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Greece! though deserted are thy ports, and all Thy pomp and thy magnificence are shrunk Into a narrow circuit; though thy gates Pour forth no more thy crested sons to war; Though thy capacious theatres resound No longer with the replicated shouts Of multitudes; although Philosophy Is silent 'mid thy porticos and groves; Though Commerce heaves no more the pond'rous load, Or, thund'ring with her thousand cars, imprints Her footsteps on thy rocks; though near thy fanes And marble monuments the peasant's hut Rears its low roof in bitter mockery Of faded splendor yet shalt thou survive, Nor yield till time yields to eternity.
... The Stage arise, and the big Clouds descend; So now, in very Deed, I might behold This pond'rous Globe, and all yen marble Roof, Meet like the Hands of Jove, and crush Mankind. For all the Elements, &c. What he says of the tragedies which end unhappily is, that Euripides was right in preferring them,
"A Falstaff here to-night, by nature made, Lends to your favourite bard his pond'rous aid; No man in buckram he, no stuffing gear! No feather bed, nor e'en a pillow here! But all good honest flesh, and blood, and bone, And weighing, more or less some thirty stone.
When ye, from the iron grasp set free, For your mistress' soft arms, joyously Change your pond'rous mail? Shall my daring hymn, ye gods, resound, While the golden splendor gleams around, Where, by mystic darkness overcome, With the thunderbolt your spleen may play, Or in crime humanity array, Till the grave is dumb? Say! shall peace 'neath crowns be now my theme?
Four lofty watch-towers, to o'ertop the town, They have upreared; Earl Salisbury from on high Casteth abroad his cruel, murd'rous glance, And marks the rapid wanderers in the streets. Thousands of cannon-balls, of pond'rous weight, Are hurled into the city. Churches lie In ruined heaps, and Notre Dame's royal tower Begins at length to bow its lofty head.
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