more,
The date and narrative are so obscure,
I have to guess some things that should be sure.

I'm puzzled with this history,
And rue that I began the tale;
It seems a kind of mystery--
I'm very much afraid I'll fail,
For want of facts of the sensation kind:
I therefore dwell upon the few I find.

I like voluminous writing best,
That gives the facts dress'd up in style.
A handsome woman when she's dressed
Looks better than (repress that smile)
When she in plainer costume does appear;
The more it costs we know she is more _dear_.

The story is a Grecian one,
The author's name I cannot tell;
Perhaps it was old Xenophon
Or Aristotle, I can't dwell
On trifles; perhaps Plutarch wrote the story:
At any rate its years have made it hoary.

The Greeks were famous in those days
In arts, in letters and in arms;
Quite plain and simple in their ways;
With their own hands they tilled their farms;
Some dressed the vine, some plow'd the ocean's wave;
Some wrote, were orators, or teachers grave.

They were Republicans, in fact;
The Persians might have called them "black
Republicans;" they never lacked
The power to beat a foeman back.
Thermopylae, so famed in Grecian story
Is but another name for martial glory.

A busy hive to work or fight,
Like our New England bold and strong;
A little frantic for the right,
As sternly set against the wrong;
And when for right they drew the sword, we know,
Stopped not to count the number of the foe.

To me it is a painful sight
To see a nation great and good
Reduced to such a sorry plight,
And courtiers crawl where freemen stood,
And king and priests combine to seize the spoil,
While widows weep and beggar'd yeomen toil.

The philosophic mind might dwell
Upon this subject for an age:
The philanthropic heart might swell
Till tears as ink would wet the page;
The mystery, a myst'ry will remain--
The learning of the learned cannot explain.

The Persians were a gaudy race,
Much giv'n to dress and grand display;
I'm grieved to note this is the case
With other people at this day;
And folks are judged of from outside attractions,
Instead of from good sense and genteel actions.

The dame in question was a type
Of all her class; handsome and rich
And proud, of course, and flashing like
A starry constellation, which
She was, in fact a moving mass of light
From jewels which outshone the stars at night.

The tale is somewhat out of joint--