HE who hath bent him o"er the dead, Ere the first day of death is fled- Before Decay"s effacing fingersHave swept the lines where beauty lingers And marked the mild, angelic air,The rapture of repose that"s there- The fixed, yet tender traits, that streak The languor of the placid cheek;And-but for that sad, shrouded eye, That fires not, wins not, weeps not now; And but for that chill, changeless brow,Where cold obstruction"s apathy Appals the gazing mourner"s heart, As if to him it could impartThe doom he dreads, yet dwells upon; -Yes, but for these, and these alone,Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour, He still might doubt the tyrant"s power; So fair, so calm, so softly sealed,The first, last look, by Death revealed!
We start-for soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in deathThat parts not quite with parting breath; But beauty with that fearful bloom,That hue which haunts it to the tomb- Expression"s last receding ray,A gilded halo hovering round decay-The farewell beam of feeling passed away!
Spark of that flame, that flame of heavenly birth,Which gleams, but warms no more its cherished earth!
Clime of the unforgotten brave!
Whose land from plain to mountain cave Was freedom"s home, or glory"s grave! Shrine of the mighty! can it be,That this is all remains of thee? Approach, thou craven, crouching slave:
Say, is not this Thermop"yl??
These waters blue that round you lave,
O servile offspring of the free- Pronounce, what sea, what shore is this? - The gulf, the rock of Sal"amis!
These scenes, their story not unknown. Arise, and make again your own; Snatch from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires;And he who in the strife expires, Will add to theirs a name of fear That Tyranny shall quake to hear, And leave his sons a hope, a fame, They, too, will rather die than shame: For freedom"s battle, once begun, Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever won.
Bear witness, Greece, thy living page; Attest it, many a deathless age! While kings, in dusty darkness hid, Have left a nameless pyramid;Thy heroes, though the general doom Hath swept the column from their tomb, A mightier monument command-The mountains of their native land!
There points thy Muse to stranger"s eye The graves of those that cannot die! "Twere long to tell, and sad to trace, Each step from splendour to disgrace; Enough-no foreign foe could quell Thy soul, till from itself it fell;Yes! self-abasement paved the way To villain bonds and despot sway.
- BYRON
NOTES
① Living Greece no more.-At the time referred to in the poem, Greece was entirely subject to the Turks, as it had been for nearly three centuries, during which everything like national life had been well-nigh trodden out. The struggle for independence, in which Byron sacrificed his life, began in 1821.
② Thermopyl?, the famous pass in Thessaly where Leonidas and his three hundredSpartans bravely fell before the advancing tide of Persians.
③ Salamis, an island (mod. Koluri ) in the Saronic Gulf (the Sea of ?gina, or Athens), between which and the mainland of Attica the Persian fleet was defeated by Themistocles, 480 B. C.
④ From itself it fell-refers to the internal dissensions and civil wars which so weakened Greece that, in the second century B. C., she fell an easy prey to Rome.
