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But when insulted by the Victor's Sword,
And haughty Dictates of a foreign Lord,
To take the Yoak she did obedient bow,
And Liberty receiv'd the fatal Blow;
The hapless Nation, by a swift Decay,
Sunk from its Heighth, and base in Ruin lay.
The Trav'ller now, who sees thy wasted Lands,
And worthless Sons, O Greece! astonish'd stands.

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And cries, what strange Reverse of Fate is this?
Good Heav'n! What Change? I Greece in Grecia miss.
Where's the Lyceum? Where the Stoa's Pride?
Where the great Sages, who did there preside,
And by wise Precepts Humane Nature rais'd?
Where the fam'd Bards, who Gods and Heroes prais'd?
Shew me thy Plato's, and thy Stagyrites,
Thy Pythagorean and Socratick Lights.
Would'st thou, O Athens, own this stupid Race?
Or Sparta, thou, these as thy Sons embrace?
Can it be thought this despicable Brood,
From those great Warriors could derive their Blood,
Who at Thermopylæ such Honours won,
And triumph'd on the Plains of Marathon?