Richmond enquirer. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1815-1867, 1825-06-14
MARCO BOZZARIS,

THE Ep-mmoutIas OF modern Greece.--fe fell in a
ack upon the Turkish Camp al Laspi the site OF the
~. Ills last words we're" Tea die tor Liberty /, pi
not paint
at midnight, in hi. guarded tent
The Turk was dreaming OF the hour
Whca Greece, Der knee IA suppliauce bent,
Should iremLle at his power;
In dreams. through camp and court, he bore
The trophies Uf a conqueror;
Ia dream, his Song Of triumph heard;
Then his monaroh's sisnet ring
Thea pressed that monareh's hionc,-a king;
~, Wild his ,honsht', aud gay VI wing,
~ fleo'a garden bid
AT minisit m tn. tores; shades,
BOtrui, ranged hi Suliote band,
True AZ the steel Of their tried blades
Heroes IA heart and hand,
There had the PerSian's thousands Stood
There had the glad earth dtunk their bio.d,
On old Plat.ra', davi
And now there brsathed that haunteda't
The scu. Of sr-s vino conquered there,
With arm to strike, aud soul TO dare,
As quick, a. far a' they.
I'm hour passed or--she Turk awrnci
That bright dfeain was his last;
lie woke--te hear has .eptries shrek,
~To arms they come the Greek the tireek"'
lie xoke-to dic midst flame, and smoke,
Aud shout, and rroan, and sabre stroke,
Aud death shots f,lling thick and fast,
a, lightnings from the mountain cloudi
And heard, with voice a. trumpet loud,
Bollaris cheer his land;
"a Strike-,iu the last armed Zoe expires
s,rike--for your affairs aud your fi's',.
Strike--for the green graves OF your sres,
Gud---and our native land!
They fouvh,---,ike brave men, long and well,
Tb.y piled that ground with Mo,lem slain,
They cnnuucrc,l---but Dozzars TELL
bleeding nj every Vcin
His few surviving cOmrsde' saw
His smile WHEN rang their proud hurrah:
And the red field was won
Then saw in death his cyelds close
Calmly, a. toa nights rrPo'e,
Like flowers atset 81 sun.
Com, TO the bridal chamber, Death
Come 10 the mothers, when she frei:
For the first lime her hr,t-born's bi cath;
Come When the blessed seals
Which close the pestilenee are broke
Nn,l crowded cities wall its stroke;
come 10 con,umpuon's ghastly form,
.Thr ,arthnuake shock. the ocean storm;
,.one when the heart heats high aud warm.
with hanuuct-soUg, and dance, and wine
And ,huu art terrible; the tear,
Tine rroan. the knell, the pail, thu her,
AMI ali we know, dream, or lesT
Of agony, are thihe'
pu, to tLe hero, when his sword
Ia, won the battle for the free,
THY voice sounds like prophet, word,
And in its hollow tones are heard,
The thanks of millions yet to he.
Con,c when hi, ta.k Of Fame is wrought
Come. with her laurcl-leaf, blood bought
Come IN her Growing hour and then
Thy ,unkon ewes mccarthy light
To him "a welc oIne a. the sight
Cf.ky and stars to prEon"d men;
Thy grasp is welcome as the hand
of brother ia a foreign landi
rhy summons welcome asthe cry
Which told the Indian ISLES were nigh
70 the worLl-secSins Genocse,
When the .nd-wind, Il sn woods OF palm,
And orange groves, and fields CT balm,
Blew o',r the la! uen sea''
Boz7ari,! with thes,oried brave
Greece nurtured ia her glcriou. time,
Ret thee--therei Is 10 proudrE grave,
Even in her own proud CLINE.
She wore no funeral weed, toi thee
Nor babe the dark hesrse rave ITS plume.
Like torn branch from deaths ieahtsi tree,
In sorrows pomp, and psgeanty,
The heartless luxury OF the tomb
But ,he rene MIXERS thee as one
Long loved and for season gene.
For thee her poets Tyre /. wfeaihed,
Her marble wrought, her music brea,hed;
For thee size rings the birthday bellsj
or thee her bahe'. first Tipping tells;
For thine her evening prayer IS said
Atpalace couch, and cottage bed
Her soldier, closing with the foe,
Give, for thy sake deadler blowj
His plighted maiden, when she fears
FOR him, the Joy of her young year',
Think, of Thy fate, and ohecks her tears;
And she, the mother Of thy boys,
Though 10 her eve and faded cheek
lsread the grief she will no, speak,
The memory OF her hurried joys
And even she who gave tire birth,
Will by their pilgrim circled hearth,
Talk of thy doom without Sigh;
Fer thou Art Frecdoui's now, aud Fame's---
Que Of the few, the immortal names,
That we're ma: horn 90 die.