Fair Greece! sad relic of departed Worth! [33.B.]

Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!

Who now shall lead thy scattered children forth,

And long accustomed bondage uncreate?

Not such thy sons who whilome did await,

The helpless warriors of a willing doom,

In bleak Thermopylæ's sepulchral strait—

Oh! who that gallant spirit shall resume,

Leap from Eurotas' banks, and call thee from the tomb?[180]