That fringe Propontis’ bosomed shores,
And where the mouth of hoarse Pontus roars.
STROPHE III.
And the sea-swept isles that like sentinels stand
Breasting the ports of the Asian land,
Lesbos and Chios, with bright wine glowing,
And Samos, where groves of green olive are growing,
Myconos, Paros, and Naxos together,
Studding the main like brother with brother,
And Andros that neighbourly lies in the sea,