Poems
Yea, Greece, remember Marathon;
For now the Persian hosts advance.
Fallen you lie—disused, undone,
With none to work deliverance;
Now like a bleak wind from the North,
The gods' vast anger rageth forth!
Shall ye then stand against their wrath?
For now the Persian hosts advance.
Fallen you lie—disused, undone,
With none to work deliverance;
Now like a bleak wind from the North,
The gods' vast anger rageth forth!
Shall ye then stand against their wrath?
Ah, conquerors, muse a little while!
Your slaves, your soldiers, what are they
But blunted tools your hands beguile
To serve, to perish, or to slay?
How shall they serve you—ignorant, blind,
If some complete and mastering mind
Sways not their fickle ranks behind?
Your slaves, your soldiers, what are they
But blunted tools your hands beguile
To serve, to perish, or to slay?
How shall they serve you—ignorant, blind,
If some complete and mastering mind
Sways not their fickle ranks behind?
Cherish your leaders! What of them,
Your cherished leaders?—one there is
Your cherished leaders?—one there is
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