Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/409

Rh Whose mingling taste combined to cull the wreath

While Attic flowers Aonian odours breathe,

And all their renovated fragrance flung,

To grace the beauties of your native tongue;

Now let those minds, that nobly could transfuse

The glorious Spirit of the Grecian Muse,

Though soft the echo, scorn a borrowed tone:

Resign Achaia's lyre, and strike your own.

Let these, or such as these, with just applause,

Restore the Muse's violated laws;

But not in flimsy 's pompous chime,

That mighty master of unmeaning rhyme,

Whose gilded cymbals, more adorned than clear,

The eye delighted, but fatigued the ear,