SELECT POETRY. 
109 
His wanderings have wearied and wasted his wing: 
Ah ! quickly restore him, and let him depart. 
Does he bear the advice of a merchant ? or bring 
To the eyes of gay beauty the voice of the heart ? 
He carries, perchance, the last wish and the prayer 
Of the lorn and the exiled who dies in despair; 
Come, drink of my goblet, poor messenger dove, 
And rest from thy flight on the breast of my love. 
But these words on the missive would seemingly say 
That from Athens it goes to her exiles in France ; 
And its theme must be glory, and therefore we may. 
As protectors and friends, snatch a cursory glance. 
Announcement of happiness ! Athens is free ! 
Fresh laurels, O Greece, shall be planted for thee: 
Come, drink of my goblet, poor messenger dove. 
And rest from thy flight on the breast of my love. 
Let us drink to free Greece ! mark, my charmer, the throng 
Of those demi-gods newly arisen in her clime ! 
Old Europe, in vain, disinherited long 
Her grand epic ancients of mythical time. 
Fair Athens victorious, all glory be thine ! 
For the worship of ruins no longer a shrine ! 
Come, drink of my goblet, poor messenger dove. 
And rest from thy flight on the breast of my love. 
Yes, Athens is free ! Muse of Pindar resume 
Thy sceptre, the lyre, and her loftiest tone; 
Despite the Barbarian, she bursts from her tomb; 
Despite the vain monarchs, her freedom is won. 
And, taught by her fame, let the universe see 
An Athens for ever, O Paris, in thee ! 
Come, drink of my goblet, poor messenger dove, 
And rest from thy flight on the breast of my love. 
Sweet wanderer of Hellas! repose thee, and then 
Fly off to thy turtle, who chides thy delay. 
Soon, missioned from Athens, come braving again 
The tyrants and Vultures that frown on thy way. 
Return from the free, and let Liberty’s tones 
Strike the ears of our kings on their tottering thrones. 
Come, drink of my goblet, poor messenger dove, 
And rest from thy flight on the breast of my love. 
— Athenaeum. 
