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84
poems.
THE DEATH OF LEONIDAS.
The golden light of day was o'er;
The sun had left the glorious west:
The bird's sweet notes were heard no more:
Nature around was all at rest.
That rest was well. To ancient Greece,
The morrow was a fearful day.
It brought her high-souled sons release,
Or bowed them to a tyrant's sway.

Yet in that proud and storied land,
All might not share calm Nature's sleep.
There stood a firm, devoted band,
Faithful their sacred watch to keep.
They stood upon that battle eve,
Resolved, with purpose firm and high,
A Spartan's heritage to leave,—
To conquer, or unsullied die.

Amid that stern debate he rose,
His will to speak, that kingly soul.
No fear his purpose might oppose;
No selfish thoughts his mind control.
Leonidas! thy name we trace
Bright upon Sparta's deathless page;
The glory of thy glorious race,
Bravest mid that heroic age.

He rose, his soul unnerved by fear,
Foremost in that most princely band.