ATHENS.
She sits in glory on her eyrie high,Far seen, the Pharos of antiquity;And, through the dusky-woven veil of time,She vents her sun-bright shafts, that pierce and shineLike lightning, from the golden quivers drawnOf high philosophy and Sophoclean song.Around her feet in lucid currents windTwo streams, through marble-paven channels, linedBy temples pillar-propt, whose snowy sheenGlistens like silver through the olive’s green.
She sits in glory on her eyrie high,Far seen, the Pharos of antiquity;And, through the dusky-woven veil of time,She vents her sun-bright shafts, that pierce and shineLike lightning, from the golden quivers drawnOf high philosophy and Sophoclean song.Around her feet in lucid currents windTwo streams, through marble-paven channels, linedBy temples pillar-propt, whose snowy sheenGlistens like silver through the olive’s green.
She sits in glory on her eyrie high,Far seen, the Pharos of antiquity;And, through the dusky-woven veil of time,She vents her sun-bright shafts, that pierce and shineLike lightning, from the golden quivers drawnOf high philosophy and Sophoclean song.Around her feet in lucid currents windTwo streams, through marble-paven channels, linedBy temples pillar-propt, whose snowy sheenGlistens like silver through the olive’s green.
She sits in glory on her eyrie high,
Far seen, the Pharos of antiquity;
And, through the dusky-woven veil of time,
She vents her sun-bright shafts, that pierce and shine
Like lightning, from the golden quivers drawn
Of high philosophy and Sophoclean song.
Around her feet in lucid currents wind
Two streams, through marble-paven channels, lined
By temples pillar-propt, whose snowy sheen
Glistens like silver through the olive’s green.