Where Thracia's snow-capped mountains rise
Above her pastures fair:
Where Mysians feared in battle-fray,
With far-famed Hippemolgians stray,
A race remote from care,
Unstained by fraud, unstained by blood,
The milk of mares their simple food.
Thither his sight the God inclines,
Nor turns to view the shifting lines
Commix'd in fight afar:
He deemed not, he, that heavenly might
Would swell the bands of either fight,
When he forbade the war.


2.

Not so the Monarch of the Deep:
On Samothracia's topmast steep
The great Earth-shaker stood,
Whose cloudy summit viewed afar
The crowded tents, the mingling war,
The navy dancing on the tide,
The leaguered town, the hills of Ide,
And all the scene of blood.
There stood he, and with grief surveyed
His Greeks by adverse force outweighed:
He bann'd the Thunderer's partial will,
And hastened down the craggy hill.