VII.

SONG.

Ζώη με, σάς ἀγαπῶ. *

ATHENS, 1810.

1.

MAID of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh, give me back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!
Hear my vow before I go,

Ζώη με, σάς ἀγαπῶ.

* Zoë mou, sas agapo, or Zwŋ μỡ, odsảyaww, a Romaic expression of tenderness: if I translate it I shall affront the gentlemen, as it may seem I supposed they could not; and if I do not I may affront the ladies. For fear of any misconstruction on the part of the latter I shall do so, begging pardon of the learned. It means, My Life, I love you!" which sounds very prettily in all languages, and is as much in fashion in Greece at this day as, Juvenal tells us, the two first words were amongst the Roman ladies, whose erotic expressions were all Hellenized.

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2.

By those tresses unconfin'd,
Woo'd by each Ægean wind;
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge;
By those wild eyes like the roe,
Ζώη με, σάς ἀγαπῶ.

3.

By that lip I long to taste;
By that zone-encircl'd waist;

By all the token-flowers* that tell
What words can never speak so well;
By Love's alternate joy and woe,
Ζώη μέ, σὰς ἀγαπῶ.

In the East (where ladies are not taught to write, lest they should scribble assignations) flowers, cinders, pebbles, &c. convey the sentiments of the parties by that universal deputy of Mercury—an old woman. A cinder says, "I burn for thee;" a bunch of flowers tied with hair, "Take me and fly;" but a pebble declares-what nothing else can.

4.

Maid of Athens! I am gone:

Think of me, sweet! when alone.
Though I fly to Islambol,*

Athens holds my heart and soul:
Can I cease to love thee? No!
Ζώη με, σας αγαπω.

VIII.

Translation of the famous Greek War Song, Δεύτε παῖδες τῶν 'EAλvwv, written by Riga, who perished in the attempt to revolutionize Greece. The following translation is as literal as the author could make it in verse, which is of the same measure with that of the original. See Appendix.

SONS of the Greeks, arise!

The glorious hour's gone forth,

And, worthy of such ties,

Display who gave us birth.

* Constantinople.

P

CHORUS.

Sons of Greeks! let us go

In arms against the foe,

Till their hated blood shall flow

In a river past our feet.

2.

Then manfully despising
The Turkish tyrant's yoke,
Let your country see you rising,
And all her chains are broke.
Brave shades of chiefs and sages,

Behold the coming strife!

Hellenes of past ages,

Oh, start again to life!

At the sound of my trumpet, breaking
Your sleep, oh, join with me!
And the seven-hill'd* city seeking,
Fight, conquer, till we're free.

Sons of Greeks, &c.

* Constantinople. "Erlaλogos."

Επλαλοφος.”

3.

Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers
Lethargic dost thou lie?

Awake, and join thy numbers
With Athens, old ally!

Leonidas recalling,

That chief of ancient song,

Who sav'd ye once from falling,

The terrible! the strong!

Who made that bold diversion
In old Thermopyla,

And warring with the Persian

To keep his country free; With his three hundred waging

The battle, long he stood,

And like a lion raging,

Expir'd in seas of blood.

Sons of Greeks, &c.