Such were the patriots who within the porch 270 Of Solon had assembled. But the gate Now opens, and across the ample floor Straight they proceed into an open space Bright with the beams of morn: a verdant spot, Where stands a rural altar, piled with sods Cut from the grassy turf and girt with wreaths, Of branching palm. Here Solon's self they found Clad in a robe of purple pure, and deck'd With leaves of olive on his reverend brow. He bow'd before the altar, and o'er cakes 280 Of barley from two earthen vessels pour'd Of honey and of milk a plenteous stream; Calling meantime the Muses to accept His simple offering, by no victim tinged With blood, nor sullied by destroying fire, But such as for himself Apollo claims In his own Delos, where his favourite haunt Is thence the Altar of the Pious named.
Unseen the guests drew near, and silent view'd That worship; till the hero-priest his eye 290 Turn'd toward a seat on which prepared there lay A branch of laurel. Then his friends confess'd Before him stood. Backward his step he drew, As loath that care or tumult should approach Those early rites divine; but soon their looks, So anxious, and their hands, held forth with such Desponding gesture, bring him on perforce To speak to their affliction. 'Are ye come,' He cried, 'to mourn with me this common shame? Or ask ye some new effort which may break 300 Our fetters? Know then, of the public cause Not for yon traitor's cunning or his might Do I despair; nor could I wish from Jove Aught dearer, than at this late hour of life, As once by laws, so now by strenuous arms, From impious violation to assert The rights our fathers left us. But, alas! What arms? or who shall wield them? Ye beheld The Athenian people. Many bitter days Must pass, and many wounds from cruel pride 310 Be felt, ere yet their partial hearts find room For just resentment, or their hands indure To smite this tyrant brood, so near to all Their hopes, so oft admired, so long beloved. That time will come, however. Be it yours To watch its fair approach, and urge it on With honest prudence; me it ill beseems Again to supplicate the unwilling crowd To rescue from a vile deceiver's hold That envied power, which once with eager zeal 320 They offer'd to myself; nor can I plunge In counsels deep and various, nor prepare For distant wars, thus faltering as I tread On life's last verge, ere long to join the shades Of Minos and Lycurgus. But behold What care employs me now. My vows I pay To the sweet Muses, teachers of my youth And solace of my age. If right I deem Of the still voice that whispers at my heart, The immortal sisters have not quite withdrawn 330 Their old harmonious influence. Let your tongues With sacred silence favour what I speak, And haply shall my faithful lips be taught To unfold celestial counsels, which may arm, As with impenetrable steel your breasts, For the long strife before you, and repel The darts of adverse fate.'--He said, and snatch'd The laurel bough, and sate in silence down, Fix'd, wrapp'd in solemn musing, full before The sun, who now from all his radiant orb 340 Drove the gray clouds, and pour'd his genial light Upon the breast of Solon. Solon raised Aloft the leafy rod, and thus began:--