Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 1.djvu/211

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195

Amid the jarring crowd, an unfit manTo mingle with the world; still, still my heartSighed for your sanctuary, and inly pined;And loathing human converse, I have strayedWhere o'er the sea-beach chilly howl'd the blast,And gaz'd upon the world of waves, and wishedThat I were far beyond the Atlantic deep,In woodland haunts, a sojourner with Peace.
Not idly fabled they the Bards inspired,Who peopled Earth with Deities. They trodThe wood with reverence where the Dryads dwelt;At day's dim dawn or evening's misty hourThey saw the Oreads on their mountain haunts,And felt their holy influence, nor impureOf thought, or ever with polluted hands[1]
  1. ↑
    Μηδε ποτ᾽ αεναων ποταμων χαλλιρροον υδωρΠοσσι περαν πριν γ ευξη ιρων ες καλα ρεεθρα,Χειρας νιψαμενος πολυηρατω υὄατι λευκω.Ος ποταμον διαξη κακοτητι δε χειρας ανιπτος,Τωδε θεοι νεμεσωσι, και αλγεα δωκαν οπισσω.ΗΣΙΟΔΟΣ.
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