THE MYRTLE-BOUGH. STILL green, along our sunny shore, As when its fragrant boughs of yore The graves wherein our mighty men Still green it waves! as when the hearth And fearless was the banquet's mirth, And guests, with shining myrtle crowned, Sent the wreathed lyre and wine-cup round. Still green ! as when on holy ground The tyrant's blood was poured : Though earth may shroud Harmodius now, EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, |