« ForrigeFortsett »
The long wild locks that to their girdles stream’d, While thus in concert they this lay half sang, half
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 soothe ; 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 conquer'd, the conquerors' yell; The roofs that we fired, and the plunder we shared, The wealthy we slaughter'd, the lovely we spared.
Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand,
In all save form alone, how changed ! and who
Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage,
LXXVI. Hereditary bondsmen! 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! True, they may lay your proud despoilers low, But not for you will Freedom's altars flame. 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; Or Wahab's rebel brood who dared divest The prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil, May wind their path of blood along the West;
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,
Nor oft I've seen such sight, nor heard such song, As woo'd the eye, and thrilld the Bosphorus along.