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Shall the sons of Chimari, who never forgive | Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! The fault of a friend, bid an enemy live? Immortal, though no more; though fallen, Let those guns so unerring such vengeance
great! forego ?
Who now shall lead thy scatter'd children What mark vo fair as the breast of a foe?
And long accustom'd bondage uncreate ? Macedonia sends forth her invincible race; Not such thy sons who whilome did await, For a time they abandon the cave and the The hopeless warriors of a willing doom,
In bleak Thermopylæ's sepalchral straitBut those scarfs of blood-red shall be red- Oh! who that gallant spirit shall resume,
der, before Leap from Eurota's banks, and call thee from The sabre is sheathed and the battle is o'er.
the tomb ?
Then the pirates of Parga that dwell by Spirit of freedom! when on Phyle's brow
Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train, And teach the pale Franks what it is to be Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which
slaves, Shall leave on the beach the long galley Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain?
Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain, And track to his covert the captive on shore. But every carle can lord it o'er thy land;
Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain, I ask not the pleasures that riches supply, Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish My sabre shall win what the feeble must
From birth till death enslaved ; in word, in Shall win the young bride with her long
deed unmann'd. flowing hair, And many a maid from her mother shall In all, save form alone, how changed! and who
eye, I love the fair face of the maid in her youth, Who but would deem their bosoms burn'd Her caresses shall lull me, her music shall
With thy unquenched beam, lost Liberty! Let her bring from her chamber her many- And many dream withal the hour is nigh
toned lyre, That gives them back their fathers' heritage: And sing us a song on the fall of her sire. For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh,
Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage, Remember the moment when Previsa fell, Or tear their name defiled from Slavery's The shrieks of the conquer'd, the conquer
mournful page. ors' yell; The roofs that we fired, and the plunder Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not
we shared, Who would be free themselves must strike The wealthy we slaughter'd, the lovely we
the blow? spared. By their right arms the conquest inust be
wrought? I talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear; Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? no! He neither must know who would serve the True, they may lay your proud despoilers Vizier:
low, Since the days of our prophet the Crescent But not for you will Freedom's altars flame.
Shades of the Helots! triumph o'er your foe! A chief ever glorious like Ali Pashaw. Greece! change thy lords, thy state is still
the same: Dark Muchtar his son to the Danube is sped, Thy glorious day is o’er, but not thine years Let the yellow-hairdGiaours view his horse
of shame. tail with dread; When his Delhis come dashing in blood The city won for Allah from the Giaour,
o'er the banks, The Giaour from Othman's race again may How few shall escape from the Muscovite
And the Serai's impenetrable tower
Receive the fiery Frank, her former gnest; Selictar! unsheathe then our chief's scimitar: Or Wahab's rebel brood who dared divest Tambourgi! thy 'larum gives promise of The prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil,
May wind their path of blood along the West; Ye mountains, that see us descend to the But ne'er will freedom seek this fated soil,
But slave succeed to slave through years of Shall view us as victors, or view us no more!
Yet mark their mirth-ere lenten days begin, How do they loathe the laughter idly loud, That penance which their holy rites prepare And long to change the robe of revel for To shrive from man his weight of mortal sin,
the shroud! By daily abstinence and nightly prayer; But ere his sackcloth garb Repentance wear, This must he feel,the true-borkain ofGreece, Some days of joyaunce are decreed to all, If Greece one true-born patriot still can To take of pleasaunce each his secret share,
boast: In motley robe to dance at masking ball, Not such as prate of war,
but skulk in peace, And join the mimic train of merry Carnival. The bondman's peace, who sighs for all he And whose more rife with merriment than Yet with smooth smile his tyrant can accost,
And wield the slavish sickle, not the sword: Oh Stamboul! once the empress of their Ah! Greece! they love thee least who owe reign?
