How oft hath war his host of spoilers pour’d, Fair Elis! o’er thy consecrated vales?[42] There have the sunbeams glanced on spear and sword, And banners floated on the balmy gales. Once didst thou smile, secure in sanctitude, As some enchanted isle mid stormy seas; On thee no hostile footstep might intrude, And pastoral sounds alone were on thy breeze. Forsaken home of peace! that spell is broke: Thou too hast heard the storm, and bow’d beneath the yoke. LXIX. And through Arcadia’s wild and lone retreats Far other sounds have echo’d than the strain Of faun and dryad, from their woodland seats, Or ancient reed of peaceful mountain-swain! There, though at times Alpheus yet surveys, On his green banks renew’d, the classic dance, And nymph-like forms, and wild melodious lays, Revive the sylvan scenes of old romance; Yet brooding fear and dark suspicion dwell Midst Pan’s deserted haunts, by fountain, cave, and dell. LXX. But thou, fair Attica! whose rocky bound All art and nature’s richest gifts enshrined, Thou little sphere, whose soul-illumined round Concentrated each sunbeam of the mind; Who, as the summit of some Alpine height Glows earliest, latest, with the blush of day, Didst first imbibe the splendours of the light,[43] And smile the longest in its lingering ray; Oh! let us gaze on thee, and fondly deem The past awhile restored, the present but a dream. LXXI. Let Fancy’s vivid hues awhile prevail-- Wake at her call--be all thou wert once more! Hark! hymns of triumph swell on every gale-- Lo! bright processions move along thy shore; Again thy temples, midst the olive-shade, Lovely in chaste simplicity arise; And graceful monuments, in grove and glade, Catch the warm tints of thy resplendent skies; And sculptured forms, of high and heavenly mien, In their calm beauty smile around the sun-bright scene. LXXII. Again renew’d by Thought’s creative spells, In all her pomp thy city, Theseus! towers: Within, around, the light of glory dwells On art’s fair fabrics, wisdom’s holy bowers. There marble fanes in finish’d grace ascend, The pencil’s world of life and beauty glows; Shrines, pillars, porticoes, in grandeur blend, Rich with the trophies of barbaric foes; And groves of platane wave in verdant pride, The sage’s blest retreats, by calm Ilissus’ tide. LXXIII.