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The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery

Collected and Revised by the Author

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STARLIGHT ON MARATHON.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

STARLIGHT ON MARATHON.

No vesper-breeze is floating now,
No murmurs shake the air;
A gloom hath veil'd yon mountain-brow
And quietude is there;
While night-beads on the dew-white grass
Drop brilliant as my footsteps pass.
No hum of life disturbs the scene,
The clouds are roll'd to rest;
'Tis like a calm where grief hath been,—
So welcome to the breast!
The warring tones of Day are gone
And starlight gleams on Marathon.
I look around from earth to sky
And gaze from star to star;
Till Grecian hosts seem gliding by
Triumphant from the war:
Like deathless spirits from the dead
Revisiting where once they bled.
What though the mounds which mark'd each name
Beneath the wings of time
Have worn away,—theirs is the fame
Immortal and sublime:
For who can tread on Freedom's plain
Nor wake Her dead to life again!
Oh! to have seen the marching Bands,
And heard the battle-clash,
Have seen their weapon-clenching hands
And eyes' defiant flash,
Their radiant shields and dancing crests
And corslets on their swelling breasts!
Then said the mother to her son
And pointed to his shield,
“Come with it, when the battle's done
Or on it, from the field!”
Then mute she fix'd her dreadless eye
That spoke of ages vanish'd by.
'Twas here they fought: and martial peals
Once thunder'd o'er the ground,
While gash and wound from plunging steels
Bedew'd the battle-mound;
Here Grecians trod the Persian dead,
And Freedom shouted while she bled!

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But, gone the day of Freedom's sword
And cold the patriot brave,
Whose valour crush'd the servile horde
Like victims for the grave;
While Greece arose sublimely free
And dauntless as her own dark sea!
Yet, starlight sheds a pallid beam
For aye upon the plain;
And musing breasts might fondly dream
The Grecian free again;
For empires fall, and freedom dies,
But changeless beauty robes the skies.
May He whose glory veils yon sky,
God of the slave and free!
Hear every patriot's burning sigh
Hope dedicates to thee;
For thee, sad Greece! and every son
Who braves a Turk on Marathon.