(From Paradise Regained, Book IV)
LOOK once more, ere we leave this specular mount,
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Westward, much nearer by southwest behold
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Where on the Ægean shore a city stands
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Built nobly, pure the air and light the soil,
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Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts
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And eloquence, native to famous wits
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Or hospitable, in her sweet recess,
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City or surburban, studious walks and shades;
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See there the olive grove of Academe,
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Plato’s retirement, where the Attic bird
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Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long;
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There, flowery hill, Hymettus, with the sound
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Of bees’ industrious murmur, oft invites
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To studious musing; there Ilissus rolls
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His whispering stream: within the walls then view
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The schools of ancient sages; his, who bred
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Great Alexander to subdue the world,
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Lyceum there, and painted Stoa next:
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There shalt thou hear and learn the secret power
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Of harmony, in tones and numbers hit
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By voice or hand, and various-measured verse,
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Æolian charms, and Dorian lyric odes,
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And his who gave them breath, but higher sung,
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Blind Melesigenes, thence Homer called,
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Whose poem Phœbus challenged for his own.
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Thence what the lofty grave tragedians taught
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In chorus or iambic, teachers best
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Of moral prudence, with delight received
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In brief sententious precepts, while they treat
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Of fate, and chance, and change in human life;
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High actions and high passions best describing;
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Thence to the famous orators repair,
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Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence
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Wielded at will that fierce democratie,
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Shook the arsenal, and fulmined over Greece,
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To Macedon and Artaxerxes’ throne.
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