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The hopeless warriors of a willing doom, 1 In bleak Thermopylæ's sepulchral strait
Oh! who that gallant spirit shall resume, pa Leap from Eurotas' banks, and call thee from the tomb?
LXXIV. Spirit of freedom! when on Phyle's brows, pel Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train, non Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now, a Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain?,1!!! Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain, si !! But every carle can lord it o'er thy land; !!! Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain, you?
Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand, i From birth till death enslav’d; in word, in deed unmann'd.
LXXV: In all save form alone, how chang'd! and who 1 That marks the fire still sparkling in each eye,, Who but would deem their bosoms burn'd anews With thy unquenched beam, lost Liberty ! ... And many dream withal the hour is nigh.. .ver That gives them back their fathers' heritage: For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh, w
Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage, Or tear their name defil'd from Slavery's mournful page.
LXXVI. Hereditary bondsınen! 'know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow? By their right arms the conquest must be wrought?' Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? no! : 'chill True, they may lay your proud despoilers low, But not for you will Freedom's altars flame. ' 7*!! Shades of the Helots! triumph o'er your foe!!!
Greece! change thy lords, thy state is still the same ; Thy glorious day is o'er, but not thine years of shame.
LXXVII. The city won for Allah from the Giaour, The Giaour from Othman's race again may wrest;" And the Serai's impenetrable tower Receive the fiery Frank, her former guest; 35. " On Wuhab's rebel brood who dared divest A The 36 prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil, May wind their path of blood along the West'; : 1
But ne'er will freedom seek this fated soil, But slave succeed to slave through years of endless toil.
In motley robe to dance at masking ball, PP And join the mimic train of merry Carnival.
LXXIX. And whose more rife with merriment than thine, Oh Stamboul! once the empress of their reigne: 0 Though turbans now pollute Sophia's shrine, 'n And Greece her very altars eyes in vain, na aliw (Alas!'her woes will still pervade my 'strain!!:23 Gay were her ministrels once, for free her throng, All felt the common joy they now must feign, 0)
Nor oft I've seen such sight, nor heard such song, As woo'd the eye--and thrilld the Bosphorus along. 1/1
A brighter glance her form reflected gave,
Let sage or cynic prattle as he will, ir į utensch These hours, and only these, redeem Life's years of ill!A