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"Songs by the Way"
The Poetical Writings of the Right Rev. George Washington Doane, D.D., LL.D.

Arranged and Edited by His Son, William Croswell Doane

New York: D. Appleton, 1860.


Deute, paideV twn Ellhnwn.

"SONS of the Greeks, arise!"
     And gird your armour on;
Your bleeding country's rights assert,
     Avenge your fathers' wrong.
Sons of the helméd brave
     Who held Thermopylae,
Dare, as they dared, the turbaned slave,
     And Greece shall yet be free.

Shades of the brave, who bled
     Along Cithaeron's steep,
And still, round glory's hallowed bed,
     Your watch of ages keep;
Say--shall yon tower-crowned hill
     No more be Freedom's home?
Her flag, no more, in triumph float,
     Amid yon ocean's foam?

Yes! soon again as pure,
     Ilissus' wave shall flow,
And soon, on famed Hymettus' hills,
     As fragrant flowers shall blow
For freedom's sun shall rise
     On Attica once more,
And wind and wave, shall lash and lave,
     The free Aegean shore.

Shades of the mighty dead,
     Whose ashes still repose,
Where Oeta rears his star-girt head,
     Where cold Eurotas flows,
Inspire each patriot's heart,
     To dare, as you have dared,
Till nerved, be every manly arm,
     And every falchion bared.

Light, light the quenchless flame,
     In every warrior's eye;
Rouse, rouse the glorious battle-cry,
     For Greece--for Victory!
Nor let the combat cease,
     While Moslem shall remain
To mar fair Freedom's festal rites,
     Her heritage, to stain.

Hark! 'tis the trumpet's clang,
     The squadron's tramp, I hear;
Clashes, the bright broadsword, again,
     And ring, the shield and spear:
See! 'tis the pluméd helm,
     The banner streaming wide;
The Athenian horsemen mount again,
     And Spartan, side by side.

'Tis up--the glorious strife,
     By field, and tower, and town;
And palace, mosque, and minaret,
     And frowning fort, are down:
The Ottoman retreats,
     The Crescent veils its ray,
And holy hands, in Stamboul's streets
     The Cross of Christ display.

"Sons of the Greeks arise!"
     Rise in your fathers' might,
With sword girt on, and spear in rest,
     Wage Freedom's holy fight;
Swear--'twas the father's oath,
     And well befits the son--
Swear, free to live, or firm to die,
     "By those in Marathon!"

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