 | The Outcast, and other poems |  |
121
THE GREEK LOVERS.
Fly, Greek! for the gloomy battle-cloud
Hangs darkling in thy rear;
The shout of the turbaned foe is loud,
And his flashing steel is near.
Hangs darkling in thy rear;
The shout of the turbaned foe is loud,
And his flashing steel is near.
Thy ready sword, and thy gallant hand,
Gainst a host would strike in vain;
Then hasten thou to some refuge-land,
Across yon murmuring main.
Gainst a host would strike in vain;
Then hasten thou to some refuge-land,
Across yon murmuring main.
Thy home is lost—thy friends are dead—
Beneath you murky pall,
That casts its shadows wide and dread,
They sleep in their ghastly thrall.
Beneath you murky pall,
That casts its shadows wide and dread,
They sleep in their ghastly thrall.
They will not wake though the clarion rings—
Alas! how cold the Greek
Who sleeps while his bleeding country flings
Her call from each bannered peak!
Alas! how cold the Greek
Who sleeps while his bleeding country flings
Her call from each bannered peak!
122
Hoof-torn, and sabre-scarred, they rest,
Fathers, and sons, and brothers—
Lover, and loved, still breast to breast—
And clinging babes and mothers.
Fathers, and sons, and brothers—
Lover, and loved, still breast to breast—
And clinging babes and mothers.
The crescent waves o'er the trampled cross,
The Turks on the Christian tread;
Oh! stay not, Greek, to count thy loss—
A price is on thy head!
The Turks on the Christian tread;
Oh! stay not, Greek, to count thy loss—
A price is on thy head!
Thy path is o'er the deep—away!
The moonbeam lights the tide;
Launch thy swift shallop through the spray,
With that trembler at thy side!
The moonbeam lights the tide;
Launch thy swift shallop through the spray,
With that trembler at thy side!
Thy sheltering sword around her brow
Hath been a shield to-day;
And she is all that liveth now,
Young Greek, to thee—away!
Hath been a shield to-day;
And she is all that liveth now,
Young Greek, to thee—away!
| The Outcast, and other poems | |