. The poetical works of Fitz-Greene Halleck : Now first collected ; illustrated with steel engravings, from drawings by American artists . ing of the hourWhen Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power :In dreams, through camp and court, he boreThe trophies of a conqueror; In dreams his song of triumph heard ;Then wore his monarchs signet ring:Then pressed that monarchs throne—a king;As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Edens garden bird. 20 MARCO BOZZARIS. At midnight, in the forest shades, Bozza^is ranged his Suliote band,True as the steel of their tried blades, He
. The poetical works of Fitz-Greene Halleck : Now first collected ; illustrated with steel engravings, from drawings by American artists . ing of the hourWhen Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power :In dreams, through camp and court, he boreThe trophies of a conqueror; In dreams his song of triumph heard ;Then wore his monarchs signet ring:Then pressed that monarchs throne—a king;As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Edens garden bird. 20 MARCO BOZZARIS. At midnight, in the forest shades, Bozza^is ranged his Suliote band,True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and had the Persians thousands stood,There had the glad earth drunk their blood On old Platseas day ;And now there breathed that haunted airThe sons of sires who conquered there,With arm to strike, and soul to dare, As quick, as far as they. An hour passed on—the Turk awoke; That bright dream was his last;He woke—to hear his sentries shriek, To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek !He woke—to die midst flame, and smoke,And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, And death shots falling thick and fast. MARCO BOZZARIS. 21 As lightnings from the mountain cloud ;And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band : Strike—till the last armed foe expires ;Strike—for your altars and your fires ;Strike—for the green graves of your sires ; God—and your native land ! They fought—like brave men, long and well; They piled that ground with Moslem slain,They conquered—but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every few surviving comrades sawHis smile when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won ;Then saw in death his eyelids closeCalmly, as to a nights repose, Like flowers at set of sun. 22 MARCO BOZZARIS Come to the bridal chamber, Death ! Come to the mothers, when she feels,For the first time, her first-borns breath; Come when the blessed sealsThat close the pestilence are broke,And crowded cities wail its stroke ;Come in co
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