]
Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train,
Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now
Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain?
Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train,
Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now
Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain?
Byron
thy 'larum gives promise of War.
[fr]
Ye Mountains, that see us descend to the shore,
Shall view us as Victors, or view us no more!
LXXIII.
Fair Greece! sad relic of departed Worth! [33. B. ]
Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!
Who now shall lead thy scattered children forth,
And long accustomed bondage uncreate?
Not such thy sons who whilome did await,
The helpless warriors of a willing doom,
In bleak Thermopylae's sepulchral strait--
Oh! who that gallant spirit shall resume,
Leap from Eurotas' banks, and call thee from the tomb? [180]
LXXIV.
Spirit of Freedom! when on Phyle's brow[34. B.
]
Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train,
Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now
Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain?
Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain,
But every carle can lord it o'er thy land;
Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain,
Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand,
From birth till death enslaved; in word, in deed, unmanned. [fs]
LXXV.
In all save form alone, how changed! and who
That marks the fire still sparkling in each eye,
Who but would deem their bosoms burned anew
With thy unquenched beam, lost Liberty! [ft]
And many dream withal the hour is nigh
That gives them back their fathers' heritage:
For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh,
Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage,
Or tear their name defiled from Slavery's mournful page.
LXXVI.
Hereditary Bondsmen! know ye not
_Who_ would be free _themselves_ must strike the blow?
By their right arms the conquest must be wrought? [181]
Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? No!
True--they may lay your proud despoilers low,
But not for you will Freedom's Altars flame.
Shades of the Helots! triumph o'er your foe!
Greece!
Ye Mountains, that see us descend to the shore,
Shall view us as Victors, or view us no more!
LXXIII.
Fair Greece! sad relic of departed Worth! [33. B. ]
Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!
Who now shall lead thy scattered children forth,
And long accustomed bondage uncreate?
Not such thy sons who whilome did await,
The helpless warriors of a willing doom,
In bleak Thermopylae's sepulchral strait--
Oh! who that gallant spirit shall resume,
Leap from Eurotas' banks, and call thee from the tomb? [180]
LXXIV.
Spirit of Freedom! when on Phyle's brow[34. B.
]
Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train,
Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now
Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain?
Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain,
But every carle can lord it o'er thy land;
Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain,
Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand,
From birth till death enslaved; in word, in deed, unmanned. [fs]
LXXV.
In all save form alone, how changed! and who
That marks the fire still sparkling in each eye,
Who but would deem their bosoms burned anew
With thy unquenched beam, lost Liberty! [ft]
And many dream withal the hour is nigh
That gives them back their fathers' heritage:
For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh,
Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage,
Or tear their name defiled from Slavery's mournful page.
LXXVI.
Hereditary Bondsmen! know ye not
_Who_ would be free _themselves_ must strike the blow?
By their right arms the conquest must be wrought? [181]
Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? No!
True--they may lay your proud despoilers low,
But not for you will Freedom's Altars flame.
Shades of the Helots! triumph o'er your foe!
Greece!
