Where'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground;

No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould,

But one vast realm of Wonder spreads around,

And all the Muse's tales seem truly told,

Till the sense aches with gazing to behold

The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon;

Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold

Defies the power which crushed thy temples gone:

Age shakes Athenæ's tower, but spares gray Marathon.[195]