The Friend of Greece.
                           Βασιλεως μεγαλου Αρσακου
                              φιλελληνος.
                           
                        
                        Of Arsaces, the great king, the friend of Greece.
                        
                        Inscription on a Parthian coin.
                        
The friend of Greece ! Fair fall the mould1
                        
                        That veiled thy stater’s glittering2
                        
                        So long, to gleam forth now and hold3
                        
                        Our bosoms linked with thine, thou old4
                        
                        Barbaric king !5
                        A thousand thousand such thy mint6
                        
                        Hath fashioned. In thy treasury7
                        
                        The classic stamp and splendid tint8
                        
                        Didst scan well pleased, without a hint9
                        
                        That one should be,10
                        The last retirement of thy name ;11
                        
                        Who didst a despot law enjoin12
                        
                        On slaves, the knee once howed so tame,13
                        
                        Thy equal now, and all thy fame14
                        
                        This little coin ?15
                        Did Ormus bend to thee, and they16
                        
                        Of Colchis ?  Did thy arrow strike17
                        
                        The Indian ?  owned the Scyth thy sway ?18
                        
                        We nothing know, and can but say—19
                        
                        ’Tis very like.20
                        This only know we, did thine blaze21
                        
                        A conqueror’s sword, or not, ’tis rust.22
                        
                        If ever hosts to win thee praise23
                        
                        Contended, then their feet did raise24
                        
                        More lasting dust.25
                        So far apart thy race was run,26
                        
                        Thy very shade half seems to be27
                        
                        The spectre of another sun.28
                        
                        But, Greece !  the word is union29
                        
                        For us and thee.30
                        The friend of Greece ! Then friend wert thou31
                        
                        To sacred Art and all her train,32
                        
                        The marble life, the Picture’s glow,33
                        
                        And Music and the overflow34
                        
                        Of lyric strain.35
                        
The friend of Greece ! Then where of old36
                        
                        Anarchic Licence charioteered37
                        
                        Curbless, and famished Rapine rolled38
                        
                        Forth hordes athirst for blood and gold,39
                        
                        Thou wouldst have reared40
                        The Muse and Pallas shrines secure,41
                        
                        Made Themis awful in her hall,42
                        
                        And life a boon God-worthy, sure,43
                        
                        Exalted, comely, cheerful, pure,44
                        
                        And rhythmical.45
                        The friend of Greece ! Fate should have let46
                        
                        Thee breathe ere yet a Greek could blush47
                        
                        For aught but love or anger ! Set48
                        
                        Her sun for thee, though lingering yet49
                        
                        A heavenly flush.50
                        Yes !  beautiful before thee lay51
                        
                        Inanimate Antiquity.52
                        
                        Too late for life, yet for decay53
                        
                        Too soon, thou view’dst her. We have clay54
                        
                        And memory !55
                        And lips which haply, do we wend56
                        
                        Mid the cold tombs of grace antique57
                        
                        May with Hellenic accents blend58
                        
                        Thy Parthian name, and call thee friend,59
                        
                        Friend of the Greek !60