Oh that such dreams alone had fled that clime!
But Greece is changed in all that could be changed by time!
LXVI.
Her skies are those whence many a mighty bard
Caught inspiration, glorious as their beams;
Her hills the same that heroes died to guard,
Her vales, that foster’d Art’s divinest dreams!
But that bright spirit o’er the land that shone,
And all around pervading influence pour’d,
That lent the harp of Æschylus its tone,