Athena! I, whom love did once embolden
To worship in that temple which hath been
The crown of the world,—thy suppliant, O Queen,
Hear me again from this far shore, in olden
Days of thy glory thine. Thou who hast holden
Achilles by the hair, Wisdom serene,
Stand now by King and Counsellors, unseen
As in the dear dim dawn, by song made golden.

Athena! Queen of the Air, maiden divine,—
Of all things on the subject earth, most free,—
Guard with thy sovereign strength the faint new breath
Of freedom drawn in this loved land of thine,
Where for long years in fierce despite of thee
It has been strangled in the arms of death.