Yet one I know.
Could I the speech of lawgivers assume,
One old and splendid tale I would record,
With which the Muse of Solon in sweet strains
Adorn'd this theme profound, and render'd all
Its darkness, all its terrors, bright as noon,
Or gentle as the golden star of eve. 30
Who knows not Solon,--last, and wisest far,
Of those whom Greece, triumphant in the height
Of glory, styled her fathers,--him whose voice
Through Athens hush'd the storm of civil wrath;
Taught envious Want and cruel Wealth to join
In friendship; and, with sweet compulsion, tamed
Minerva's eager people to his laws,
Which their own goddess in his breast inspired?
'Twas now the time when his heroic task
Seem'd but perform'd in vain; when, soothed by years 40
Of flattering service, the fond multitude
Hung with their sudden counsels on the breath
Of great Pisistratus, that chief renown'd,
Whom Hermes and the Idalian queen had train'd,
Even from his birth, to every powerful art
Of pleasing and persuading; from whose lips
Flow'd eloquence which, like the vows of love,
Could steal away suspicion from the hearts
Of all who listen'd.
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