Valentine Verses or, Lines of Truth, Love, and Virtue. By the Reverend Richard Cobbold |
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GREEKS AS THEY WERE
AND
GREEKS AS THEY ARE. |
 | Valentine Verses |  |
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GREEKS AS THEY WERE AND GREEKS AS THEY ARE.
Ye sons of Atreus, whither are ye gone?
O Agamemnon, Ajax, Peleus' son,
Nestor, thou wisest of the Grecian host,
And thou, Ulysses, whither is thy boast?
O Diomed, thou hero of the brave,
With heroes like thee, thou hast found thy grave.
Ye mighty Greeks, methinks I see ye now,
Assembled warriors, I hear you vow;
Aye more distinctly than the gods of old;—
I see your numbers, chiefs in phalanx told,
Prepared for battle; Surely were I one,
Some deed of honor had been boldly done;—
My speech partaking of the ancient strain,
Had poured forth fluently as pelting rain.
O Agamemnon, Ajax, Peleus' son,
Nestor, thou wisest of the Grecian host,
And thou, Ulysses, whither is thy boast?
O Diomed, thou hero of the brave,
With heroes like thee, thou hast found thy grave.
Ye mighty Greeks, methinks I see ye now,
Assembled warriors, I hear you vow;
Aye more distinctly than the gods of old;—
I see your numbers, chiefs in phalanx told,
Prepared for battle; Surely were I one,
Some deed of honor had been boldly done;—
My speech partaking of the ancient strain,
Had poured forth fluently as pelting rain.
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To arms, to arms! ye Grecians! sons of war,
Yon host advancing, bids ye to the car!
Your legions rally! hark Misenus sounds,
Greeks to the battle! ev'ry hero bounds!
Leaders, advance! address your men of fame,
Call on your warriors by god-like name!
O bright Minerva, goddess of the day,
Grant to thy servants strength to cut their way!
O Mars, great Mars! yon ranks of Trojan foe,
Grant we may prosper in their overthrow!
Ye sons of war, by every noble tie,
I bid you combat, tremble not to die.
By all the hecatombs of holy fire!
By all the honor of a Grecian sire!
By all the victories your swords have won!
By all the deeds your ancestors have done!
By Helen's charms! ye suitors, by your vow!
I bid ye rise! and show your vengeance now.
Ye warriors, who hold your honor'd lives,
As dearly precious as your loving wives,
The gods above have seen the Grecian fame,
And now avenge your Menelaus' shame!
Come then, advance! let ev'ry soldier feel,
As sharp in battle as his well-tried steel,
Behold the foe, and where ye make your stand,
Step on a step, or lay ye on the land.
Hand to the hilt, the body to the sword,
Greeks, be ye Greeks, by gods and men adored!
Yon host advancing, bids ye to the car!
Your legions rally! hark Misenus sounds,
Greeks to the battle! ev'ry hero bounds!
Leaders, advance! address your men of fame,
Call on your warriors by god-like name!
O bright Minerva, goddess of the day,
Grant to thy servants strength to cut their way!
O Mars, great Mars! yon ranks of Trojan foe,
Grant we may prosper in their overthrow!
Ye sons of war, by every noble tie,
I bid you combat, tremble not to die.
By all the hecatombs of holy fire!
By all the honor of a Grecian sire!
By all the victories your swords have won!
By all the deeds your ancestors have done!
By Helen's charms! ye suitors, by your vow!
I bid ye rise! and show your vengeance now.
Ye warriors, who hold your honor'd lives,
As dearly precious as your loving wives,
The gods above have seen the Grecian fame,
And now avenge your Menelaus' shame!
Come then, advance! let ev'ry soldier feel,
As sharp in battle as his well-tried steel,
Behold the foe, and where ye make your stand,
Step on a step, or lay ye on the land.
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Greeks, be ye Greeks, by gods and men adored!
Such was the spirit when the gods inspir'd,
And heroes slew till fairly they were tired;
'Tis mighty well, to traverse o'er a plain,
And cut down thousands, then to cut again;
'Tis mighty well! but blood of ancient fray,
Ne'er flew so freely as of later day.
Think what has flown within the last few years,
Ye know me not a coward, I've no fears!
But were I mad, I'd strike the hostile blow,
And glory in the slaughter of the foe;
O I would bear me bravely on my steed,
My arm should strike or I would nobly bleed;
War should be mine, be made for man or me;
I am not mad! but christian-like am free.
And heroes slew till fairly they were tired;
'Tis mighty well, to traverse o'er a plain,
And cut down thousands, then to cut again;
'Tis mighty well! but blood of ancient fray,
Ne'er flew so freely as of later day.
Think what has flown within the last few years,
Ye know me not a coward, I've no fears!
But were I mad, I'd strike the hostile blow,
And glory in the slaughter of the foe;
O I would bear me bravely on my steed,
My arm should strike or I would nobly bleed;
War should be mine, be made for man or me;
I am not mad! but christian-like am free.
