Chios
Nicholas Michell
Soft Chios, too, the Paradise of vines,
Where blooms the fig, the golden citron shines,
Whose rocks are clothed with myrtles, and whose vales
Are full of streams, gay flowers, and nightingales, —
Chios with no fine wreck the eye beguiles,
Gone are her tombs, and fair Ionic piles:
Yet what may thrill the heart like Homer's cave,
The haunted grot beside the sounding wave?
Where the blind bard his harp at eve-tide rung,
Or 'mid the storm his wilder battles sung,
Gave to eternal fame the Trojan shore,
And charmed the admiring world for evermore.
Author's note: Of the seven cities, or districts, which disputed the right to be called the birth-place of Homer, Chios, the modern Scio, now seems by tacit consent to be permitted to enjoy the coveted honour.
