Return to tell, a spirit’s eye can see
The things of earth: still may’st thou hail the sun,
Which o’er thy land shall dawn, when freedom’s fight is won!
C.
And the hour comes, in storm! A light is glancing
Far through the forest god’s Arcadian shades!
—’Tis not the moonbeam, tremulously dancing,
Where lone Alpheus bathes his haunted glades.
A murmur, gathering power, the air pervades,
Round dark Cithæron and by Delphi’s steep;