| HERE summer reigns with one eternal smile, | |
| Succeeding harvests bless the happy soil; | |
| Fair fertile fields, to whom indulgent Heaven | |
| Has every charm of every season given. | |
| No killing cold deforms the beauteous year, | 5 |
| The springing flowers no coming winter fear. | |
| But as the parent rose decays and dies, | |
| The infant buds with brighter colors rise, | |
| And with fresh sweets the mother’s scent supplies. | |
| Near them the violet grows with odors blest, | 10 |
| And blooms in more than Tyrian purple drest; | |
| The rich jonquils their golden beams display, | |
| And shine in glory’s emulating day; | |
| The peaceful groves their verdant leaves retain, | |
| The streams still murmur, undefiled with rain, | 15 |
| And towering greens adorn the fruitful plain. | |
| The warbling kind uninterrupted sing, | |
| Warmed with enjoyments of perpetual spring. | |
| Here, at my window, I at once survey | |
| The crowded city and resounding sea; | 20 |
| In distant views the Asian mountains rise, | |
| And lose their snowy summits in the skies; | |
| Above these mountains proud Olympus towers, | |
| The parliamental seat of heavenly powers! | |
| New to the sight, my ravished eyes admire | 25 |
| Each gilded crescent and each antique spire, | |
| The marble mosques, beneath whose ample domes | |
| Fierce warlike sultans sleep in peaceful tombs; | |
| Those lofty structures, once the Christians’ boast, | |
| Their names, their beauty, and their honors lost; | 30 |
| Those altars bright with gold and sculpture graced, | |
| By barbarous zeal of savage foes defaced; | |
| Sophia alone her ancient name retains, | |
| Though the unbeliever now her shrine profanes; | |
| Where holy saints have died in sacred cells, | 35 |
| Where monarchs prayed, the frantic dervise dwells. | |
| How art thou fallen, imperial city, low! | |
| Where are thy hopes of Roman glory now? | |
| Where are thy palaces by prelates raised? | |
| Where Grecian artists all their skill displayed, | 40 |
| Before the happy sciences decayed: | |
| So vast, that youthful kings might here reside, | |
| So splendid, to content a patriarch’s pride; | |
| Convents where emperors professed of old, | |
| The labored pillars that their triumphs told; | 45 |
| Vain monuments of them that once were great, | |
| Sunk undistinguished by one common fate; | |
| One little spot the tenure small contains, | |
| Of Greek nobility the poor remains. | |
| Where other Helens, with like powerful charms, | 50 |
| Had once engaged the warring world in arms; | |
| Those names which royal ancestors can boast, | |
| In mean mechanic arts obscurely lost; | |
| Those eyes a second Homer might inspire, | |
| Fixed at the loom, destroy their useless fire; | 55 |
| Grieved at a view, which struck upon my mind | |
| The short-lived vanity of humankind. * * * * * | |
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