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Weep, daughter of a royal line,

A sire's disgrace, a realm's decay; Ah, happy! if each tear of thine

Could wash a father's fault away! Weep-for thy tears are Virtue's tears

Auspicious to these suffering isles; And be each drop in future years Repaid thee by the people's smiles!

March , 1812.

TRANSLATION

OF THE FAMOUS GREEK WAR SONG

• Acũr; cũy ELAYou , Written by Riga, who perished in the attempt

to revolutionize Greece.

Sons of the Greeks, arise!

The glorious hour's gone forth,
And, worthy of such ties,
Display who gave us birth:

CHORUS. “Sons of Greeks! let us go

Jo arms against the foe,
Till their hated blood shall flow

In a river past our feet.

2.

Then manfully despising

The Turkish tyrant's yoke, Let your country see you rising,

And all her chains are broke. Brave shades of chiefs and sages,

Behold the coming strife!
Hellenes of past ages,

Oh! start again to life!
At the sound of my trumpet, breaking

Your slecp, oh! join with me!
And the seven-billed city seeking ,
Fight, conquer, till we're free.

Sons of Greeks, etc.

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Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers

Letbargic dost thou lie? Awake, and join thy numbers

With Athens, old ally! Leonidas recalling,

That chief of ancient song, Who saved ye once from falling,

The terrible! the strong!
Who made that bold diversion

In old Thermopylæ,
And warring with the Persian

To keep his country free;
With his three hundred wagiog

The battle, long he stood, And like a lion raging, Expired in seas of blood.

Sons of Greeks, etc.

THE DREAM.

1.'.

Our life is two-fold; Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed
Death and existence : Sleep hath its own world,
And a wide realm of wild reality,
And dreams in their developement have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; .
They leave a weight upon ou waking thoughts,
They take a weight from off our waking toils,
They do divide our being; they become
A portion of ourselves as of our time,
And look like heralds of eternity;
They pass like spirits of the past, they speak
Like sybils of the future; they have power .
The tyranny of pieasure and of pain;
They make us what we were not—what they will,,
And shake us with the vision that's gone by,
The dread of vanish'd shadows-Are they so?
Is not the past all shadow? What are they?
Creations of the mind ?—The mind can make
Substance, and people planets of its own
With beings brighter than have been, and give
A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.
I would recall a vision wbich I dream'd
Perchance in sleep-for in itself a thought,
A slumbering thought, is capable of years,
And curdles a long life into one hour.

II.

I saw two beings in the hues of youth
Standing upon a hill, a gentle hill,

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