And there they drank the wine in graven chalices,
And watched the red fires on the altars leaping.
But now the Gods have long from heaven departed,
And far away from high Olympus wandered;
The way where bright Hyperion's horses thundered
No more is travelled by the ours, light-hearted;
The sea o'er which the swift-winged Hermes darted,
Of all its joyous white-armed nymphs is plundered;
The temples wherein wise Athena pondered
Lie heaped in ruin, dreary and deserted.
Old cities with their fanes of graceful fashion
Have crumbled. Houses now of brick are builded;
And men are filled with low and sordid passion;
And ugly guilt is naught, if only gilded;
And ruby wine, once pure as Hellas' sky,
E'en drugged with logwood, one can scarcely buy.
N. H. D.