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Again his waves in milder tints unfold
Their long expanse of sapphire and of gold,
Mix'd with the shades of many a distant isle
That frown where gentler ocean deigns to smile.

As thus within the walls of Pattas' fane
I mark'd the beauties of the land and main,
Alone and friendless on the magic shore,
Whose arts and arms but live in poet's lore;
Oft as the matchless dome I turn'd to scan,
Sacred to Gods, but not secure from man,
The past return'd, the present seem'd to cease,
And Glory knew no clime beyond her Greece.

Hours roll'd along, and Dian's orb on high Had gain’d the centre of her sostest sky, And yet unwearied still my footsteps trod O'er the vain shrine of many a vanish'd god : But chiefly, Pallas! thine : when Hecate's glare Check'd by the columns, fell more sadly fair O'er the chill marble, where the startling tread Thrills the lone heart, like echoes from the dead.

Long had I mused and treasured every trace The wreck of Greece recorded of her race, When lo! a giant-form before me strode, And PALLAS hail'd me in her own abode. Yes—'twas MINERVA's self-but ah! how changed Since o'er the Dardan field in arms she ranged !

Not such as erst by her divine command,
Her form appeard from Phidias' plastic hand.
Gone were the terrors of her awful brow,
Her idle ægis bore no Gorgon now;
Her helm was deep indented, and her lance
Seem'd weak and shaftless e’en to mortal glance:
The olive branch, which still she deign'd to clasp,
Shrunk from her hand and withered in her grasp.

And ah! though still the brightest of the sky,
Celestial tears bedew'd her large blue eye;
Round her rent casque her owlet circled slow;
And mourn'd his mistress with a shriek of wo.
“ Mortal !” ('twas thus she spoke) " that blush of

shame
Proclaims thee Briton-once a noble name
First of the mighty, foremost of the free,
Now honour'd less by all, but least by me;
Chief of thy foes shall Pallas still be found:
Seek'st thou the cause ? oh, Mortal! look around,
Lo! here, despite of war and wasting fire,
I saw successive tyrannies expire ;
'Scaped from the ravage of the Turk and Goth,
Thy country sends a spoiler worse than both.

Survey this vacant violated fane,
Recount the relics torn that yet remain ;
These CECROPS placed—this Pericles adorn'd-
That Hadrian rear'dwhen drooping Science mourn'd.

What more Iowe, let gratitude attest.
Know, ALARIC and Elgin did the rest.-
That all may learn from whence the plunderer came
Th’insulted wall sustains his hated name.*
For Elgin's fame thus grateful PALLAS pleads;
Below, his name; above, behold his deeds.
Be ever haild with equal honour here,
The Gothic monarch, and the British peer.
Arms gave the first his right, the last had none,
But basely stole what less barbarians won:
So, when the lion quits his fell repast,
Next prowls the wolf, the filthy jackal last;
Flesh, limbs and blood, the former make their own,
The last base brute securely gnaws the bone.
Yet still the Gods are just, and crimes are crost :
See here, what Elgin won, and what he lost.
Another name with his pollutes my shrine:
Behold, where Dian's beams disdain to shine-
Some retribution still might Pallas claim,
When VENUS half-aveng'd MINERVA's shamet."

* It is related by a late oriental traveller that when the wholesale spoliator visited Athens, he caused his own name, with that of his wife, to be inscribed or a pillar of one of the principal temples: this inscription was executed in a very conspicuous manner, and deeply engraved in the marble, at a very coosiderable elevation. Notwithstanding which precautions, some person (doubtless inspired by the patron-goddess) has been at the pains to get himself raised up to the requisite height, and has obliterated the name of the laird, but left that of the lady untouched. The traveller in question accompanied this story by a remark, that it must have cost some labour and contrivance to get at the place, and could only bave been effected by much zeal and determination.

† The portrait of sir Wm. D'Avenant illustrates this ling.

She ceased awhile, and thus I dared reply, To soothe the vengeance kindling in her eye :“ Daughter of Jove! in Britain's injured name, A true-born Briton may the deed disclaim. Frown not on England-England owns him not:Athena ? no- the plunderer was a Scot.f Ask'st thou the difference? from fair Phile's towers Survey Beotia :-Caledonia's ours

And well I know within that murky land Hath Wisdom's goddess never held command; A barren soil where nature's germs confin'd To stern sterility can stint the mind; Where thistle well betrays the niggard earth, Emblem of all to whom the land gives birth ; Each genial influence nurtured to resist A land of liars, mountebanks and unist, Each breeze from foggy mount and marshy plain Dilutes with drivel every drizzly brain, Till burst at length, each wat’ry head o'erflows, Foul as their soil and frigid as their snows; Ten thousand schemes of petulance and pride Despatch her reckoning children far and wide : Some east, some west, some-every where but north In quest of lawless gain, they issue forth

+ The plaster wall on the west side of the temple of Minerva-polias bears the following inscription, cut in very deep characters :

" Quod non fecerunt Goli,
Hoc fecerunt Scoti."---

Hobhouse's Travels in Greece, &c. p. 345.

And thus accursed be the day and year
She sent a Pict to play the felon here.
Yet Caledonia claims some native worth,
And dull Bæotia gave a Pindar birth.
So may her few, the letter'd and the brave,
Bound to no clime, and victors o'er the grave,
Shake off the mossy slime of such a land,
And shine like children of a happier strand.
As once of yore in some obnoxious place,
Ten names (if found) had sav'd a wretched race.”

“Mortal! (the blue-eyed maid resumed once more) Bear back my mandate to thy native shore; To turn my counsels far from lands like thine, Though fallen, alas! this vengeance yet is mine: Hear, then, in silence, Pallas' stern behest, Hear and believe, for time will tell the rest: First on the head of him who did the deed My curse shall light, on him and all his seed; Without one spark of intellectual fire, Be all his sons as senseless as their sire: If one with wit the parent breed disgrace, Believe him bastard of a better race: Still with his hireling artists let him prate, And Folly's praise repay for Wisdom's hate*.

* “Nor will this conduct (the sacrilegious plunder of ancient edifices) appear wonderful in men, either by birth, or by habits and grovelling passions, barbarians, (i. e. Goths) when in our own times, and almost before our own eyes, persons of frank and education have not hesitated to disfigure the most ancient and the most venerable monu

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