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In secret we met—
In silence I grieve,
Thy spirit deceive.
After long years,
With silence and tears. r
Maid of Athens, ere we part
By those tresses unconfined,
By that lip I long to taste;
Maid of Athens! I am gone:Think of me, sweet! when alone.
AND THOU ART DEAD
"Heu, quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse I
AnD thou art dead, as young and fair
As aught of mortal birth;
Too soon return'd to Earth!
In carelessness or mirth,
I will not ask where thou liest low,
Nor gaze upon the spot;
So I behold them not:
Like common earth can rot;
Yet did I love thee to the last
As fervently as thou,
And canst not alter now.
Nor falsehood disavow:
The better days of life were ours; |The worst can be but mine: 11The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers,
The silence of that dreamless sleep
Nor need I to repine
The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd
Must fall the earliest prey;
The leaves must drop away: 40
Than see it pluck'd to-day;
I know not if I could have borne
To see thy beauties fade;
Had worn a deeper shade:
Extinguish'd, not decay'd;
As once I wept, if I could weep,
My tears might well be shed, To think I was not near to keep
One vigil o'er thy bed;
Uphold thy drooping head;
Yet how much less it were to gain,
Than thus remember thee!
THE GLORY THAT WAS GREECE
Clime of the unforgotten brave!
Say, is not this Thermopylae?
O servile offspring of the free—
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, 3°
The mountains of their native land!
There points thy Muse to stranger's eye
The graves of those that cannot die!
'Twere long to tell, and sad to trace,
Each step from splendour to disgrace;
Enough—no foreign foe could quell
Thy soul, till from itself it fell;
Yes! Self-abasement paved the way
To villain-bonds and despot sway. 39
KNOW YE THE LAND
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine;
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in her bloom;
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute: w
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In color though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?
'Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of the Sun—
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done?
Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell. 19