THE HELOT'S SONG. GOD of Armies, break my chain; Long these eyes have pour'd a flood; Hear the proud exulting cry, Baffled tyrants! 6 weep forlorn, Break the scourge, your rage we scorn, Mars, receive our votive breath,— Give us freedom, give us death!' God of Armies, hear! When the bones on earth shall lie, Weltering to the summer's sky, Though no sepulture they find, Though they whiten to the wind, Yet exult not, haughty foe, Strains of war let clarions sing, Freedom now revives, though late; Mid the din of mortal harms, When the final debt is paid. Still the foe, possess'd with dread, Shall confess A MAN lies dead: Follow, follow to the field! God of Armies, hear! PRESTON. SONG OF THE GREEKS. AGAIN to the battle, Achaians! Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance; Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree- The pale dying crescent is daunted; [slaves And we march that the foot-prints of Mahomet's May be wash'd out in blood from our forefather's Their spirits are hovering o'er us, [graves. And the sword shall to glory restore us. Ah! what though no succour advances, Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances Are stretch'd in our aid-be the combat our own! Or that dying, our deaths shall be glorious! A breath of submission we breathe not; The sword that we've drawn we will sheath not; Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid, And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade. Earth may hide, waves engulf, fire consume us; But they shall not to slavery doom us: If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves; But we've smote them already with fire on the waves, And new triumphs on land are before us. To the charge! Heaven's banner is o'er us. This day shall we blush for its story, [spair, Our women-Oh, say, shall they shriek in deOr embrace us from conquest with wreaths in their Accursed may his memory blacken, [hair? If a coward there be that would slacken, Till we've trampled the turban, and shown ourselves worth [earth. Being sprung from, and named for, the godlike of Strike home-and the world shall revere us As heroes descended from heroes. [ring, Old Greece lightens up with emotion Singing joy to the brave that deliver'd their charms, CAMPBELL. CHEROKEE DEATH SONG. THE sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, But glory remains when their lights fade away; Begin, ye tormentors! your threats are in vain, For the son of Alknomook shall never complain. Remember the arrows he shot from his bow,— Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low: Why so slow? Do you wait till I shrink from the pain? No, the son of Alknomook will never complain. Remember the wood where in ambush we lay, And the scalps which we bore from your nation away Now the fire rises fast, you exult in my pain, ILLINOIS DEATH SONG. REAR'D midst the war-empurpled plain, What Illinois submits to pain! How can the glory-darting fire The coward chill of death inspire! The sun a blazing heat bestows, Then let me hail the' immortal fire, |