With his wise words; and eyes whose arrowy light
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ad spared in Greece—the blight that cramps and blinds,—And in his olive bower at OenoeHad sate from earliest youth. Like one who finds A fertile island in the barren sea,One mariner who has survived his mates _135Many a drear month in a great ship—so he With soul-sustaining songs, and sweet debatesOf ancient lore, there fed his lonely being:—‘The mind becomes that which it contemplates,’— And thus Zonoras, by for ever seeing _140Their bright creations, grew like wisest men;And when he heard the crash of nations fleeing A bloodier power than ruled thy ruins then,O sacred Hellas! many weary yearsHe wandered, till the path of Laian’s glen _145
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