214
THE SPARTAN'S MARCH.
'Twas morn upon the Grecian hills,
Where peasants dress'd the vines,
Sunlight was on Cithœron's rills,
Arcadia's rocks and pines.
And brightly, thro' his reeds and flowers,
Eurotas wandered by,
When a sound arose from Sparta's towers
Of solemn harmony.
