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LEWESDON HILL
A POEM.
Χαιρ' ω ῶεδον αγχιαλον,
Και μ' ευπλοιᾳ ῶεμψον αμεμπτως
Ενθ' ἡ μεγαλη μοιρα κομιζει,
χῳ ῶανδαματωρ
Δαιμων, ος ταυτ' επεκρανεν.
Soph.
Και μ' ευπλοιᾳ ῶεμψον αμεμπτως
Ενθ' ἡ μεγαλη μοιρα κομιζει,
χῳ ῶανδαματωρ
Δαιμων, ος ταυτ' επεκρανεν.
Soph.
Farewell thy printless sands and pebbly shore!
I hear the white surge beat thy coast no more,
Pure, gentle source of the high, rapturous mood!———
———Where'er, like the great Flood, by thy dread force
Propell'd—shape Thou my calm, my blameless course,
Heaven, Earth, and Ocean's Lord!—and Father of the Good!
***
I hear the white surge beat thy coast no more,
Pure, gentle source of the high, rapturous mood!———
———Where'er, like the great Flood, by thy dread force
Propell'd—shape Thou my calm, my blameless course,
Heaven, Earth, and Ocean's Lord!—and Father of the Good!
***
OXFORD:
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS, MDCCLXXXVIII.
SOLD BY D. PRINCE AND J. COOKE, OXFORD:
J. F. AND C. RIVINGTON,
T. CADELL, AND R. FAULDER, LONDON.