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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115254" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Byron among the ruins of Greece</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">[A SCHOOL COMPOSITION.]<br> <br>  On what sweet shore the blue AEgean laves,<br>  Where loveliness is wedded to decay, --<br>  Beauty to desolation, -- 'mid the graves<br>  Of an immortal race, and ruins, gray<br>  With the dim veil of years, a sleeper lay; --<br>  And in his dream, Time's never-ebbing tide<br>  Rolled back, and bore him to that earlier day,<br>  When Greece was decked in beauty, like a bride,<br> Glory upon her path and freedom by her side.<br> <br>  Against the radiance of her azure sky,<br>  Rose many a pillared fane, divinely wrought,<br>  Whose marble forms defied mortality; --<br>  There pale Philosophy unveiled, and taught<br>  Her mystic lore, and waged her war of thought,<br>  And all her bright and baseless visions wove; --<br>  There Art her never-dying treasures brought:<br>  He saw Apelles' glowing canvas move,<br> And at Pygmalion's prayer the statue wake to love.<br> <br>  Then came her bards, her orators and sages; --<br>  Once more he heard those voices that had rung<br>  Down through the vista of succeeding ages:<br>  "The blind old bard of Scio's isle" there strung<br>  His matchless lyre, and breathed the earliest song:<br>  And now Demosthenes before him stood,<br>  Pouring his tide of eloquence, that strong,<br>  Deep and o'erwhelming, swayed the multitude,<br> As the invisible wind sways the wild ocean's flood.<br> <br>  Armed warriors too were there, their helmets gleaming<br>  On deathless Marathon's green, sea-girt plain,<br>  That now with Persia's choicest blood was streaming:<br>  Thermopylae's "three hundred" fought again;<br>  Again its pass was piled with countless slain,<br>  From the invader's host, as on that day<br>  When Sparta's bravest sons had vowed to drain<br>  Their heart's best blood for her. There, as he lay,<br> These glorious visions passed, in beautiful array.<br> <br>  The dreamer woke, -- he rested there alone,<br>  By that high temple whence had Pallas fled:<br>  Where once she lingered, now the crescent shone,<br>  And round him wandered many a turbanned head,<br>  Treading in mockery o'er the immortal dead;<br>  And conscious Nature there, as if to screen<br>  The nakedness of Ruin, had ouspread<br>  Her gayest flowers to deck her saddest scene,<br> And hung, o'er mouldering walls, her tapestry of green.<br> <br>  And many a Grecian slave to Turkish foe<br>  In hopeless bondage bowed the unwilling knee,<br>  And, all too weak to strike the avenging blow,<br>  To rend the galling chains of slavery,<br>  And write their names once more among the free,<br>  But humbled in despair, unmoved behold<br>  Their shrine defaced, their altars borne away,<br>  By every plunderer, even the hallowed mould<br> Of Marathon itself, exchanged for foreign gold.<br> <br>  And as he mused upon her buried worth,<br>  'Mid her fallen columns and her ruined fanes, --<br>  That none were there to lead her children forth;<br>  To strike with them, and burst their servile chains,<br>  And with their blood to wash away the stains<br>  That their great name on Freedom's record dyed, --<br>  He touched his harp, and the enchanting strains,<br>  The world was hushed to hear -- and then aside<br> Bade Poesy retire, and made sad Greece his bride.<br> <br>  A fitting bride for one like him, who stood<br>  On that high steep, where few have dared their flight;<br>  Against whose name Time's all resistless flood<br>  Shall dash in vain; who, through decay and blight<br>  And desolation, dazzled with the light<br>  That fast consumed him, where he stood on high,<br>  Like a lone star on the dark brow of night: --<br>  He sleeps upon that shore -- a Grecian sky,<br> For a high soul like his, were fitting canopy.<br> <br>  Rest, warrior bard! Above thy head shall bloom<br>  The greenest laurel of Peneus' tide; --<br>  Genius shall come a pilgrim to thy tomb,<br>  And for her champion Freedom turn aside,<br>  To weep the bitter tears she may not hide;<br>  And thy young handmaid, Poesy, shall shed<br>  Her brightest halo there; and Greece, thy bride,<br>  Shall give to thee (and oh, can more be said!)<br> A name to live with hers -- a home among her Dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Lynch+Botta">Anne Lynch Botta</a> from <i>Poems</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115254" data-title="Byron among the ruins of Greece de Anne Lynch Botta" data-description="[A SCHOOL COMPOSITION.]/ /  On what sweet shore the blue AEgean 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; --/  An..."></div>
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