Greece

Clime of the unprotected brave!
    Clime of the ancient, and the free!
Whose blood stain'd banners boldly wave
    Mid storms that rock the Ægean sea,
With arm supine, and careless thought
    Why gaze we on thy conflict dire?
To win that prize our fathers bought,
    Why tamely see thy sons expire?
True,—we can glow at Homer's lay,
    Enraptured hang o'er Pindar's lyre,
Start at thy pencil's deathless ray,
    Thy breathing marble's force admire,
At awful Marathon can list
    To catch the Persian's tone of shame,
At proud Thermopylæ assist
    To bind the immortal wreath of fame;
But when from slaughter'd Scio speeds
    The Moslem curse, the helpless cry,
The echo of unutter'd deeds,—
    We tax our pity with a sigh!
Oh Ye! who saw the mighty yield
    On Saratoga's laurell'd plain
Or bade on Monmouth's fervid field
    Your wounded bosoms flow like rain,—
Rise!—though your wasted locks be gray,
    Though chill'd with want your last retreat,
Lift high the wither'd hand, and say
    How strong your kindred pulses beat,—
Rise!—tell your sons what generous pain,

    What warm, indignant zeal revives,
When 'gainst oppression's wreathed chain
    The crush'd, yet lofty spirit strives;—
And tell their cradled babes the tale,—
    How oft to wrest the tyrant's rod
Do Liberty and Truth prevail
    Clad in the panoply of God,—
Then, ere the holy tear shall cease
    To dew their cheek like rose-bud fair,
Devoutly stamp the name of Greece
    Deep, on their unpolluted prayer.