The flowers still bloom in fair Ionia’s isles ;
On Marathon the summer sun still smiles ;
The zephyr in the balmy evening breathes,
And sighs and whispers o’er fair flow’ry wreaths ;
The nightingale, from waving cypress boughs.
Pours to the blushing rose melodious vows ;—
But yet a something breathes throughout the scene,
That says, more lovely still it once hath been ; —
A something, like the sad dejected air
That hangs around fond beauty in despair.
Oh, Greece ! what is it makes thy present state
So beautiful, — and yet so desolate ?
Renders thy sons so servile and so weak,
And steals the rose from every daughter’s cheek,
And makes thee—tho’ so lovely—only seem
The fading image of some glorious dream ?
Yet why enquire ? I’ve but to look around,
To see thy sons in foreign fetters bound,
To see those once brave spirits now so tame,
Wounded and broken—Grecian but in name ;—
To see the gath’ring weeds that freely wave
Above the tomb of thy departed brave ;—
To see the ivy that uncultur’d twines
Around thy ruin’d fanes, and mouldering shrines ;—
To look on temples, time had spared, defaced
By ruthless hands, and by the Turk laid waste ;—
These to the question silently reply,
For but one glance thrown o’er them,—” Tyranny !”
And it is so.— Upon thy Marathon,
Where once thy valour nobly, proudly, shone,
Now the insulting Moslem casts his chain,
And thy sons crouch submissive to his reign.
And where is Sparta ?—Where is Sparta’s King
Low in the dust they both are mouldering.
Nought but her ruins stand, — and the wild grass
Grows o’er the grave of her Leonidas.
And Athens too, where fair Minerva reign’d
Where eloquent Demosthenes enchain’d
The list’ning ear,—where glorious Phocion spoke ;—
Is she too sunk beneath the oppressor’s yoke?
No—not quite fall’n: but ah, how sadly changed
By Moslem feet her marble pavement ranged :—
Her heroes and her orators are gone
And there insensibly she moulders on.
Departed days of grandeur and of bliss !
Are ye and all your greatness come to this ?
Rise ! rise, ye Grecians ! burst the servile yoke,
And break your fetters, as your fathers broke.
Oh think upon your sires’ “Thermopylae ;—
And make a glorious effort to be free !”
Oh, Grecia ! cease beneath thy foes to weep ;—
Thy spirits are not dead—they only sleep ;
And they will rise and wipe away thy tears,
And Liberty will reign thro’ future years.
Yes !—they will rouse themselves, and every nerve
Be strain’d to crush the tyrants that they serve ;
And thou shalt break, at length thy galling chain,
Shake off those tyrants,—and be Greece again !
(Mary Anne Browne)
More Poetry from Mary Anne Browne:
Mary Anne Browne Poems based on Topics: Fairness, Sadness, Beauty, Time, Summer, Name, Happiness, Tyranny & Despotism- Ocean : Gratefully Inscribed to Mr. Linfitt of Burnham Academy (Mary Anne Browne Poems)
- Mont Blanc (Mary Anne Browne Poems)
- St. Mark's Eve - A Fragment (Mary Anne Browne Poems)
- Luke XVIII. 42. (Mary Anne Browne Poems)
- Loves (Mary Anne Browne Poems)
- Stanzas to Mary (Mary Anne Browne Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Sadness Poems, Time Poems, Fairness Poems, Name Poems, Beauty Poems, Happiness Poems, Summer Poems, Tyranny & Despotism PoemsBased on Keywords: insensibly, moulders, ear-, thermopylae, leonidas, grecians, moslem, ionia, demosthenes, grecia, uncultur
- Lamia. Part II (John Keats Poems)
- Hudibras - The Lady's Answer to The Knight (Samuel Butler Poems)
- A Congratulatory Epistle From His Holiness The Pope To The Reverend Dr. Snape (Nicholas Amhurst Poems)
- Bristowe Tragedie: Or The Dethe Of Syr Charles Badwin (Thomas Chatterton Poems)
- Queen Mab: Part V. (Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems)