Mount Parnassus

The green pines bending o'er thy mossy rocks,
The fearful hollows cleft by earthquake-shocks;
Torrents that leap and gush through laurel bowers,
Or fall from crag to crag, in diamond showers;
Groves half way up by sky-born breezes fann'd,
Where ripening clusters tempt the traveler's hand;
Thy peak of snow so purely, softly bright,
To gain whose summit tasks the eagle's flight,
Where he may sit, his weary journey done,
Behold half Greece, and gaze upon the sun —
Oh! these, Parnassus! know no dark decay,
These, Nature's glories, have not passed away!
Famed mount ! that bards have hailed in every age,
And myriads sought in hopeful pilgrimage!
Dear art thou to youth's dreams, a haunted scene,
In beauty wild, in majesty serene.
Thy darkly-waving wood, and murmuring spring,
A thousand rich and classic memories bring;
And precious relics, hallowing still the spot,
Live on thy side, and gleam in bower and grot.
Where'er we turn, remains of ancient shrines
Peep through brown moss, or lie 'neath mantling vines
Caves hewn from rock the fretted niche display,
And prostrate pillars choke the tangled way;
By Castri's huts theatric henches sweep,
Where Greeks no more, but owls their revels keep,
While thorns conceal the Muses' sparry bower,
The robbers haunt at evening's shadowy hour.