That hue which haunts it to the tomb-
Expression's last receding ray,

A gilded halo hovering round decay.

The farewell beam of Feeling pass'd away! Spark of that flame-perchance of heavenly birthWhich gleams, but warms no more its cherish'd earth!

Clime of the unforgotten brave! Whose land from plain to mountain-cave Was Freedom's home, or Glory's graveShrine of the mighty! can it be That this is all remains of thee? Approach, thou craven crouching slave.

Say, is not this Thermopyle? These waters blue that round you lave, O servile offspring of the freePronounce what sea, what shore is this? The gulf, the rock of Salamis! These scenes, their story not unknown, Arise, and make again your own; Snatch from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires; And he who in the strife expires Will add to theirs a name of fear, That Tyranny shall quake to hear, And leave his sons a hope, a fame. They too will rather die than shame: For Freedom's battle once begun, Bequeathed by bleeding Sire to Son, Though baffled oft, is ever won. Bear witness, Greece, thy living page! Attest it many a deathless age! While kings, in dusty darkness hid, Have left a nameless pyramid, Thy heroes-though the general doom Hath swept the column from their tomb, A mightier monument command, The mountains of their native land! There points thy Muse to stranger's eye The graves of those that cannot die!

the countenance preserves its traits of feeling or ferocity, and the mind its bias, to the last.