kai allon
Zachreion anemon, hoite nephea skioenta
Pnoiesin lygyresi diaskidnasin aentes;
Hos Danaoi Troas menon empedon, oud' ephebonto.]

'But they stood, like the clouds which the Son of Kronos stablishes
in calm upon the mountains, motionless, when the rage of the North
and of all the fiery winds is asleep.' As I finished these lines, I
raised my eyes, and looking across the gulf, saw a long line of
clouds resting on the top of its hills. The day was windless, and
there they stayed, hour after hour, without any stir or motion. I
remember how I was delighted at the time, and have often since that
day thought on the beauty and the truthfulness of Homer's simile.

"Perhaps this little fact may interest you, at a time when you are
attacked for your description of clouds.

"I am, sir, yours faithfully,
G. B. HILL."

With this bit of noonday from Homer, I will read you a sunset and a
sunrise from Byron. That will enough express to you the scope and
sweep of all glorious literature, from the orient of Greece herself
to the death of the last Englishman who loved her.[3] I will read
you from 'Sardanapalus' the address of the Chaldean priest Beleses
to the sunset, and of the Greek slave, Myrrha, to the morning.

"The sun goes down: methinks he sets more slowly,
Taking his last look of Assyria's empire.
How red he glares amongst those deepening clouds,[4]
Like the blood he predicts.[5] If not in vain,
Thou sun that sinkest, and ye stars which rise,
I have outwatch'd ye, reading ray by ray
The edicts of your orbs, which make Time tremble
For what he brings the nations, 't is the furthest
Hour of Assyria's years. And yet how calm!
An earthquake should announce so great a fall--
A summer's sun discloses it. Yon disk
To the star-read Chaldean, bears upon
Its everlasting page the end of what
Seem'd everlasting; but oh! thou TRUE sun!
_The burning oracle of all that live_,
_As fountain of all life_, and _symbol of
Him who bestows it_, wherefore dost thou limit
Thy lore unto calamity?[6] Why not
Unfold the rise of days more worthy thine
All-glorious burst from ocean? why not dart
A beam of hope athwart the future years,
As of wrath to its days? Hear me! oh, hear me!
I am thy worshiper, thy priest, thy servant--