The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 3 | Page 8

published, _Life_, 1830.]
MAID OF ATHENS, ERE WE PART.[n]
[Greek: Z?ê/ mou, sa~s a)gap?~.]
1.
Maid of Athens,[10] ere we part,?Give, oh give me back my heart!?Or, since that has left my breast,?Keep it now, and take the rest!?Hear my vow before I go,?[Greek: Z?ê/ mou, sa~s a)gap?~.][11]
2.
By those tresses unconfined,?Wooed by each ?gean wind;?By those lids whose jetty fringe?Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge;?By those wild eyes like the roe,?[Greek: Z?ê/ mou, sa~s a)gap?~.]
3.
By that lip I long to taste;?By that zone-encircled waist;?By all the token-flowers[12] that tell?What words can never speak so well;?By love's alternate joy and woe,?[Greek: Z?ê/ mou, sa~s a)gap?~.]
4.
Maid of Athens! I am gone:?Think of me, sweet! when alone.?Though I fly to Istambol,[13]?Athens holds my heart and soul:?Can I cease to love thee? No!?[Greek: Z?ê/ mou, sa~s a)gap?~.]
_Athens_, 1810.
[First published, _Childe Harold_, 1812 (4to).]
FRAGMENT FROM THE "MONK OF ATHOS."[14]
1.
Beside the confines of the ?gean main,
Where northward Macedonia bounds the flood,?And views opposed the Asiatic plain,
Where once the pride of lofty Ilion stood,?Like the great Father of the giant brood,
With lowering port majestic Athos stands,?Crowned with the verdure of eternal wood,
As yet unspoiled by sacrilegious hands,?And throws his mighty shade o'er seas and distant lands.
2.
And deep embosomed in his shady groves
Full many a convent rears its glittering spire,?Mid scenes where Heavenly Contemplation loves
To kindle in her soul her hallowed fire,?Where air and sea with rocks and woods conspire
To breathe a sweet religious calm around,?Weaning the thoughts from every low desire,
And the wild waves that break with murmuring sound?Along the rocky shore proclaim it holy ground.
3.
Sequestered shades where Piety has given
A quiet refuge from each earthly care,?Whence the rapt spirit may ascend to Heaven!
Oh, ye condemned the ills of life to bear!
As with advancing age your woes increase,?What bliss amidst these solitudes to share
The happy foretaste of eternal Peace,?Till Heaven in mercy bids your pain and sorrows cease.
[First published in the _Life of Lord Byron_,
by the Hon. Roden Noel, London, 1890, pp. 206, 207.]
LINES WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE.[15]
1.
Dear object of defeated care!?Though now of Love and thee bereft,?To reconcile me with despair?Thine image and my tears are left.
2.
'Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope;?But this I feel can ne'er be true:?For by the death-blow of my Hope?My Memory immortal grew.
_Athens, January_, 1811.
[First published, _Childe Harold_, 1812 (4to).]
TRANSLATION OF THE FAMOUS GREEK WAR SONG,?[Greek: "Deu~te pai~des t?~n E(llê/n?n."][16]
Sons of the Greeks, arise!?The glorious hour's gone forth,?And, worthy of such ties,?Display who gave us birth.
CHORUS.
Sons of Greeks! let us go?In arms against the foe,?Till their hated blood shall flow?In a river past our feet.
Then manfully despising?The Turkish tyrant's yoke,?Let your country see you rising,?And all her chains are broke.?Brave shades of chiefs and sages,?Behold the coming strife!?Hellénes of past ages,?Oh, start again to life!?At the sound of my trumpet, breaking?Your sleep, oh, join with me!?And the seven-hilled city[17] seeking,?Fight, conquer, till we're free.
Sons of Greeks, etc.
Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers?Lethargic dost thou lie??Awake, and join thy numbers?With Athens, old ally!?Leonidas recalling,?That chief of ancient song,?Who saved ye once from falling,?The terrible! the strong!?Who made that bold diversion?In old Thermopyl?,?And warring with the Persian?To keep his country free;?With his three hundred waging?The battle, long he stood,?And like a lion raging,?Expired in seas of blood.
Sons of Greeks, etc.
[First published, _Childe Harold_, 1812 (4to).]
TRANSLATION OF THE ROMAIC SONG,
[Greek: "Mpe/n? mes' to\ peribo/li,]
[Greek: ?(raiota/tê Chaêdê/," k.t.l.][18]
I enter thy garden of roses,?Belovéd