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Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 7.djvu/117

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83
SONG TO THE SULIOTES.

JOURNAL IN CEPHALONIA.

The dead have been awakened—shall I sleep?
The World's at war with tyrants—shall I crouch?
The harvest's ripe—and shall I pause to reap?
I slumber not; the thorn is in my Couch;
Each day a trumpet soundeth in mine ear,
Its echo in my heart——

June 19, 1823.
[First published, Letters, 1901, vi. 238.]


SONG TO THE SULIOTES.

1.

Up to battle! Sons of Suli
Up, and do your duty duly!
There the wall—and there the Moat is:
Bouwah![1] Bouwah! Suliotes!
There is booty—there is Beauty,
Up my boys and do your duty.


2.

By the sally and the rally
Which defied the arms of Ali;
By your own dear native Highlands,
By your children in the islands,
Up and charge, my Stratiotes,
Bouwah!—Bouwah!—Suliotes!


  1. "Bouwah!" is their war-cry.