of thy mountain-air;
Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,
Still in his beam Mendeli's marbles glare;
Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still is fair."

CHILDE HAROLD, Canto II.

At Athens, on this his first visit, he made a stay of between two and
three months, not a day of which he let pass without employing some of
its hours in visiting the grand monuments of ancient genius around
him, and calling up the spirit of other times among their ruins. He
made frequently, too, excursions to different parts of Attica; and it
was in one of his visits to Cape Colonna, at this time, that he was
near being seized by a party of Mainotes, who were lying hid in the
caves under the cliff of Minerva Sunias. These pirates, it appears,
were only deterred from attacking him (as a Greek, who was then their
prisoner, informed him afterwards) by a supposition that the two
Albanians, whom they saw attending him, were but part of a complete
guard he had at hand.

In addition to all the magic of its names and scenes, the city of
Minerva possessed another sort of attraction for the poet, to which,
wherever he went, his heart, or rather imagination, was but too
sensible. His pretty song, "Maid of Athens, ere we part," is said to
have been addressed to the eldest daughter of the Greek lady at whose
house he lodged; and that the fair Athenian, when he composed these
verses, may have been the tenant, for the time being, of his fancy, is
highly possible. Theodora Macri, his hostess, was the widow of the
late English vice-consul, and derived a livelihood from letting,
chiefly to English travellers, the apartments which Lord Byron and his
friend now occupied, and of which the latter gentleman gives us the
following description;--"Our lodgings consisted of a sitting-room and
two bed-rooms, opening into a court-yard where there were five or six
lemon-trees, from which, during our residence in the place, was
plucked the fruit that seasoned the pilaf, and other national dishes
served up at our frugal table."

The fame of an illustrious poet is not confined to his own person and
writings, but imparts a share of its splendour to whatever has been,
even remotely, connected with him; and not only ennobles the objects
of his friendships, his loves, and even his likings, but on every spot
where he has sojourned through life, leaves traces of its light that
do not easily pass away. Little did the Maid of Athens, while
listening i