For those who on my memory slanders fling,
Envying the songs they have no power to sing!
"Gods of Olympus! Comrades of my thought,
Where is the fire that once Prometheus brought
To light the world? It warmed my ardent veins,
And still the nations echo forth my strains;
Greece still doth hold me as her minstrel dear
And decks with fragrant myrtle boughs my bier—
England forgets—but England is no more
The England that our fathers loved of yore—