 | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival |  |
241
THE SUNIAN PALLAS.
By Sunium's rock I took my way
Along the blue Ægean sea,
That bright in golden sunset lay
Round the fair islands of the free:
A form of more than mortal mould
On the high rock sublimely rose;
The bosses of her buckler rolled
Like eyes of lightning on her foes:
I looked,—the blue-eyed goddess there
Stood glorious in the evening air.
Along the blue Ægean sea,
That bright in golden sunset lay
Round the fair islands of the free:
A form of more than mortal mould
On the high rock sublimely rose;
The bosses of her buckler rolled
Like eyes of lightning on her foes:
I looked,—the blue-eyed goddess there
Stood glorious in the evening air.
She stood and raised her brazen lance,
That glittered like a meteor's beam;
Its light below in quivering dance
Flashed gayly on the ocean stream:
Round her tall casque her plumy crest
Shook with a terrible sign of power,
And the grim Ægis on her breast
Told to the Turk his destined hour:
She spake,—and like the rush of flame
Her voice in awful murmurs came.
That glittered like a meteor's beam;
Its light below in quivering dance
Flashed gayly on the ocean stream:
Round her tall casque her plumy crest
Shook with a terrible sign of power,
And the grim Ægis on her breast
Told to the Turk his destined hour:
She spake,—and like the rush of flame
Her voice in awful murmurs came.
“Sons, worthy of your warrior sires!
Yours is the cause of earth and heaven;
Shame to the heart that faints or tires,
Till the last sacrifice is given!
Go fearlessly along your path,—
It mounts to liberty and fame;
Go, with an unrelenting wrath,
And conquer till the Turk is tame:
When the red fires of battle glare,
Remember—I am with ye there.
Yours is the cause of earth and heaven;
Shame to the heart that faints or tires,
Till the last sacrifice is given!
Go fearlessly along your path,—
It mounts to liberty and fame;
Go, with an unrelenting wrath,
And conquer till the Turk is tame:
When the red fires of battle glare,
Remember—I am with ye there.
“These rocks that rise so rudely round
Were consecrate to me of old;
Here the Athenian sternly bound,
For rapid fight, his mantle's fold:
He saw the Persian tents below;
They filled and blackened all the plain:
He rushed,—and, like a torrent's flow,
Swept them, and hurled them to the main:
This was the wrath that made him free,
The fearless wrath of Liberty.
Were consecrate to me of old;
242
For rapid fight, his mantle's fold:
He saw the Persian tents below;
They filled and blackened all the plain:
He rushed,—and, like a torrent's flow,
Swept them, and hurled them to the main:
This was the wrath that made him free,
The fearless wrath of Liberty.
“What if a cold and coward world
Leave ye to work your way alone;
Be the new banner never furled
Till Liberty is all our own.
Tell them we ask no other aid
Than our own hearts in such a cause;
No, none but Freemen's hands were made
To fight and win for equal laws.
Go, with a firm, confiding breast,—
Go, fight, and win the conqueror's rest.”
Leave ye to work your way alone;
Be the new banner never furled
Till Liberty is all our own.
Tell them we ask no other aid
Than our own hearts in such a cause;
No, none but Freemen's hands were made
To fight and win for equal laws.
Go, with a firm, confiding breast,—
Go, fight, and win the conqueror's rest.”
| The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | |