2.

Oh! who is more brave than a dark Suliote,
In his snowy camese and his shaggy capote?
To the wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild flock,
And descends to the plain like the stream from the
rock.

3.

Shall the sons of Chimari, who never forgive
The fault of a friend, bid an enemy live?

Let those guns so unerring such vengeance forego?
What mark is so fair as the breast of a foe?

4.

Macedonia sends forth her invincible race;
For a time they abandon the cave and the chase:
But those scarfs of blood-red shall be redder, before
The sabre is sheathed and the battle is o'er.

5.

Then the pirates of Parga that dwell by the waves, And teach the pale Franks what it is to be slaves, Shall leave on the beach the long galley and oar, And track to his covert the captive on shore.

6.

I ask not the pleasures that riches supply,
My sabre shall win what the feeble must buy;
Shall win the young bride with her long flowing hair,
And many a maid from her mother shall tear,

7.

I love the fair face of the maid in her youth,
Her caresses shall lull-me, her music shall sooth;
Let her bring from the chamber her many-toned

lyre,

And sing us a song on the fall of her sire. *

8.

Remember the moment when Previsa fell,

The shrieks of the conquered, the conquerors' yell; The roofs that we fired, and the plunder we shared, The wealthy we slaughtered, the lovely we spared.

9.

I talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear;

He neither must know who would serve the Vizier : Since the days of our prophet the Crescent ne'er saw A chief ever glorious like Ali Pashaw.

10.

Dark Muchtar his son to the Danube is sped, Let the yellow-haired* Giaours** view his horsetail *** with dread;

When his Delhis **** come dashing in blood o'er the

banks,

How few shall escape from the Muscovite ranks!

* Yellow is the epithet given to the Russians.

** Infidel.

*** Horse - tails are the insignia of a Pacha.

**** Horsemen, answering to our forlorn hope.

11.

Selictar!* unsheath then our chief's scimitar:
Tambourgi! thy 'larum gives promise of war.
Ye mountains, that see us descend to the shore,
Shall view us as victors, or view us no more!

LXXIII.

Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! 33
Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!
Who now shall lead thy scattered children forth,
And long accustomed bondage uncreate?
Not such thy sons who whilome did await,
The hopeless warriors of a willing doom,
In bleak Thermopylae's sepulchral strait-
Oh! who that gallant spirit shall resume,
Leap from Eurotas' banks, and call thee from the
tomb?

Sword-bearer.

LXXIV.

Spirit of freedom! when on Phyle's brow 3
Thon sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train,
Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now
Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain?

Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain,
But every carle can lord it o'er thy land;

Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain, Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand, From birth till death enslaved; in word, in deed unmanned.

LXXV.

In all save form alone, hov changed! and who
That marks the fire still sparkling in each eye,
Who but would deem their bosoms burned anew
With thy unquenched beam, lost Liberty!
And many dream withal the hour is nigh
That gives them back their fathers' heritage:
For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh,
Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage,

Or tear their name defiled from Slavery's mournful page.