Pericles and Aspasia

This was the ruler of the land,
When Athens was the land of fame;
This was the light that led the band,
When each was like a living flame:
The centre of earth's noblest ring,
Of more than men, the more than king!

Yet, not by fetter, nor by spear,
His sovereignty was held or won;
Fear'd — but alone as freemen fear;
Loved — but as freemen love alone:
He waved the sceptre o'er his kind,
By Nature's first great title — mind!

Resistless words were on his tongue;
Then eloquence first flash'd below!
Full arm'd to life the portent sprung,
Minerva, from the Thunderer's brow!
And his the sole, the sacred hand,
That shook her ægis o'er the land!

And throned immortal, by his side,
A woman sits, with eye sublime —
Aspasia, all his spirit's bride;
But if their solemn love were crime,
Pity the beauty and the sage;
Their crime was in their darken'd age.

He perish'd — but his wreath was won —
He perish'd on his height of fame!
Then sank the cloud on Athens' sun;
Yet still she conquer'd in his name.
Fill'd with his soul, she could not die;
Her conquest was Posterity!