  When Solon gave to Athens laws, and sought To cleanse it from pollutions and the crimes Which dire disasters from the gods had brought, He called a prophet from the purer clime, Of sunny Crete, great Epimenides, The wise, the nymph-begotten, whose long sleep Had let him into nature’s mysteries, And things that are for common minds too deep: He came, and did the work of bard and priest, That Solon’s code might shine clear as the sun. And what reward?—The people hardly wist But offered riches for the service done. “An olive branch is all I ask,” he said; That branch is green, though Athen’s glory’s dead. |
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