University of Virginia Library

A TRUE PATRIOT.

It is related that when Socrates fell a victim to the passions of a partial tribunal and a deluded people, and all his disciples were terrified into flight, his friend Isocrates had the honorable intrepidity to appear in the streets of Athens with the mourning garb.

Ha! leave ye, in affright,
That sad, unmanly sight,—
The corse alone!
Have ye not one true heart,
That thus from him ye part?
Are all,—all gone!
Reel back, ye cowering slaves!
Blanch, ye Athenian knaves,
With pallid fear!
Look where the true man stands,—
Look! for the dead commands,
The gray-haired seer!
Gaze on the patriot now,
With still unrufled brow,
In mourning robes;
Tremble! he fears ye not—
Stand back! he seeks the spot—
Grief his heart probes!
See how your soil he spurns,
A lofty soul he mourns,
Low bows his head.
Say, can ye longer sleep?
Weep! guilty cowards, weep!
Weep for the dead.
Ay! let the rushing tear
Down every cheek appear,
In sorrow driven.
Pale are the lips that spoke,
Hushed are the tones that woke,
Calm thoughts of heaven!
Haste! matron, maid, and son,—
Cry to each slumbering one,
“Behold the slain.”
Pass on through every street,
Bid every voice ye meet
Take up the strain!
Go, charge the flying Greek
That reverend form to seek,
That silent bier;
Let not the city's walls
Hold back your frenzied calls,—
The world must hear!
Oh! ye have crushed the tie
Which bound that pulse; no sigh
Can break the spell;
In vain ye crowd around,
He hears no sob, no sound,
God-like!—Farewell!