Me—Lycia nursed amid her blaze of day;
Me long, on strengthening plume I winged my way
To every peak around her mountain coast,
But o'er Phoenicus loved to hover most;
And watch, at eve, the ever-burning flame,
That from his storied summit quivering came
Or stooped to scan, amid the valleys lone,
Once famous cities, now but fabling stone.
At last to earth down circling, all too nigh,
Chimæra's birth place, Cragus, saw me die.—
What here remains was borne, on British prow,
By Xanthian Pilgrim—home. I serve him now.
