The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival With a biographical sketch |
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2. | [II. O, waken the music of battle] |
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The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | ||
[II. O, waken the music of battle]
O, waken the music of battle!
Let the clash of the cymbals ring loudly,
As the spears on the shields dash and rattle,
When onward the youth rushes proudly:
Let the horn and the trumpet, resounding
In long rolling echoes, inspire us,
Till our hearts like the billow are bounding,
And omens of victory fire us.
Let the clash of the cymbals ring loudly,
As the spears on the shields dash and rattle,
When onward the youth rushes proudly:
Let the horn and the trumpet, resounding
In long rolling echoes, inspire us,
Till our hearts like the billow are bounding,
And omens of victory fire us.
323
Hark the shout!—far its echo is rolling;
Eleleu! Eleleu! swells it onward:
Sword and shield clang in time, high controlling
Each hero, quick hurrying vanward.
On the foe moves in line, firm and steady,
To the soft breath of flutes slow advancing;
Drawn each sword, poised each spear, all are ready;
Bright the sun on their plumed helms is glancing.
Eleleu! Eleleu! swells it onward:
Sword and shield clang in time, high controlling
Each hero, quick hurrying vanward.
On the foe moves in line, firm and steady,
To the soft breath of flutes slow advancing;
Drawn each sword, poised each spear, all are ready;
Bright the sun on their plumed helms is glancing.
To the charge! like the rush of the ocean,—
Like torrents, from mountain-tops dashing
Down the gulf, where, in mingled commotion,
Crag and wood 'mid the white flood are crashing.
Hark the shock! shield on shield rings, rebounding:
As a rock firmly set, they repel it.
On again, louder Eleleus sounding;
Ours such fire, not the Spartan can quell it.
Like torrents, from mountain-tops dashing
Down the gulf, where, in mingled commotion,
Crag and wood 'mid the white flood are crashing.
Hark the shock! shield on shield rings, rebounding:
As a rock firmly set, they repel it.
On again, louder Eleleus sounding;
Ours such fire, not the Spartan can quell it.
The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | ||