Priestess of Apollo

Take refuge here amid our Delphian shades,

O troubled breast!
Here the most pious of Mycenai's maids

Shall watch thy rest
And wave the cooling laurel o'er thy brow,

Nor insect swarm
Shall ever break thy slumbers, nor shalt thou

Start at the alarm
Of boys infesting (as they do) the street

With mocking songs,
Stopping and importuning all they meet.

And heaping wrongs
Upon thy diadem'd and sacred head,

"Worse than when base
Aegisthus (shudder not!) his toils outspread

Around thy race.
Altho' even in this fane the fitful blast

Thou may'st hear roar.
Thy name among our highest rocks shall last

For evermore.