THE TOMBS OF PLATÆA.
285
Here should no voice, no sound, be heard,
Until the bonds of Greece be riven,
Save of the leader's charging word,
Or the shrill trumpet, pealing up through heaven!
Rest in your silent homes, ye brave!
No vines festoon your lonely tree*[1]!
No harvest o'er your war-field wave,
Till rushing winds proclaim—the land is free!
- ↑ * A single tree appears in Mr. Williams's impressive picture.
