Iii

Sky everywhere; and sunbeams on all sides; Something about like honey from Hymettus; The lilies grow of marble witherless; Pentele shines, birthgiver of Olympus.

The digging pick on Beauty stumbles still; Cybele's womb bears gods instead of mortals; And Athens bleeds with violet blood abundant Each time the Afternoon's arrows pour on her.

The sacred olive keeps its shrines and fields; And in the midst of crowds that slowly move Like caterpillars on a flower white,

The people of the relics lives and reigns Myriad-souled; and in the dust, the spirit Glitters; I feel it battling in me with Darkness.