Yon children chasing the wild bees Have lips as full and fair As Plato had, or Sophocles, When bees sought honey there. But song of bard or sage's lore Those fields ennoble now no more: It is not Greece,-it must not be,- And yet, look up,-the land is free! I gazed round Marathon. The plain In peaceful sunshine slept; Eternal Sabbath there her reign Inviolably kept: "Is this the battle-field?" I cried. An eagle from on high replied With shade far cast and clangor shrill "Yes, yes,-'t is Hellas, Hellas still!" |