thee most; Though turbans now pollute Sophia's shrine, Their birth, their blood, and that sublime And Greece her very altars eyes in vain : (Alas! her woes will still pervade my strain!) Of hero-sires, who shame thy now degenGay were her minstrels once, for free her
erate horde ! hrong, All felt the common joy they now must feign, When riseth Lacedemon's hardihood, Nor oft I've seen such sight, nor heard such When Thebes Epaminondas rears again,
When Athens' children are with hearts As woo'd the eye, and thrillid the Bospho
endued, rus along When Grecian mothers shall give birth to
men, Loud was the lightsome tumult of the shore, Then may'st thou be restored; but not till Oft Music changed , but never ceased her
A thousand years scarce serve to form a state; And timely echoed back the measured oar, An hour may lay it in the dust: and when And rippling waters made a pleasant moan: Can man its shatter'd splendour renovate, The Queen of tides on high consenting Recall its virtues back, and vanquish Time shone,
and Fate ? And when a transient breeze swept o'er
And yet how lovely in thine age of woe, 'Twas, as if darting from her heavenly Land of lost gods and godlike men! art thou!
Thy vales of ever-green, thy hills of snow A brighter glance her form reflected gave, Proclaim theeNature's varied favourite now: Till sparkling billows seem'd to light the Thy fanes, thy temples to thy surface bow,
banks they lave. Commingling slowly with heroic earth,
Broke by the share of every rustic plough: Glanced many a light caique along the foam, So perish monuments of mortal birth, Danced on the shore the daughters of the So perish all in turn, save well-recorded
Worth; Ne thought had man or maid of rest or home, While many a languid eye and thrilling Save where some solitary column mourns
Above its prostrate brethren of the cave: Exchanged the look few bosoms may Save where Tritonia's airy shrine adorns
withstand, Colonna's cliff, and gleams along the wave; Or gently prest, return'd the pressure still: Save o'er some warrior's hali - forgotten Oh Love young Love! bound in thy rosy
Where the gray stones and unmolested grass Let sage or cynic prattle as he will, Ages, but not oblivion, feebly brave, These hours, and only these, redeem Life's While strangers only not regardless pass,
Lingering like me, perchance, to gaze, and
sigh * Alas! " But, midst the throng in merry masquerade, Lurk there no hearts that throb with secret Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild;
Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy Even through the closest searment half
fields, betray'd ? Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled, To such the gentle murmurs of the main And still his honied wealth Hymettus yields; Seem to re-echo all they mourn in vain ; There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress To such the gladness of the gamesome crowd
builds, Is source of wayward thought and stern The freeborn wanderer ofthy mountain-air;
Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,
years of ill!
Still in his beam Mendeli's marbles glare; And scarce regret the region of his birth, Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still When wandering slow by Delphi's sacred is fair.
Or gazing o'er the plains where Greek and Where'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground;
Persian died. No carth of thine is lost in vulgar mould, But one vast realm of Wonder spreads around, Let such approach this consecrated land, And all the Muse's tales seem truly told, And pass in peace along the magic waste : Till the sense aches with gazing to behold But spare its relics--let no busy hand The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt Deface the scenes, already how defaced !
Not for such purpose were these altars placed: Each hill and dale, each deepening glen Revere the remnants nations once revered :
So may our country's name be undisgraced, Defies the power which crush'd thy temples So may'st thou prosper where thy youth gone:
was rear'd , Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray By every honest joy of love and life enMarathon.
The sun, the soil, but not the slave,the same; For thee, who thus in too protracted song Unchanged in all except its foreign lord – Hast soothed thine idlesse with inglorious Preserves alike its bounds and boundless
Soon shall thy voice be lost amid the throng TheBattle-field, wherePersia's victim horde of louder minstrels in these later days : First bow'd beneath the brunt of Hellas' To such resign the strife for fading bays
III may such contest now the spirit move As on the morn to distant Glory dear, Which heeds nor keen reproach nor partial When Marathon became a magic word;
praise; Which utter'd, to the hearer's eye appear Since cold cach kinder heart that might The camp, the host, the fight, the conquer
approve, or's career, And none are left to please when none are.
left to love. The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow; The fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear; | Thou too art igone, thou loved and lovely Mountains above, Earth's, Ocean's plain
Whom youth and youth's affection bound Death in the front, Destruction in the rear!
to me; Such was the scene--what now remaineth Who did for me what none beside have done,
Nor shrank from one albeit unworthy thee. What sacred tropby marks the hallowd What is my being ? thou hast ceased to be!
