The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield ::

'T is sunset o'er Oraco's vale
And old Dodona's holy woods,
Where lingers many a glorious tale
Shrined in those holy solitudes;
And through Klissura's dim defile,
As pours Voioussa's mountain flood,
Its dark waves catch a sunlight smile
Along the lonely pass of blood;
And Pindus wears a robe of light
Through all his rugged mountain range,
Like spirits throned where chance and blight
Come not, nor sin nor any change;
And on the Cassopean Height
The Kunghi—fortress of the brave,
Like dark clouds on a lurid night,
Hangs threatening o'er the Ionian wave.

'T is midnight: and a Suliote band
Of faint and famished ones pass on
In silence—exiles from that Land
Where deathless deeds were vainly done,
And through a deep, wild, wooded dell
The last hope of the Suliote name
Tread trembling where their fathers fell,
The eternal heirs of Grecian fame,
And often back their dim eyes turn,
In love yet lingering mid despair,
Where beacon lights of glory burn
Amid proud Freedom's mountain air.
But few can now find free abode
On those wild cliffs where temples erst
Rose, crown'd with glory, to each god,
Whose presence from the starr'd skies burst!

236

They leave their childhood's sunny home,
The birth place of their love and pride,
In utter outcast misery roam
Where food and shelter are denied,
And by the wayside die, or see
Their hearts' fair blossoms torn away,
(The rich buds of a withering tree,)
Too near to death to weep or pray.
Such the dark doom of Freedom's sons—
Such Ali Aslan's tyrant wrath—
And forth the lone despairing ones
Move feebly on their mountain path.

“God of the Brave! they little know,
“Yon heart-sick band, what perils wait,
“What terrors lower from Kunghi's brow,
“Worst than the wildest work of hate.
“Let Ali Aslan tread these towers,
“And dare the doom he taught the slave!
“Few are the turban'd despot's hours—
“'T is Freedom—Glory—or the Grave!”
So spake the high-souled Caloyer,
The Polemarque of Suli's band:
The man whose trumpet voice could stir
The faintest heart in all the land:
As round upon a score of men
Sworn on that gory rock to die,
He glanced in lofty pride and then
Raised unto heaven his warrior eye.
“Lift the Red Banner! by our wrath
“This naked rock shall dearer cost
“Than all Janina's pacha hath;
“Or all we have for ages lost!
“Lift the Red Banner! let him come,
“And brothers! 't will be heaven to die,
“Our birthplace for our trophied tomb,
“Our death, our immortality!
—“Brave Palikars! they come, they come!”
Each in the full heart's silence stood,
Thought of lost hope and ruined home,
And deep revenge in Othman blood.

237

“They come! they come! now stand apart
“With torches in your red right hands,
“And by the wrongs of every heart,
“Where this proud tower on Pindus stands,
“The Suliote's grave shall be—and there
“The victim victors with their foes
“Shall sleep mid their own mountain air
“Free till life's latest heart pulse close!”
They come—the Pacha's Arnaut host,
With gleaming spears and scimitars;
They come—Epirus' warrior boast
To meet the Suliote palikars.
But still as Tadmor's ruined halls
Kiaffa lowers, and one alone
With a deep voice on Ali calls;
“Come, spoiler, tyrant! haste—come on!
“With myrmidon and minstrel come,
“With dagger, sabre, lance and gong,
“With banner wrought in hell's black loom,
“With dark heart drenched in human wrong!
“Come! we will meet thee as the slave
“Meets in despair his tyrant—come!
“Kiaffa is the Suliote's grave,
“Or Ali Aslan's final home!”

Thousands the rocks on thousands climb,
And rush through Suli's silent tower,
And rapture thrills the soul sublime
Of that lone man at life's last hour.
“Yes, I will lead the Conqueror's way,—
“Why loiters now the Conqueror's tread?
“Let Ali mark his brightest day,
“And hear the council of the dead!”
And, driven on by spear and brand,
Through darkened vaults and winding aisles,
He trod like one who held command
O'er vast lands where one summer smiles;
And every solemn step was heard
Mid all the din of wild pursuit,
As if a Hero's Spectre stirred
At every echo of his foot.

238

Onward through mazy paths he trod
And thousands followed hurriedly,
When loudly—“In the name of God!
“Death on the shrine of Liberty!”
The Caloyer's high voice went forth,
“Death to the tyrant and the slave!
“Death on the spot that gave us birth!
“Revenge triumphant o'er the grave!
“Revenge for home, hope, country gone!
“Revenge for bondage borne in vain!
“Revenge for each loved, honoured one!
“Revenge for all!” He fired the train!
The fire ran, leapt and burst and flew
Through all the vaulted magazine,
And dark as fiends the Moslems grew—
The Suliotes knelt and prayed serene.
Each for one moment—seas of flame
Burst through vast rocks that had withstood
The skill of many a vaunted name,
The earthquake and the boundless flood.
The mountain sprang asunder then;
And, mid a storm of shattered rocks,
The arms and limbs of thousand men
Flew through the air in blackened flocks,
And mid the glare and gloom—the roar,
The wreck, the ruin, upward rose,
Like the mind's glance, o'er tower and shore,
A Form that triumphed o'er his foes:
Blackened and rent, with hands outspread,
And blood-shot eyes and lava lips,
And sword and torch, as when he said—
“His hands in blood proud Ali dips—
“Here let us grapple eye to eye!”
O'er the haught Pacha's head he rode
Like a quenched meteor through the sky—
The awful ruin of a god!

239

So Suli's cliffs and crags became
A lurid mass of fire and blood,
The home of havoc and of flame,
Where Freedom in her death hour stood,
Where tyrants ne'er shall dare to stand,
While Suli's sons on earth draw breath,
In that proud, holy, storied Land
Where Glory lights the realms of Death.

Whenever the word God occurs in the author's compositions without a capital and double emphasis, the reader will consider the epithet merely as significant of extraordinary not almighty Power.

University of Virginia Library

THE SULIOTE POLEMARQUE.