Lo, we have many kinds of incense here And hither turn, with thine own matchless grace, THE PARTHENON. BY MRS. HEMANS. FAIR Parthenon! yet still must fancy weep Empires have sunk since thou wert first revered, And varying rites have sanctified thy shrine. The dust is round thee of the race that reared Thy walls; and thou-their fate must soon be thine! But when shall earth again exult to see Visions divine, like theirs, renewed in ought like thee? Lone are thy pillows now-each passing gale Sighs o'er them as a spirit's voice, which moaned That loneliness, and told the plaintive tale Of the bright synod once above them throned. Mourn, graceful ruin! on thy sacred hill. Thy gods, thy rites, a kindred fate have shared: Yet thou art honoured in each fragment still That wasting years and barbarous hands had spared; Each hallowed stone, from rapine's fury borne, Shall wake bright dreams of thee in ages yet unborn. Yes; in these fragments, though by time defaced, And rude insensate conquerors, yet remains All that may charm the enlightened eye of taste, On shores where still inspiring freedom reigns. As vital fragrance breathes from every part Of the crushed myrtle, or the bruised rose, E'en thus the essential energy of Art There in each wreck imperishably glows! The soul of Athens lives in every line, Pervading brightly still the ruins of her shrine. Mark on the storied frieze the graceful train, With many a sacted symbol, move along. The ardent warrior, the benignant sage; The nymph's light symmetry, the chief's proud mien ; Each ray of beauty caught and mingled in the scene. Art, unobtrusive, there ennobles form; Each pure chaste outline exquisitely flows; There, e'en the steed, with bold expression warm, Is clothed with majesty, with being glows. One mighty mind hath harmonized the whole; These varied groups the same bright impress bear; One beam and essence of exalting soul Lives in the grand, the delicate, and fair; And well that pageant of the glorious dead Blends us with nobler days, and loftier spirits fled. O, conquering Genius! that couldst thus retain And when thy hand first gave its wonders birth, The realms that hail them now, scarce claimed a name on earth. Wert thou some spirit of a purer sphere But once beheld, and never to return? No-we may hail again thy bright career, Again on earth a kindred fire shall burn! Though thy least relics, e'en in ruin, bear A stamp of heaven that ne'er hath been renewed A light inherent-let not man despair; Still be hope ardent, patience unsubdued; For still is nature fair, and thought divine, And art hath won a world in models pure as thine. Gaze on yon forms, corroded and defaced- They once were gods and heroes-and beheld Ages have vanished since those hearts were cold. And still those shattered forms retain their godlike mould. 'Midst their bright kindred, from their marble throne, They have looked down on thousand storms of time. Surviving power, and fame, and freedom flown, They still remained, still tranquilly sublime! Till mortal hands the heaven conclave marred. The Olympian groups have sunk, and are forgot; Not e'en their dust could weeping Athens guardBut these were destined to a nobler lot! And they have borne, to light another land, The quenchless ray that soon shall gloriously expand. Phidias! supreme in thought! what hand but thine, In human works thus blending earth and heaven, O'er nature's truth hath shed that grace divine, To mortal form immortal grandeur given? |