Nor staid to welcome here thy wanderer Recording Freedom's smile and Asia's tear?
home, The rifled urn, the violated mound, Who mourns o'er hours which we no more The dust thy courser's hoof, rude stranger!
shall see Would they had never been, or were to come!
Would he had ne'er return'd to find fresh Yet to the remnants of thy splendour past
cause to roam ! Shall pilgrims, pensive, but unwearied,
Oh! ever loving, lovely, and beloved ! Long shall the yoyager, with th’lonian blast, How selfish Sorrow ponders on the past, Hail the bright clime of battle and of song; And clings to thoughts now better far reLong shall thine annals and immortal tongue
moved ! Fill with thy fame the youth of many a ButTime shall tear thy shadow from me last.
All thou could'st have of mine, stern Death! Boast of the aged ! lesson of the yonng!
thou hast; Which sages venerate and bards adore, The parent, friend, and now the more than As Pallas and the Muse unveil their awful
friend : lore.
Ne'er yet for one thine arrows flew so fast,
And grief with grief continuing still to blend, The parted bosom clinge to wonted home, Hath snatch'd the little joy that life had If aught that's kindred cheer the welcome
yet to lend. hearth; He that is lonely hither let him roam, Then must I plunge again into the crowd, And gaze complacent on congenial earth. And follow all that Peace disdains to seek? Greece is no lightsome land of social mirth; Where Revel calls, and Langhter, vainly But he whom Sadness sootheth may abide,
False to the heart, distorts the hollow cheek, | The furrows of long thought, and dried-up
O'er which all heavily the journeying years To feign the pleasure or conceal the pique, Plod the last sands of life, where not a Smiles form the channel of a future tear,
flower appears. Or raise the writhing lip with ill-dissembled
Since my young days of passion-joy,or pain,
Perchance my heart and harp have lost a What is the worst of woes that wait on age ?
string, What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the And both may jar: it may be, that in vain
I would essay as I have sung to sing. To view each loved one blotted from life's Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling;
So that it wean me from the weary dream And be alone on earth, as I am now. Of selfish grief or gladness—so it fling Before the Chastener humbly let ine bow, Forgetfulness around me--it shall seem O'er hearts divided and o'er hopes destroy'd: To me, though to none else, a not ungrateRoll on, vaiu days! full reckless may ye flow,
He, who grown aged in this world of woe, And with the ills of Eld mine earlier years In deeds,not years, piercing the depths of life,
So that no wonder waits him; nor below
With airy images, and shapes which dwell
Still unimpair'd, though old, in the soul's “* Afin que cette application vous forçat de pen
haunted cell. ser à autre chose; il n'y a en vérité de remède que celui-là et le temps." Lettre du Roi de Prusse à d' Alembert, Tis to create, and in creating live Sept. 1, 1176.
A being more intense, that we endow
With form our fancy, gaining as we give Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child! The life we image, even as I do now. Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart? What am I? Nothing; but not so art thou, When last I saw. thy young blue eyes they Soul of my thought! with whom I traverse
smiled, And then we parted,—not as now we part, Invisible but gazing, as I glow But with a hope.
Mix'd with thy spirit, blended with thy birth, Awaking with a start, And feeling still with thee in my crush'd The waters heave around me; and on high
feelings' dearth. The winds lift up their voices: I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by, Yet must I think less wildly:-I have thought When Albion's lessening shores could grieve Too long and darkly, till my brain became,
or glad mine eye. In its own eddy boiling and o’erwrought,
A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame : Once more upon the waters ! yet once more! And thus, untaught in youth my heart to And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
tame, That knows his rider. Welcome, to their My springs of life were poison'd. 'Tis too roar!
