Alexandria gazette. [volume] (Alexandria, D.C.) 1834-1974, 1834-09-10
MARCO BOZZARIS.
BY rIrz GREENE HALLEcK.

MARCO BOLLARlS.
BY rrrz GREENE HALLECK.
At midnight, in his guarded tent,
The Turk was dreaming of the hour
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,
Should tremble at~his power
In dreams. through camp and court, he bore
The trophies of a conqueror:
In dreams his song of triumph heard;
Then wore his monarch's signet 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 glades,
Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band,
True as the steel OF their tried blades,
Heroes n-heart and hand.
There had the Persian's thousands stood,
There had the glad earth drunk their blood
On old Plataas day;
And now there breathed 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 pass'd on-The Turk awoke;
That bright dream was his last;
He woke-to hear his sentries shrek,
',To armsl they come! the Greek. the Greek"
He woke-to die midst flame, and smoke,
And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke,
And death shots falling thick and fast
As lightnngs from the mountain cloud;
And heard with voice as trumpet loud,
BozZaris cheer his band
HStrike-tll the last armd foe expires;
Strike-for your affairs and your fires;
Strike-ior the green graves OF your slres;
God-and your native land!'
They fought-like brave men, long ana
well;
Thew oiled that ground with MoSlem slain;
They conauer'd-but Bozzaris fell,
Bleeding at every vein.
His few surviving comrades saw
His smile when rang their proud hurrah,
And the red field was won;
They saw in death his eyeildS close
Calmly. as TO a nights repose,
Like flowers at set of sun.
Come 10 the bridal chamber, Death!
Come 10 the mothers, when she feels,
For the first time, her first borns breath;
Come when the blessed seals
That close the peStilence are broke,
And crowded cities vail its stroke;
Come in conSumption'S ghastly form,
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm;
Come when the heart beats high and warm,
With banauet-Song, and dance, and wine;
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 oc millions yet to be.
Come when his task of fame is wrought
Come when her laurel-leaf blood-bought-
Come in her browning hour and then
Thy sunken eyes unearthly light
To him is welcome as the sight
OF sky and stars 10 prison'd men:
Thy grasp is welcome as the hand
OF brother in foreign land:
'Thy summons welcome as the cry
That told the Indian isles were nigh
To the word-seeking Genoese,
When the land wind, from woods OF palm,
And orange groves, and fields of balm,
Blew DER the Haytian seas.
Rozzaris. with the stored brave
Greece nurtured in her glory's time,
Rest thee-there is no prouder grave,
Even in her own proud CLINE.
She wore no funeral weeds Tor thee,
Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume,
7 Ito torn branch from deaths leafleSS tree,
I'm sorrows pomp and pageantry,
The heartless luxury OF the tomb:
But She remembers thee as one
Long loved, and for season gone:
For thee hcr poets lyi - "'1oH'"' 81, d,
Her marble wrought, her music breathed,
For thee she rings her birthday bells;
of thee her baDes' first liSping tells;
For thine her evening prayer is said
At palace couch, and cottage bed;
Her soldier, closing with the Zoe,
Gives for thy sake deadlier blow;
His plighted maiden when she fears,
For him. the Joy of her young years,
Thinks OF thy fate, and checks her tears
And She the mother of thy boys,
Though in her eye and faded cheek
l. read the grief she will not speak,
The memor, of her buried joys,
And even she who gave thee birth,
viii, by their pilgrim circled hearth,
Talk of thy doom without sigh;
For thou art freedoms now, and Fames;
One of the few, the immortal names,
That were not born TO die.