SON OF THE LIGHTNING, FAIR AND FIERY STAR, STRONG-WINGED IMPERIAL PINDAR, VOICE DIVINE, LET THESE DEEP DRAUGHTS OF THY ENCHANTED WINE LIFT ME WITH THEE IN SOARINGS HIGH AND FAR PROUDER THAN PEGASEAN, OR THE CAR WHEREIN APOLLO RAPT THE HUNTRESS MAID. SO LET ME RANGE MINE HOUR, TOO SOON TO FADE INTO STRANGE PRESENCE OF THE THINGS THAT ARE. YET KNOW THAT EVEN AMID THIS JARRING NOISE OF HATES, LOVES, CREEDS, TOGETHER HEAPED AND HURLED, SOME ECHO FAINT OF GRACE AND GRANDEUR STIRS FROM THY SWEET HELLAS, HOME OF NOBLE JOYS. FIRST FRUIT AND BEST OF ALL OUR WESTERN WORLD; WHATE'ER WE HOLD OF BEAUTY, HALF IS HERS. Probably no poet of importance equal or approaching to that o…
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