Long, long hast thou lain as in prison, our mother, our goddess, our queen, But lo! to the eastward hath risen a splendor serene, And glorious day follows darkness, the darkness of hundreds of years, Reviving thy corpse from its starkness, with laughter and tears, Ay, tears for the past and its anguish, and laughter for glories to come, For never again wilt thou languish, a bondswoman dumb. The trumpets of triumph are blowing, their clangor swells north from thy south, And jubilant music is flowing anew from thy mouth. Man, dazzled, obedient shall render his homage to thee as of yore, And thou wilt stand forth in thy splendor, a goddess once more. After this introductory chant in unison, the chorus divided in twain, and semi-chorus replied to semi-chorus, in fiery speech and jubilant music, that rang like a pæan through the wide theatre. Ever moving figures, kneeling youths and maidens, soft radiance of sunlight, and triumphant bursts of choral song, while Hellas, serene in her freedom, stands beside tutelary genius, with the light of the glorious future on her face, listening to the eagle flight of liquid words, greeting her as queen of the world. The play being ended, all the lively Greeks streamed out of the theatre, loudly praising the entertainment, and, having had an intellectual feast, now proceeded to the tables set in the open air, which were covered with all kinds of food to satisfy their physical wants. Maurice and the Demarch waited in the theatre alone for the actors, and very shortly Crispin came to see how they liked his play. He received warm congratulations of his success from the two men, while Helena and Caliphronas also received their due meed of praise. The Greek was radiant with self-complacent delight, for his vanity had been much gratified by the approval of the audience, and for the rest of the day he regarded himself as the hero of the hour, quite forgetting both Crispin and Helena in his serene egotism. “I hope I have succeeded in showing your aims clearly, Justinian?” said the poet, as they sat down to a comfortable meal. “You have succeeded admirably, especially in that last chorus. I only hope that all will see the piece is meant for more than the amusement of an hour.” “If you heard how the villagers are talking,” remarked Caliphronas, with a laugh, “I do not think you would have any doubt on that score, for they already regard themselves as the saviours of Hellas, intellectually, physically, and politically.” “Did you intend your genius of Greece for Lord Byron, Crispin?” asked Maurice, who had understood and admired the allegory. “Well, the character was supposed to blend both the god and the poet,” replied Crispin, after a pause; “let us say it was the Olympian incarnate in the body of the Englishman.” “And both the Olympian and Englishman incarnate in a Greek,” said the Demarch graciously.