But what of Greece? Let Grecian poet tell,
How luxury destroy'd her. Ah, 'tis well!
There scarce was one who fought for Helen's name,
That was not blind to passions much the same.
What virtue mov'd in great Achilles' breast?
A libertine was he;—and what at best—
Save here and there a solitary man,
Nestor or Hector,—every ancient clan?
But what of Greece? A church was planted there,
And flourished freely 'neath the christian care;
When Rome had vanquish'd them, though Grecians fell
More by their indolence than foeman's spell,
A christian church was planted in their land,
And Greeks were free! their freedom is at hand.
But where is Greece, or Rome, or haughty Spain?
Where are their glories? Will they come again?
Their nobles linked in chains of slavish pride,
Revelled in luxury and shame defied!
Gamesters, and what—I will not stain the line,
Pollution foster'd them, they now repine.
Greeks as they were; Italians Romans were;
Greeks, Romans, Spaniards, tell me what they are?
Corruption came, reduced them in the scale,
Corruption cannot very long prevail;
Where now is Babylon? Egyptian fame?
Where now is Ninevah? they have but name!
Where are the Greeks? O England, shame to say,
Thou hast been backward, backward in the day,
When foremost bravely in a noble work,
Ye might have spoken boldly to the Turk.
Was it through gratitude, distaste of war,
Ye let the infidel proceed so far?
Or was it as Franciscan friar saith,
Your noble reverence for christian faith?
When christians care not for a christian brother,
How keep they faith with any or each other.
How luxury destroy'd her. Ah, 'tis well!
There scarce was one who fought for Helen's name,
That was not blind to passions much the same.
What virtue mov'd in great Achilles' breast?
A libertine was he;—and what at best—
Save here and there a solitary man,
Nestor or Hector,—every ancient clan?
240
And flourished freely 'neath the christian care;
When Rome had vanquish'd them, though Grecians fell
More by their indolence than foeman's spell,
A christian church was planted in their land,
And Greeks were free! their freedom is at hand.
But where is Greece, or Rome, or haughty Spain?
Where are their glories? Will they come again?
Their nobles linked in chains of slavish pride,
Revelled in luxury and shame defied!
Gamesters, and what—I will not stain the line,
Pollution foster'd them, they now repine.
Greeks as they were; Italians Romans were;
Greeks, Romans, Spaniards, tell me what they are?
Corruption came, reduced them in the scale,
Corruption cannot very long prevail;
Where now is Babylon? Egyptian fame?
Where now is Ninevah? they have but name!
Where are the Greeks? O England, shame to say,
Thou hast been backward, backward in the day,
When foremost bravely in a noble work,
Ye might have spoken boldly to the Turk.
Was it through gratitude, distaste of war,
Ye let the infidel proceed so far?
Or was it as Franciscan friar saith,
Your noble reverence for christian faith?
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How keep they faith with any or each other.
'Tis past! but other things will come to pass,
Stability no doubt will keep the mass;
But take the warning Britons, Christians too,
Do as ye would, ye would have others do.
Look sharp at home!—When nobles, men of fame,
Statesmen and senators, all men of name,
For gambling lust, and lusting more for pride,
The good of others feelingly deride;
When warriors in tinsel pomp arrayed,
Seek but the glory of a vain parade;
When joint-stock companies for cent per cent,
From noble patrons take the gambling bent;
And sad luxurious, enervating schemes,
Fill with debauchery their midnight dreams;
When wisdom sleeps, and virtue has but name,
Where will be glory? where be England's fame?
Stability no doubt will keep the mass;
But take the warning Britons, Christians too,
Do as ye would, ye would have others do.
Look sharp at home!—When nobles, men of fame,
Statesmen and senators, all men of name,
For gambling lust, and lusting more for pride,
The good of others feelingly deride;
When warriors in tinsel pomp arrayed,
Seek but the glory of a vain parade;
When joint-stock companies for cent per cent,
From noble patrons take the gambling bent;
And sad luxurious, enervating schemes,
Fill with debauchery their midnight dreams;
When wisdom sleeps, and virtue has but name,
Where will be glory? where be England's fame?
O call the Poet, mad dissembling fool,
Brought up at home in hypocritic school;
Call him a knave, a pedant, what you will,
You cannot silence him unless you kill;
For no contempt, nor any human scorn,
Cares he one atom,—he is free—free-born;
Nor cares he either whilst he lives on earth,
To leave this place the province of his birth.
Still will he cry to christians of the land,
Be good at heart, for glory is at hand;
Remember Greece! Of Babylon beware!
Greeks what they were! O see them as they are!
Brought up at home in hypocritic school;
Call him a knave, a pedant, what you will,
You cannot silence him unless you kill;
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Cares he one atom,—he is free—free-born;
Nor cares he either whilst he lives on earth,
To leave this place the province of his birth.
Still will he cry to christians of the land,
Be good at heart, for glory is at hand;
Remember Greece! Of Babylon beware!
Greeks what they were! O see them as they are!
| Valentine Verses | |