Poems Sigourney 1834/Greece
GREECE.
Up, thou New World!—The eye of Greece is dark,
Her glory waneth. When she sat enthroned
On the Acropolis, and heard the lore
Of Pallas echoing through the Academe,
Thou wert a savage with thy hunter bow
And feathery cincture. Now in dust she sits,
Weary and sad of heart. She may not skill to read
Her Father's book. Thou, who from her hast caught
The spirit of Harmodius, and sat down
Low at the feet of Socrates, and soared
High with ethereal Plato, and hast knelt
And thrilled, and wept, and trembled, as the lyre
Of mighty Homer smote thy wondering soul—
Up, pay thy debt. Restore her more than all
The burning alphabet of eloquence
Or the proud language of the arts could teach:
Yea, give the key of knowledge, and with gems
Drawn from the Gospel's everlasting mine,