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.
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.
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.
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.
"O! can I count my life-blood dear,
When shed for thee, my native land?
True to the land where calmly sleep
The ashes of our warrior sires;
True to the Gods who watch to keep
Still glowing Freedom's sacred fires;—
Foremost in that most princely band.
"O! can I count my life-blood dear,
When shed for thee, my native land?
True to the land where calmly sleep
The ashes of our warrior sires;
True to the Gods who watch to keep
Still glowing Freedom's sacred fires;—
Fearless within the battle's strife,
To front the Persian's ranks I go.
I freely offer hand and life,
Nor fear to meet our haughty foe.
Shall Sparta's children ever flee,
Though ranks of foemen cross their path?
My mother! I have learned from thee,
Nobly to face their direst wrath.
To front the Persian's ranks I go.
I freely offer hand and life,
Nor fear to meet our haughty foe.
Shall Sparta's children ever flee,
Though ranks of foemen cross their path?
My mother! I have learned from thee,
Nobly to face their direst wrath.
Have ye forgot the words she spoke,
Who taught ¢ to conquer or to die?"
Who first proud freedom's impulse woke,
And nerved the soul to daring high?
"Bring back thy shield, or, as a bier,
Let it unsullied bear thee home:
Thou may'st not shed the coward tear,
Nor she who here alone shall roam.
Who taught ¢ to conquer or to die?"
Who first proud freedom's impulse woke,
And nerved the soul to daring high?
"Bring back thy shield, or, as a bier,
Let it unsullied bear thee home:
Thou may'st not shed the coward tear,
Nor she who here alone shall roam.
"One wall alone the foe may scale,—
The dead of Sparta, nobly slain.
Though millions may that pass assail,
No fear shall e'er our spirits stain.
Then, brethren, follow to the field;
Conquer, or nobly, proudly die.
In death alone your birthright yield,
In glory breathe your parting sigh."
The dead of Sparta, nobly slain.
Though millions may that pass assail,
No fear shall e'er our spirits stain.
Then, brethren, follow to the field;
Conquer, or nobly, proudly die.
In death alone your birthright yield,
In glory breathe your parting sigh."
Finished! where fell that martyr band?
Where slept that leader with his dead?
To save that proud and storied land,
Brave blood by Sparta there was shed.
Leonidas! thy glorious place
Is 'mid thy country's purest fame.
Nor ruthless time can e'er efface
The memory of thy matchless name.
Where slept that leader with his dead?
To save that proud and storied land,
Brave blood by Sparta there was shed.
Leonidas! thy glorious place
Is 'mid thy country's purest fame.
Nor ruthless time can e'er efface
The memory of thy matchless name.