Here Narcissus, day by day,
Buds in clustering beauty gay:
*****
Here the golden Crocus gleams,
Murmur here unfailing streams,
Sleep the bubbling fountains never,
Feeding pure Cephiseus' river,
Whose prolific waters daily
Bid the pastures blossom gaily,
With the showers of spring-tide blending,
On the lap of earth descending."
Then, after paying a tribute to the olive, a tree peculiarly sacred in Attica, and the especial care of "Morian Jove" and "blue-eyed Pallas," the chorus concludes:—
"Swell the song of praise again;
Other boons demand my strain,
Other blessings we inherit,
Granted by the mighty Spirit;
On the sea and on the shore,
Ours the bridle and the oar.
Son of Saturn old, whose sway
Stormy winds and waves obey,
Thine be honour's well-earned meed,
Tamer of the champing steed;
First he wore on Attic plain
Bit of steel and curbing rein.
Oft too, o'er the waters blue,
Athens, strain thy labouring crew;
Practised hands the bark are plying,
Oars are bending, spray is flying,
Sunny waves beneath them glancing,
Sportive Nereids round them dancing,
With their hundred feet in motion,
Twinkling 'mid the foam of ocean."
The praises lavished on Athenian chivalry are now
