 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
50
PINDAR.
Ye harp-controlling hymns! triumphant praise,That heralded to his delighted home
The blushing victor of departed days
From Elis, or Nemæa, or the dome
Of sacred Delphi,—spirit-stirring songs,
Ev'n now your echoes linger on mine ears,
And to your Theban father still belongs
That name, time-honour'd twice a thousand years,
King of the sounding lyre: nor alone
For music be thy praise, but for a heart
Strung with affections of deep-thrilling tone
And patriot feelings, that in lightning dart
Through the mute souls of all, with charm'd suspense
Listening in love thy honied eloquence.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |