Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth!
Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!
Who now shall lead they scatter'd children forth,
And long accustom'd bondage uncreate?

And yet how lovely in thine age of woe,
Land of lost gods and godlike men! art thou!
The vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow,
Proclaim thee Nature's varied favourite now;
Thy fanes, thy temples to thy surface [bad word] slowly with heroic earth,
Broke by the share of [bad word] plough:
So perish monuments of mortal birth,
So perish all in turn, save well-recorded Worth...

(by G.Byron)