American watchman and Delaware advertiser., 1825-11-29


gbt attack upon the Turkish Campat Lasp, the 81,
e ancient Plataa, August 90, 1928, and expired in
omeht OF victory. His last words were-"To die
'erty is pleasure, and not pan.']
At midnight, in his guarded tent
The Turk was dreaming Of the hour
Wnen Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,
Should tremble at his power;
ln dreams, through camp and court, he bore
lhe trophies OF conqueror;
In dreams his song OF triumph heard
Then wore his monarcl's sgnet ring
Then press'd that monarch's throne-a king;
AS wild his thoughts and gay of wing,
AS Eden's garden bird.
AT midnight, in the forest shades,
Bozzars ranged his Suliote band,
True as the s'eel of their tried blades,
Heroes in heart and hand.
There had the Persian's thousands stood,
There had the glad earth drunk their blood
On old Plaea's day.
And AND now there breathd that haunted air,
The sons of sires who conquered there,
With arm to strike, and soul to dare,
As quick, as far as they.
An hour passed on-the Turk awoke
That bright dream was his last;
He woke-to hear his sentrcs shrek,
= 10 arms! they come the Greek the Greek .,
lie woke--to die midst fame, and smoke.
And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke,
And death.shots falling thick and fast
And heard with voice as trumpet loud,
Bozzars cheer his band:
Strlke--tiil the last armed foe expires,
Strike-for your affairs and your fires
Strlke-for the green graves of your sires,
God-and your native land!'
They fought-like brave men, long and well,
They piled the ground with Moslem slain,
They conquered-bui Bozzaris fell,
Bleeding at every vein.
His few surviving comrades saw
HIS smile when rang their proud huzzah
And the red field was won;
Then saw in death his eyeds close
Calmly, as to nights repose--
Like flowers at set of sun.
Come to the bridal chamber, Death
Come TO the mothers when she feels
For the first time her irst-born's breath;
Come when the blessed seals
Which close the pesence are broke,
And crowded cities wall its sroke
Come in consumpon's gastly form.
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm
Come when the heart beats high and warm,
With banquet song, and dance, and vine
And thou art terrible the tear,
The groan, the knell, the pail, the bier,
And all we know, or dream, or fear
OF agony, are thine.
But to the hero when his sword
Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds like prophets word,
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of millions yet 10 be.
Come when her task OF Fame is wrought
Come, with her laurelleaf blood-bought--
Come IN her crowning hour and then
Thy sunken eyes unearthly light
To him as welcome as the sight
OF sky and stars to prison'd men,
Thy grasp is welcome as the hand
of brother in foreign land;
Thy summons welcome as the cry
Which told the Indian isles were nigh
To the world seeking Genoese,
When the land wind, from wo, ds of palm.
And orange groves, and fields of balm,
Blew DER the Hayten seas
Bnzzaris! with the s,oried brave
Greece nuitured in her glory's time,
Rest thee-there is no prouder grave,
Even in Fer own proud clime
She wore no funeral weeds for thee,
Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume.
Like torn branch from deaths lealess tree,
In sorrows pomp, and pageantry,
The heartless luxury of the tomb;
But she remembers thee as one
Long loved, and for season gone
For thee her poets Tyre is wreah'd,
Her marble wrought, her music breath'd:
For thee she rings the birthday bells;
Ofthee her babes first lisping tells
For thine her evening prayer is said
At palace couch, and cottage bed
Her soldier, closing with the foe,
Gives for thy sake deader blow;
His plighted maiden, when she fears
For him the joy Of her young years,
Thinks ofthy fate, and checks her tears;
And she, the mother of thy boys,
Though in her eye and faded cheek
Is read the grief she will not speak,
The memory of her buried Joys;
And even she who gave thee Birth,
Will by their pgrim-circled hearth,
Talk ofthy doom without sigh
For thou art Freedoms now, and Fame,s-
One ofthe few, the immortal names,
That were not born to die. IT.
It would be an act gross injustice to the author oft
We magnificent Lyric, were to withhold the exprt
| OF our admiration of its extraordinary beauty.
SO sure, too, that in this instance at least we have do
ut is rare indeed in the annals of criticism we ba
en- an opinion from which not one of our readers W
any inclination to dissent.l
LEXINGTON BATTLE.
This memorable event occurred April 10Th, 177
may be considered the opening scene OF the "
ich gave US national independence. 1t will n