Last Words on Greece
WHAT are to me those honours or renownPast or to come, a new-born people's cry?Albeit for such I could despise a crownOf aught save laurel, or for such could die.I am a fool of passion, and a frownOf thine to me is as an adder's eye.To the poor bird whose pinion fluttering downWafts unto death the breast it bore so high;Such is this maddening fascination grown,So strong thy magic or so weak am I.
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