If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves; But we've smote them already with fire on the waves, And new triumphs on land are before us. To the charge!-Heaven's banner is o'er us. This day shall ye blush for its story, Or brighten your lives with its glory. Our women, Oh, say, shall they shriek in despair, Or embrace us from conquest with wreaths in their hair? Accursed may his memory blacken, If a coward there be that would slacken Till we've trampled the turban and shown ourselves worth Being sprung from and named for the godlike of earth. Strike home, and the world shall revere us As heroes descended from heroes. Old Greece lightens up with emotion Her inlands, her isles of the Ocean; Fanes rebuilt and fair towns shall with jubilee ring, And the Nine shall new-hallow their Helicon's spring: Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness, That were cold and extinguish'd in sadness; Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white waving arms, Singing joy to the brave that deliver'd their charms, When the blood of yon Musulman cravens Shall have purpled the beaks of our ravens. THE LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS ON HER BIRTH-DAY. Ir any white-wing'd Power above My joys and griefs survey, The day when thou wert born, my love— He surely bless'd that day. I laugh'd (till taught by thee) when told Of Beauty's magic powers, That ripen❜d life's dull ore to gold, And changed its weeds to flowers. THE LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS. 89 My mind had lovely shapes pourtray'd; But thought I earth had one Could make ev'n Fancy's visions fade Like stars before the sun? I gaz'd, and felt upon my lips One moment's bliss, one burning kiss, And though as swift as lightning's flash Not all the waves of time shall wash Their memory from my view. |