The Address Of Odusseus To The Greeks, At Thermpoylae, On The 20th Of July, 1822 Poem by Joanna Baillie

GRECIANS ! ye know what spot,
Decides to-day your lot--
Thermopylæ
Again must see
Blood wash away our blot.
The Lord has brought the spoil,
The victim to our toil--
What priest can falter
At Freedom's altar,
This blest, this hallow'd soil?

Now we have known the worst,
Retreat were doubly curst;
The life it saves
May tempt those slaves,--
Not Greeks, whose bonds are burst.
Let servile Dacia woo
The Northern Tartar's crew--
Alone our band
On Grecian land
Can keep the swords it drew.
Tho' Hellas, roused from sleep,
Resumes her native deep ,
On earth the foe
Must crouch as low,
Or Moslem matrons weep.
The tyrant's die is cast--
Greeks! swear it by the past ,--
The present hour
Which brings you power,--
The future bright at last.

Swear, since our patriarch's corse
Was freedom's gory source,
New wrongs endured,
Revenge secured,
Shall nerve your country's force.
Our country! would ye change her,
Tho' lured and left to danger,
For all the smiles
The Seven Isles
Boast from the ambiguous stranger?
St. Michael's diamond rays
Outshine not patriot's praise,
Unless that star
Displayed more far
'The pledge of happier days.'
Look at our glorious sky!--
A dome for those who die;
Before we quail,
Yon sun shall fail,
Which lights that canopy.

But, words for such as need 'em,
Rappors for those who read 'em--
Our foe, the Turk!
Victory, our work!
On , for the Cross and Freedom!