By suff'ring, from the tender charities
Which link man to his fellows. 'Tis enough-

I will not, hapless peasant, by reproach,

Increase thy mis'ry, nor with cruel taunts
Upon thy fallen state, tell thee thy sires

Would have aveng'd such injuries, and rais’d
Their hands against the hand that tortur'd them;
No, I will weep with thee, and in thy wounds,
Still bleeding with the stroke of tyranny,
Infuse the balm of comfort; I will strive

To raise thy broken spirit, and with tales

Of thy forefathers' deeds, waken the fire

Which slumbers, not extinguish'd, in thy breast.

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515

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Yon mound of earth, on which the wild flow'r waves, Covers a band of heroes who here fell

In Freedom's phalanx; there let us recline;

And rest thy pale cheek on thine arm, whilst thus

I tell thee how the warriors fought and died.

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This plain, which here so wide expands, o'erspread

• With wood, and water'd by unnumber'd springs

Which gush from yonder mountains, soon contracts

Into a narrow path, where scarcely thou

E

'Canst drive thy yoked car, and winds between

‹ The gloom of shaggy cliffs, and the deep roar Of billows; there the gallant warrior stood, Leonidas, and marshall'd with his spear

• The band of his embattled countrymen;

530

‹ They round their chieftain gather'd, as the storm 535 Spreads gloomily around the mountain's breast.

'The war-trump sounded.—Thou hast seen the might

· Of fierce Salampria' roll his wint'ry tide

' Over thy fields; so burst th' invading bands,
'A torrent, on thy fathers; thou hast seen,
'Upon Kisavo's' height, the hunted boar
· Rush with blind fury on the serried points
• Of pike and jav'lin; so the hero turn'd

540

• His dauntless bosom to the iron edge

· Of battle. Long and doubtful was the fight;

545

Day after day the hostile army pour'd

'Its choicest warriors, but in vain—they fell,

'Or fled inglorious. Foul treachery

At last prevail'd; a steep and dangʼrous path,

9 The modern name of Peneus. 1 The modern name of Mount Ossa.

Of thy heroic sires. The morning dawn'd

And the brave Chieftain, when he rais'd his head

'From the cold rock on which he rested, view'd

Banner and helmet, and the waving fire

· From lance and buckler, glancing high amidst
'Each pointed cliff and copse which stretch along
'Yon mountain's bosom. Then he saw his fate;
'But saw it with an unaverted eye:

Around his spear he call'd his countrymen,

And with a smile that o'er his rugged cheek

'Pass'd transient, like the momentary flash

Streaking a thunder-cloud-" But we will die"

'(He cried) " like Grecians; we will leave our sons

"A bright example; let each warrior bind

Firmly his mail, and grasp his lance, and scowl

"From underneath his helm, a frown of death

66

Upon his shrinking foe; then let him fix

"His firm unbending knee, and where he fights,

“ There fall.”—They heard, and on their shields
Clashing the war-song with a noble rage,
'Rush'd headlong in the conflict of the fight,

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And died, as they had liv'd, triumphantly.

And when thy country calls thee from thy plains 575

'To fight for liberty, remember those

'Who bled, unconquer'd, with Leonidas!'

There was a time when ev'ry father taught

His child these tales, and as he watch'd the dawn

Of infant reason beaming in his eye,

580

And form'd his limbs, by martial exercise,

To feats of danger, bade him emulate

His ancestors in battle. Ev'ry rock

And forest rang with the inspiring strains,
When near an aged oak, the hoary bard

Waken'd the preludes of his harp to songs
Of hardy enterprise, whilst on his lips

The list'ning youth in mute attention hung,
Breathless to hear the harmony divine.

585

Those times are past, and now a stranger's hand

590

Must sweep the strings, and feebly wake the chords

To tell to Greece, how noble were the sires,
How weak and how degen'rate are the sons.
Mournful is the remembrance which awakes

Within my breast, as I ascend thy heights,
O Eta! nor can thy majestic scenes,
Thy woody fastnesses, thy naked cliffs

Sinking in precipice, or shooting bold

In tower'd masses, charm my mind from thoughts
Of former deeds, and glories now no more.
Bulwark of Greece, whilst Greece had still a name,

How awful did thy rocky barriers rise
To the invader, when from far he view'd
Thy rugged form imprinted on the sky
Of ev'ning glowing with its golden tints :
He vaunted not when, on thy highest point,
He saw unnumber'd fires streaking the gloom
Of night with ruddy gleams, and darting wide
From peak to peak in one long stream of light,
The silent signal that the foe was nigh:
He vaunted not when, with a nearer glance,
Down thy rough sides he trac'd a glittʼring line
Of radiant panoply, and watch'd the rays

Of morning playing on the helm and spear
Of warriors, marching with firm tread to sounds
Of Doric flute; but now amidst thy glens

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