Winchester Republican

From the London New Monthly Magazine

STANZAS,
Excited by some reflections on the present state
of Greece.

Greece! glorious Greece! what hast thou but
a name?
The echo of a cataract gone by?
The once victorious voice of all thy fame,
Which awed the world now trembles in a sigh;
And I will sing thy glory's lullaby—
[lyre]
For I have loved thee, Greece—and o'er the
Faintly and sadly shall my fingers fly—
The mournful cadence dies upon the wire,
And on the desolate winds those melodies ex-
pire!

Yes! I have loved thee—and my youthful soul
Hath widely dreamt of glory, and of thee—
Burst the proud links of man's severe control,
And sprang to sojourn with the great and free.
Oh! who would not thy vot'ry, Græcia, be!
And I have hung upon th' enchanted page
Fatranced, and wept thy fallen liberty—
Till my breast thrill'd with all the patriot's
rage,
And soar'd aloft, to greet the hero, poet, sage.

Where art thou, Athens, and what art thou now?
Thy spirit even, exalted land, is free!—
Tho' withered, yet the laurel shades thy brow—
The desolate all that now remains of thee,
Mother of arts, and arms, and liberty!
A lovely corse, encircled by a wreath
Of faded flowers, my heart alone can see—
And I will love thee, tho' despoiled of breath,
For thou art beauteous, Græcia, e'en in death!