The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1870-11-03

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 conqueror;
In dreams, his song Of triumph heard:
Then wore his mOnarch's signet ring;
Then pressed that monarch's throne, king;
AS WHO ms thoughts and gay of wing,
AS Eden's garden-bird.
At midnight, in the forest shades,
BozzaTis ranged his Sullote band,
True as the steel of their tried blades,
Heroes in heart and hand
There, had the Persiah's thousan6s stood;
There, had the glad earth drank their blood,
On old Platea's day:
And now there brcathed 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 sentries shrek,
TO arms! they come! the Greek the Greek !
lie woke, to die midst flame and smoke,
And shout, and groan, and saber-strOke,
And death-shots falling thick and fast,
AS lightnings from the mountain-cloud;
And heard, with Voiee rs trumpet loud,
Bozzaris cheer his band
"Strike! till the last armed foe expires;
strike for your affairs and your fires
Godi and your native land y
They fought like brave men, long and well
They piled that ground with Moslem slain
They conquered BozZariS fell
Bleeding at every vein.
His few surviving comrades saw
His smile, when rang their proud hurrah,
And the red field was won;
Then saw in death his eyelids close,
Calmly, as to nights repose,
Like fiowcrs at set OF sun.
Come to the bridal-chamber, Death
Come to the mother, 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 wall Its stroke;
Come in consumption's CHASTITY form,
The earthquakes shock, the oceans storm,
Come when the heart beats high and warm,
With banquet, song, and dance, and wine,
And thou art terrible-the tear,
The, groan, the kmell, the pail, the bier,
And all we know, or dream, or fear
Or 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 to be.
Come, when his task of fame is wrought
Come, with her Laurel leaf blood bought
Come in her croWnihg h6uic-and then
10 him as welcome as the sight
or sky and stars to prsOn'd men:
Thy grasp Is welcome as the hand
OF brother in a foreign land;
Thy summons welcome as the cry
That told the Indian Isles were nigh
To the world-seeking GcnOeSe,
When the lund-wind from woods Of palm,
And orange-groves, and fields of balm,
Blew DER the Haytien seas.
Bozzaris! with the storied brave,
Greece nurtured in her glory's prime,
Rest thee; there is no prOuder grave,
Even in her own proud CLINE.
She wore no funeral weeds for thee,
Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume,
Like torn branch from deaths lcaflcss 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 wTeathed,
Her marble wrought, her music breathed;
For thee she rings her birthday bells;
OF thee her babes fist lisping tells;
For thine her evening prayer is said
At palace couch, and t0ttHge bed;
Her soldier, closing with the foe,
Gives for thy sake a deadler 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
Is read the grief she will not speak,
The memory of her buried joys,
And even she who gave thee birth,
viii, by their bllErim-ciTcled hearth,
Talk of thy doom without sigh,
For thou art freedoms now, and Fame's,
One of the few, the immortal names,
That were not born to die.