The times dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1903-1914, 1904-07-15

gust 70 issa With 200 men he attacked 1000 turks
10 died in the hour q victory 1us'"s
rs FIJI "
4 II MIDNIGHT, s4n his guarded tent, y a # 8
IN The Turk was dreaming Of the hour
@AWhcn Greece. her knee in suppliance bent,
Should tremble at his power;
In dreams through camp and court, he bore
Tho trophies OF n copaucror: Nj
III dreams his song OF triumph heard
Then wore his monnrchs signct.ring;
I Then prcss'd that monnrch's throne--a king;
AS wild his thoughts. and gay OF wing. q.
g4t AS Edens garden. bird. i3 aa
"a t midnight, In the forest shades. 855 5
Nh Bozznl:s ranged ibis Suliote band, Es! 5
B True as the steel OF their tried blndcs.
6 Heroes In heart and hand. 81. III
There had the Persians thousands stood, Si$
There had the glad earth drunk their blood. s5.
On old SPlataca's day: i5.5
4 And now there brcathcd hntlhnunted air
The sons OF sres who conquered there. 45s i35s
With arms to strife and soul to dare.
AS quick. as far as they. a3 l4
An hour pa ST. on. the Turk a woke 3 Il s
if That bright dream was his last ss sS3 s5a
4 He wose--to hear his sentres shrek,
ITO arms they comet the Greek! the Grcek!''S
Il He woke--to die midst flame and smoke
And shout and groan and sabre-stroke, 3as
g And dcath-shots falling thick "a nd FAST Kill
As lIghtnings from the o,inta In loud SIS.
And heard. With voice as trumpet loud. ~ 81
BozzarIs8 cheer his band:
3&"strke-till tile last armed foe expires: B
Strike for your affairs and your fires:
Strike-for6 the green graves OF your stres;
God--and your native la nd ~
4 They Tough like brave men. long and well;
Il They piled that ground With Moslem slain:
They conquered--bu Eozza ris fell, 5 HIGH
3sS} Bleeding at every vein.
His few, surviving comrades saw
His smile when rang their proud hurrah. II
ls s3 S And tho red field was won;
4 They saw In deaf h his eyeldE close HIS
& Calmly as to a night $ srepose. 5s
Like flowers a t set OF sun. t ts g
4 Come to tho burial cha mber, Death. s
Come to the m lot her 8. when she feels.
Z For the first time, her frst-born's breath
Come when the blessed seals III
That close the pestilence are broke, S
And crowded cities wall Its Is troke
Come In consurnpt Ions ghas forrl, i3s
The earthquake shock. the ocean storm. MI
Come when the heart beats high and va rrn, .5
#s With banauet-song nd dance and wine N 3S
And thou art terrible-thes tear.
The Eroan. the. knell, the pal the bier;
And all we know or dream. or fear sST538
OF agony arc thine S{ #s
But 10 the hero when his sword
Has won the battle for the free
THY voice sounds like a prophets word MI
y And IN It's hollow tones are heard
$B@ The thanks Of mil lions yet to be. I88
Come. when Ills task of fame Us wrong
Come. with the laurel-e Leaf, blood bough
Como in her GROWING nd then
Thy s,lnken eyes Sune earthly light s3f 53
a To him Is welcome as the sight #gs tf$
3 or sky and stars TO pris nd men;
Thy grasp Is welcome as the hand n;
or brother INA foreign land; sssa
Il Thy. summons welcome as tho cry y
{ That told the Indian isles were nigh sG
Ito the world seeking tienocse.
he Ia nd nd woods
And orange groves and fields OF balm. 81 :Ss
Blew oerHthe IIaytian seas 5 s5585
Bozzaris withsthe stored brave Ss $
Greece 1nurtnred in her glory's time, s
Rest thee--tliere Is no proudcr5 Grave
q Even In her own proud cline. IA
/ She wore no funeral weeds for thee ~
II Nor bade the dark Shearse wave Its plume, I
Il Like torn branch from deaths eafess tree S 53
In sorrows pomp and pagcantry, .asES
THE 6hea rtess luxury Of the tomb; 18 {5f
But she remembers thee sassone 5s$5
Long loved, and for a. season gone; IA
For thee her 3poets Tyre Is ,wreat hed. III "a 81
Her marble wrought, her music breathed s
For thee she rings he birthday bells n # 5lS
OF thee her babes first splng tells; As
For thine her evening prayersis said
AT palace EcouchHand cottage bed n t
Her soldier closing with tie foe.
Gives for thy sake a. d5ler blow; 81 {
His pligbted maiden wien she fears 3.3 E
For him the JOY OF her young years
Thinks OF thy fate and checks her tears; 4
And she, the mother Of thy boys, ,is
Though In her eye a nd faded cheek S /.
Is read tho grief she will not speak, 3g
3 Tho memory Of l.sr buried joys II
And even she who gave thee BIRTH IN $ 3l
Viii. by their ri! rim rcled hearth.
a Talk OF thy doom without a sigh s 559 IL
For thou art Freedom 81 now, and Famc's al
one sof the few, tile immortal names
S5saa That were not born to die.
q ~