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Or to some toppling promontory proud Of solid tempest, whose black pyramid, Riven, overhangs the founts intensely bright


Of those dawn-tinted deluges of fire
Before their waves expire,

When heaven and earth are light, and only light
In the thunder-night!

VOICE (without)

Victory, victory! Austria, Russia, England,
And that tame serpent, that poor shadow, France,
Cry peace, and that means death when monarchs


Than Greeks. remain.

Ho, there! bring torches, sharpen those red stakes! These chains are light, fitter for slaves and poi

Kill, plunder, burn! let none


Alas for Liberty!

If numbers, wealth, or unfulfilling years,
Or fate, can quell the free!
Alas for Virtue! when

Torments, or contumely, or the sneers
Of erring judging men
Can break the heart where it abides!

Alas! if Love, whose smile makes this obscure world splendid,

Can change, with its false times and tides,

Like hope and terror
Alas for Love!

And Truth, who wanderest lone and unbefriended,

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If thou canst veil thy lie-consuming mirror
Before the dazzled eyes of Error,
Alas for thee! Image of the Above!


Repulse, with plumes from conquest torn,

Led the ten thousand from the limits of the morn Through many an hostile Anarchy !

At length they wept aloud and cried, "the sea! the sea!"

Through exile, persecution, and despair,

Rome was, and young Atlantis shall become,
The wonder, or the terror, or the tomb,

Of all whose step wakes Power lulled in her savage


But Greece was as a hermit child,

Whose fairest thoughts and limbs were built To woman's growth by dreams so mild

She knew not pain or guilt;

And now, O Victory, blush! and Empire, tremble,
When ye desert the free!
If Greece must be

A wreck, yet shall its fragments reassemble,
And build themselves again impregnably
In a diviner clime,

To Amphionic music, on some Cape sublime,
Which frowns above the idle foam of time.


Let the tyrants rule the desert they have made; Let the free possess the paradise they claim; Be the fortune of our fierce oppressors weighed With our ruin, our resistance, and our name!


Our dead shall be the seed of their decay,
Our survivors be the shadows of their pride,
Our adversity a dream to pass away,-

Their dishonor a remembrance to abide!

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VOICE (without)

Victory! Victory! the bought Briton sends
The keys of ocean to the Islamite.

Now shall the blazon of the cross be veiled,
And British skill, directing Othman might,
Thunder-strike rebel victory. Oh, keep holy
This jubilee of unrevengèd blood!
Kill, crush, despoil! Let not a Greek escape!

To a sunnier strand,

And follow Love's folding star
To the Evening land!


Darkness has dawned in the East

On the noon of time


The death birds descend to their feast,
From the hungry clime.

Let Freedom and Peace flee far



young moon has fed Her exhausted horn With the sunset's fire;

The weak day is dead,

But the night is not born;

And, like loveliness panting with wild desire,

While it trembles with fear and delight,
Hesperus flies from awakening night,

And pants in its beauty and speed with light
Fast-flashing, soft and bright.

Thou beacon of love! thou lamp of the free!
Guide us far, far

To climes where now, veiled by the ardor of


Thou art hidden

From waves on which weary Noon

Faints in her summer swoon,

Between kingless continents, sinless as Eden,
Around mountains and islands inviolably
Pranked on the sapphire sea.


Through the sunset of hope,
Like the shapes of a dream,

What Paradise islands of glory gleam!

Beneath Heaven's cope,

Their shadows more clear float by;

The sound of their oceans, the light of their


The music and fragrance their solitudes breathe, Burst like morning on dream, or like Heaven on death,

Through the walls of our prison;

And Greece, which was dead, is arisen!


The world's great age begins anew,
The golden years return,

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The earth doth like a snake renew

Her winter weeds outworn ;

Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam, Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.

A brighter Hellas rears its mountains
From waves serener far;

A new Peneus rolls his fountains

Against the morning-star.

Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep
Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep.

A loftier Argo cleaves the main,

Fraught with a later prize; Another Orpheus sings again,

And loves, and weeps, and dies. A new Ulysses leaves once more Calypso for his native shore.

Oh, write no more the tale of Troy,

If earth Death's scroll must be ! Nor mix with Laian rage the joy

Which dawns upon the free; Although a subtler Sphinx renew Riddles of death Thebes never knew.

Another Athens shall arise,
And to remoter time

Bequeath, like sunset to the skies,
The splendor of its prime;

And leave, if nought so bright may live,
All earth can take or Heaven can give.

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