And he who in the strife expires
Will add to theirs a name of fear
That Tyranny shall quake to hear, 120
And leave his sons a hope, a fame,
They too will rather die than shame:
For Freedom's battle once begun.
Bequeathed by bleeding Sire to Son,
Though baffled oft is ever won.
Bear witness, Greece, thy living page !
Attest it many a deathless age!
While Kings, in dusty darkness hid,
Have left a nameless pyramid.
Thy Heroes, though the general doom 130
Hath swept the column from their tomb,
A mightier monument command,
The mountains of their native land!
There points thy Muse to stranger's eye
The graves of those that cannot die!
'Twere long to tell, and sad to trace,
Each step from Splendour to Disgrace;
Enough — no foreign foe could quell
Thy soul, till from itself it fell;
Yet! Self-abasement paved the way 140
To villain-bonds and despot sway.
What can he tell who treads thy shore ?
No legend of thine olden time,
No theme on which the Muse might soar
High as thine own in days of yore,
- And he who in the cause expires,
Will add a nafne a?id fate to them
Well worthy of his noble stem.—[MS.]
- Commenced by Sire—received by Son.—[MS.]
- Attest it many a former age
While kings in dark oblivion hid.—[MS.]
- There let the Muse direct thine eye.—[MS.]