XXV.
He, thought-entranced, may wander where of old
From Delphi’s chasm the mystic vapour rose,
And trembling nations heard their doom foretold
By the dread spirit throned midst rocks and snows.
Though its rich fanes be blended with the dust,
And silence now the hallow’d haunt possess,
Still is the scene of ancient rites august,
Magnificent in mountain loneliness;
Still inspiration hovel’s o’er the ground,
Where Greece her councils held,[20] her Pythian victors crown’d.