Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 1.djvu/211

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195

Amid the jarring crowd, an unfit man
To mingle with the world; still, still my heart
Sighed for your sanctuary, and inly pined;
And loathing human converse, I have strayed
Where o'er the sea-beach chilly howl'd the blast,
And gaz'd upon the world of waves, and wished
That I were far beyond the Atlantic deep,
In woodland haunts, a sojourner with Peace.

Not idly fabled they the Bards inspired,
Who peopled Earth with Deities. They trod
The wood with reverence where the Dryads dwelt;
At day's dim dawn or evening's misty hour
They saw the Oreads on their mountain haunts,
And felt their holy influence, nor impure
Of thought, or ever with polluted hands[1]



  1. Μηδε ποτ᾽ αεναων ποταμων χαλλιρροον υδωρ
    Ποσσι περαν πριν γ ευξη ιρων ες καλα ρεεθρα,
    Χειρας νιψαμενος πολυηρατω υὄατι λευκω.
    Ος ποταμον διαξη κακοτητι δε χειρας ανιπτος,
    Τωδε θεοι νεμεσωσι, και αλγεα δωκαν οπισσω.
    ΗΣΙΟΔΟΣ.