God of the shouting Thyad train,
Pleased o'er the walls, which thy loved Thebes enclose,
A present guardian to preside,
Where deep Ismenus rolls his tide,
'Midst the fierce race that from the dragon rose !
1130
Thee saw the wild and rocky steep,
1130
Whose forked summits proudly rise,
And stretch their rude brows to the skies,
Where the Corycian Nymphs their orgies keep:
Thee, the flames blazing on the mount:
• Thee, pure Castalia's sacred fount:
Thee, the Nysæan mountain's craggy sides,
O'er which the mantling ivy twines:
The swelling hillocks green with vines,
Whose purple fruit their foliage hides;
1135
And waking harmony's enchanting pow'rs,
1135
Antigone. Sophocles. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1820.