 | Lyrical Poems |  |
257
FROM SIMONIDES
There is a song,
That on high rocks, bright, inaccessible,
Girt with the circling dance, her holy throng,
Doth Virtue dwell:—
Nor on that throne
Seen of all human kind: by him alone,
Heart-pierced in soul-corroding toil, and so
To height of perfect Manhood climbing slow:
—By him alone.
That on high rocks, bright, inaccessible,
Girt with the circling dance, her holy throng,
Doth Virtue dwell:—
Nor on that throne
Seen of all human kind: by him alone,
Heart-pierced in soul-corroding toil, and so
To height of perfect Manhood climbing slow:
—By him alone.
| Lyrical Poems | |