Green boughs (commemoration holy
Of that twin-birth that lit their gloom):—
There must I weep a captive’s doom?
There sing, with gladsome native maids,
Extorted song and melancholy
To Dian’s silver bow and crown?
STROPHE II.
Perchance, a slave in Athens pining,
On tap’stried walls these hands must trace
Minerva’s awful steeds and car