Clime of the unforgotten brave!
	Whose land, from plain to mountain-cave,
	Was Freedom’s home, or Glory’s grave;
	Shrine of the mighty! can it be,
	That this is all remains of thee?

Byron.    

	The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
	Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
	Where grew the arts of war and peace—
	Where Delos rose, and Phœbus sprung!
	Eternal summer gilds them yet,
	But all, except their sun, is set.

Byron.