Tanagra! think not I forget Thy beautifully storied streets; Be sure my memory bathes yet In clear Thermodon, and yet greets The blithe and liberal shepherd-boy, Whose sunny bosom swells with joy When we accept his matted rushes Upheav'd with sylvan fruit; away he bounds, and blushes. A gift I promise: one I see Which thou with transport wilt receive, The only proper gift for thee, Of which no mortal shall bereave In later times thy mouldering walls, Until the last old turret falls; A crown, a crown from Athens won, A crown no god can wear, beside Latona's son. There may be cities who refuse To their own child the honours due, And look ungently on the Muse; But ever shall those cities rue The dry, unyielding, niggard breast, Offering no nourishment, no rest, To that young head which soon shall rise Disdainfully, in might and glory, to the skies. Sweetly where cavern'd Dirce flows Do white-arm'd maidens chaunt my lay, Flapping the while with laurel-rose The honey-gathering tribes away; And sweetly, sweetly Attic tongues Lisp your Corinna's early songs; To her with feet more graceful come The verses that have dwelt in kindred breasts at home. O let thy children lean aslant Against the tender mother's knee, And gaze into her face, and want To know what magic there can be In words that urge some eyes to dance, While others as in holy trance Look up to heaven: be such my praise! Why linger? I must haste, or lose the Delphic bays. [Footnote 1: The Works of Lucian of Samosata: translated by H. W. Fowler and F. G. Fowler (Introduction, p. xxix). Oxford, Clarendon Press.] [Footnote 2: "The Training of the Imagination": by James Rhoades. London, John Lane, 1900.] [Footnote 3: Landor: "AEsop and Rhodope."] LECTURE VIII ON READING THE BIBLE (I) WEDNESDAY, MARCH 6, 1918 I