Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour,
He still might doubt the tyrant’s power;
So fair, so calm, so softly seal’d,
The first, last look by death reveal’d!
Such is the aspect of this shore;
’Tis Greece, but living Greece no more!
So coldly sweet, so deadly fair.
We start, for soul is wanting there.
Hers is the loveliness in death,
That parts not quite with parting breath;