Hear'st thou the rattling of spears on the right? Seest thou the gleam in the sky? The gods come to aid the Greeks in the fight, And the favoring heroes are nigh. The lion's hide I see in the sky, And the knotted club so fell, And kingly Theseus's conquering eye, And Maca'ria, nymph of the well. [Footnote: The nymph Macaria, daughter of Hercules, was said to have a fountain on the field of Marathon. There is a well near the north end of the plain, where the fountain is supposed to have been.] Purely, purely, the fount did flow, When the morn's first radiance shone; But eve shall know the crimson flow Of its wave, by Marathon. On, son of Cimon, bravely on! [Footnote: Milti'ades, the general in command, whose father's name was Cimon.] And Aristides the just! Your names have made the field your own, Your foes are in the dust! The Lydian satrap spurs his steed, The Persian's bow is broken: His purple pales; the vanquished Mede Beholds the angry token Of thundering Jove, who rules above; And the bubbling marshes moan [Footnote: There are two extensive marshes on the plain of Marathon, one at each extremity. The Persians were driven back into the marsh at the north end.] With the trampled dead that have found their bed In gore, at Marathon. The ships have sailed from Marathon On swift disaster's wings; And an evil dream hath fetched a groan From the heart of the king of kings. An eagle he saw, in the shades of night, With a dove that bloodily strove; And the weak hath vanquished the strong in fight, The eagle hath fled from the dove. [Footnote: Reference is here made to A-tos'sa's dream, as given by Æschylus in his tragedy of The Persians.] Great Jove, that reigns in the starry plains, To the heart of the king hath shown That the boastful parade of his pride was laid In dust at Marathon. But through Pentelicus' winding vales The hymn triumphal runs, And high-shrined Athens proudly hails Her free-returning sons. And Pallas, from her ancient rock, [Footnote: Pallas, or Minerva.] With her shield's refulgent round, Blazes; her frequent worshippers flock, And high the pæans sound, How in deathless glory the famous story Shall on the winds be blown, That the long-haired Mede was driven with speed By the Greeks, from Marathon.