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BYRON.
BYRON AMONG THE RUINS OF GREECE.
[A school composition.]
On that sweet shore the blue Agean laves,
Where loveliness is wedded to decay,—
Beauty to desolation,—’mid the graves
Of an immortal race, and ruins, gray
With the dim veil of years, a sleeper lay;—
And in his dream, Time’s never-ebbing tide
Rolled back, and bore him to that earlier day,
When Greece was decked in beauty, like a bride,
Glory upon her path and freedom by her side.
Where loveliness is wedded to decay,—
Beauty to desolation,—’mid the graves
Of an immortal race, and ruins, gray
With the dim veil of years, a sleeper lay;—
And in his dream, Time’s never-ebbing tide
Rolled back, and bore him to that earlier day,
When Greece was decked in beauty, like a bride,
Glory upon her path and freedom by her side.
Against the radiance of her azure sky,
Rose many a pillared fane, divinely wrought,
Whose marble forms defied mortality;—
There pale Philosophy unveiled, and taught
Her mystic lore, and waged her war of thought,
And all her bright and baseless visions wove;—
There Art her never-dying treasures brought:
He saw Apelles’ glowing canvas move,
And at Pygmalion’s prayer the statue wake to love.
Rose many a pillared fane, divinely wrought,
Whose marble forms defied mortality;—
There pale Philosophy unveiled, and taught
Her mystic lore, and waged her war of thought,
And all her bright and baseless visions wove;—
There Art her never-dying treasures brought:
He saw Apelles’ glowing canvas move,
And at Pygmalion’s prayer the statue wake to love.
