Themistocles
The flame yet burns, and other wit
Shall mend the weapon, claiming it.
Shall mend the weapon, claiming it.
He who is wronged and bears his wrong
As though a crown were given him,
Within his soul is no life strong,
His lamp is quenched, his strength is dim—
Have the gods given for evil good,
Or unrevengefully pursued
Blasphemy with beatitude?
As though a crown were given him,
Within his soul is no life strong,
His lamp is quenched, his strength is dim—
Have the gods given for evil good,
Or unrevengefully pursued
Blasphemy with beatitude?
Oh! Greece, remember Marathon—
Behold again the mighty host
Dispelled—the immeasurable won—
The giant army crushed and lost—
Still wild, despairing on your ears
Falls their last cry—and lo! your spears
Shall speed your glory through all years!
Behold again the mighty host
Dispelled—the immeasurable won—
The giant army crushed and lost—
Still wild, despairing on your ears
Falls their last cry—and lo! your spears
Shall speed your glory through all years!
101
