Whom thy green age hath nourished at thy side—
By thy foes cherished, envied while betrayed,
The home of greatness is thy mighty shade!
The mind that from antiquity would claim
The vanished forms of liberty and fame—
The spirit meek that greets a purer day,
Scorning the world’s vain gods of vulgar sway,
That seeks an only altar, loftier still,
For one true God, supreme, invisible—
Both, both, with bitter tenderness and trust