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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.
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,
CHORUS. “Sons of Greeks! let us go
Jo arms against the foe,
In a river past our feet.
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!
Oh! start again to life!
Your slecp, oh! join with me!
Sons of Greeks, etc.
Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers
Lethargic 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!
In old Thermopylæ, .
To keep his country free;
The battle, long he stood, And like a lion raging, Expired in seas of blood.
Sons of Greeks, etc. THE DREAM.
Our life is two-fold; Sleep hath its own world,
I saw two beings in the hues of youth