Iii

Now henceforth their shrine is builded, high and vast, Alway drawing noble hearts to noble deeds; In the toil of glory to be, and the tale of glory past: While ever the laughing waves of youth pass over the meads, And the tongue of Hellas is heard, and old Time slumbereth light In the cradle of Peace. O let thy dancing feet Roam in our land and abide, dear Peace, thou child of Right, Giver of happiness, gentle and sweet.

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