Jate! Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead! Yet am I changed; though still enough the Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a
In strength to bear what time can not abate, And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale, And feed on bitter fruits without accusing Still must I on; for I am as a weed,
Fate. Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail Where-e'er the surge may sweep, the tem- Something too much of this:—but now 'tis pest's breath prevail.
And the spell closes with its silent seal. In my youth's summer I did sing of One, Long absent Harold re-appears at last; The wandering outlaw of his own dark mind; He of the breast which fain no more would Again I seize the theme then but begun,
feel, And bear it with me, as the rushing wind Wrung with the wounds, which kill not 'but Bears the cloud onwards : in that Tale I find
Yet Time, who changes all, had alter'd him / Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, ex-
Were unto him companionship; they wpake
A mutual language, clearer than the tome His had been quaff?d too quickly, and he Of his land's tongue, which he would oft found
forsake The dregs were wormwood; but he filla For Nature's pages glass'd by sunbeams on again,
the lake. And from a purer fount, on holier ground, And deem'd its spring perpetual; but in vain! Like the Chaldean, he could watch the stars, Still round him clung invisibly a chain Till he had peopled them with beings bright Which galld for ever, fettering though un- As their own beams; and earth, and earthseen,
born jars, And heavy though it clank'd not; worn And human frailties, were forgotten quite:
Could he have kept his spirit to that flight Which pined although it spoke not, and He had been happy; but this clay will sink
Its spark immortal, envying it the light Entering with every step he took, through To which it mounts, as if to break the link many a scene. That keeps us from yon heaven which woos
us to its brink. Secure in guarded coldness, he had mix’d Again in fancied safety with his kind, But in Man's dwellings he became a thing And deem'd his spirit now so firmly fix'd Restless and worn, and stern and wearisome, And sheathed with an invulnerable mind, Droop'd as a wild-born falcon with clipt That, if no joy, no sorrow lurk'd behind';
wing, And he, as one, might midst the many stand To whom the boundless air alone were home: Unheeded, searching through the crowd to Then came his fit again, which to o'ercome,
As eagerly the barr'd-up bird will beat Fit speculation! such as in strange land His breast and beak against his wiry dome He found in wonder-works of God and Till the blood tinge his plumage, so the heat Nature's hand. Of his impeded soul would through his
bosom eat. But who can view the ripen'd rose, nor seek To wear it? who can curiously behold Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again, The smoothness and the sheen of beauty's With nought of hope left, but with less
of gloom; Nor feel the heart can never all grow old? The very knowledge that he lived in vain, Who can contemplate Fame through clouds That all was over on this side the tomb,
Had made Despair a smilingness assume, The star which rises o'er her steep,nor climb? Which, though 'twere wild , - as on the Harold, once more within the vortex rollid
plunder'd wreck On with the giddy circle, chasing Time, When mariners would madly meet their Yet with a nobler aim than in his youth's
doom fond prime. With draughts intemperate on the sinking
deck, But soon he knew himself the most unfit Did yet inspire a cheer, which he forbore Of men to herd with Man ; with whom he
to check. held Little in common; untaught to submit Stop !—for thy tread is on an Empire's dust! His thoughts to others, though his soul An Earthquake's spoil is sepulchred below!
was quella Is the spot mark'd with no colossal bust? In youth by his own thoughts; still uncom- Nor column trophied for triumphal show?
None ; but the moral's truth tells simpler so, He would not yield dominion of his mind As the ground was before, thus let it be ;To spirits against whom his own rebell’d; How that red rain hath made the harvest Proud thongh in desolation ; which could
And is this all the world has gain’d by thee, A life within itself, to breathe without Thou first and last of fields ! king-making mankind.
Where rose the mountains, there to him And Harold stands upon this place of skulls,
were friends; The grave of France, the deadly Waterloo ! Where roll'd the ocean, thereon was his home; How in an hour the power which gave annuls