The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
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 | The works of Mrs. Hemans |  |
116
THE SLEEPER OF MARATHON.
I lay upon the solemn plain,
And by the funeral mound,
Where those who died not there in vain,
Their place of sleep had found.
And by the funeral mound,
Where those who died not there in vain,
Their place of sleep had found.
'Twas silent where the free blood gush'd,
When Persia came array'd—
So many a voice had there been hush'd,
So many a footstep stay'd.
When Persia came array'd—
So many a voice had there been hush'd,
So many a footstep stay'd.
I slumber'd on the lonely spot
So sanctified by death:
I slumber'd—but my rest was not
As theirs who lay beneath.
So sanctified by death:
I slumber'd—but my rest was not
As theirs who lay beneath.
For on my dreams, that shadowy hour,
They rose—the chainless dead—
All arm'd they sprang, in joy, in power,
Up from their grassy bed.
They rose—the chainless dead—
All arm'd they sprang, in joy, in power,
Up from their grassy bed.
I saw their spears, on that red field,
Flash as in time gone by—
Chased to the seas without his shield,
I saw the Persian fly.
Flash as in time gone by—
Chased to the seas without his shield,
I saw the Persian fly.
I woke—the sudden trumpet's blast
Call'd to another fight—
From visions of our glorious past,
Who doth not wake in might?
Call'd to another fight—
From visions of our glorious past,
Who doth not wake in might?
| The works of Mrs. Hemans | |