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 Descending fast the mountain shadows kiss Thy glorious gulph, unconquer'd Salamis! Their azure arches through the long expanse More deeply purpled meet his mellowing glance, And tenderest tints, along their summits driven, Mark his gay course and own the hues of heaven; Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep, Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep.

On such an eve, his palest beam he cast, When—Athens! here thy wisest look'd his last. How watched thy better sons his farewell ray, That closed their murder'd sage's11 latest day! Not yet—not yet—Sol pauses on the hill— The precious hour of parting lingers still; But sad his light to agonizing eyes, And dark the mountain's once delightful dyes: Gloom o'er the lovely land he seem'd to pour, The land, where Phœbus never frown'd before, But ere he sunk below Cithæron's head, The cup of woe was quaff'd—the spirit fled;