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The land-mark to the double tide That purpling rolls on either side,

As if their waters chafed to meet,

Yet pause and crouch beneath her feet.

But could the blood before her shed Since first Timoleon's brother bled, Or baffled Persia's despot fled,

Arise from out the earth which drank

The stream of slaughter as it sank,

That sanguine ocean would o'erflow

Her isthmus idly spread below:

Or could the bones of all the slain,

Who perished there, be piled again,

That rival pyramid would rise

More mountain-like, through those clear skies, Than yon tower-capt Acropolis

Which seems the very clouds to kiss.