 | Julia Alpinula |  |
141
II.
Yet with her day of majesty, not allIs wrapt in night's annihilating pall;
Memory and song transmit her patriot's name,
Through years of wrong, and centuries of shame;
Our eye once more upon their pages cast,
Forgets the present and renews the past;
Lit by their ray again, a golden shower
Of sunshine hangs on temple and on tower;
The fluted column burns; in bright relief,
Each statue stands of goddess and of chief;
The olive grows more green; a murmuring sound
Steals the rich shrines and holy mountains round.
All things existent, speak of spirit still,—
The rock, the flower, the ocean, and the hill;
On its blue crag the' Acropolis defies
The strength of time, the lightnings of the skies;
Each field, each wave o'er which the mighty flew,
By fancy tinged with inspiration's hue,
Despite the fallen fane, the people's trance,
Still breathe of power, of passion, and romance.
| Julia Alpinula | |