Attica, the heroine, has fallen; where the ancient sons of gods now rest, in the ruins of beautiful marble halls now stands the crane alone and deeply grieving; with a smile fair Spring returns again, but yet he never is able to find his brother there in the holy valley of Ilissus - under the ruins and thorns they are asleep.
I want to cross over into the far country to Alcaeus and to Anacreon, and I would rather sleep in the little house with the holy saints in Marathon; Oh! let these be the last of the many tears that I have shed for my belov�d Greece; Let, o Fates, now let the shears resound, for my heart is already with the dead.
