ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR.
87
3.
The fire that on my bosom preys
Is lone[1] as some Volcanic isle;
No torch is kindled at its blaze—
A funeral pile.
4.
The hope, the fear, the jealous care,
The exalted portion of the pain
And power of love, I cannot share,
But wear the chain.
5.
But 't is not thus—and 't is not here—[2]
Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now
Where Glory decks the hero's bier,[3]
Or binds his brow.
6.
The Sword, the Banner, and the Field,[4]
Glory and Greece, around me see!
The Spartan, borne upon his shield,[5]
Was not more free.
7.
Awake! (not Greece—she is awake!)
- ↑ Is like to ——.—[M.C.]
- ↑ —— it is not here.—[M.C.]
- ↑ —— seals the hero's bier.—[M. C.]
- ↑ The steed—the Banner—and the Field.—[MS. B.M.]
- ↑ [The slain were borne on their shields. Witness the Spartan mother's speech to her son, delivered with his buckler: "either with this or on this" (B.M. Addit. MS. 31, 038).]
