Page:Sophocles (Storr 1912) v1.djvu/237



The spot by no mortal footstep trod,

The pleasance kept for the Bacchic god,

Where he holds each night his revels wild

With the nymphs who fostered the lusty child.

And fed each morn by the pearly dew

The starred narcissi shine,

And a wreath with the crocus’ golden hue

For the Mother and Daughter twine.

And never the sleepless fountains cease

That feed Cephisus’ stream,

But they swell earth’s bosom with quick increase,

And their wave hath a crystal gleam.

And the Muses’ quire will never disdain

To visit this heaven-favoured plain,

Nor the Cyprian queen of the golden rein.

And here there grows, unpruned, untamed,

Terror to foemen’s spear,

A tree in Asian soil unnamed,

By Pelops’ Dorian isle unclaimed,

Self-nurtured year by year;

’Tis the grey-leaved olive that feeds our boys;

Nor youth nor withering age destroys

The plant that the Olive Planter tends

And the Grey-eyed Goddess herself defends.

215