Of this land of chivalry Thou the garden here dost see, White Colonus, in whose glade, Underneath the greenwood shade, Her loved haunt, the nightingale Poureth oft her luscious wail. Glossy-dark the ivy creeps; Flourishes along the steeps With berries store, scorched by no ray, Rent by no storm, the sacred bay. Here loves the jolly god to rove With merry nymphs that round him move. Here many a flower, heaven-watered, blows, Worthy to bind immortal brows. Narcissus waves its clusters gay, And crocus gleams with golden ray. Nor do the springs that feed thy flow, Cephisus, intermission know: Day after day their crystal stream Makes the rich loam with plenty teem. Nor do the muses keep afar, Nor Aphrodite's golden car. Here grows, what neither Asia's coast Nor Pelops' Dorian Isle can boast, The tree that Nature's bounty rears, The tree that mocks the foeman's spears, That nowhere blooms so fair and free And rich--our own grey olive tree, Of which no chieftain, old or young, Shall rob the land from which it sprung. Blue-eyed Athene is its guard, And Morian Zeus its sleepless ward. And loftier still the note of praise That by the grace of heaven we raise To this our motherland, for she Is Queen of steeds, Queen of the sea. Poseidon, son of Saturn, thou Didst set this crown upon her brow, When first upon Athenian course Thou taughtst to curb the fiery horse. The dashing oar our seamen ply, Light o'er the wave our galleys fly, Keeping the sea-nymphs company. * * * * * _LENGTH OF DAYS_. LINES 1211-1238. CHORUS. Little wisdom hath the man That would over-live his span. Length of days brings many a moan When life's prime is past and gone; But of pleasures, never a one. Then all alike from dole to save, Comes the dark and cheerless grave. Not to be is happiest; Next with speed to part is best. Bloodshed, battle, hatred, strife, Youth with all these ills is rife. Then comes the last, the dreariest stage, Sour, companionless old age. * * * * * _THE END OF OEDIPUS_. LINES 1579-1667. MESSENGER. (_To the_ CHORUS.) Brief is the speech, my fellow-citizens, Needed to tell that Oedipus is dead; But a brief speech will not suffice to give A full account of all that there befell. CHORUS. His life of sorrow then has found its end. MESSENGER. He is where he will never sorrow more. CHORUS. Died he by act of heaven and painlessly? MESSENGER.