Whereupon Caliphronas sang that patriotic song, which was written by some modern Hellenic Tyrtæus during the War of Independence. Crispin afterwards translated it into the metre of Byron’s famous “Isles of Greece” for the benefit of Eunice, who was anxious to know the words which, clothed in their Greek garb, rang through the room like the inspiriting blare of a trumpet. “Thermopylæ! Thermopylæ! Give back your Spartan sons of yore, To raise the flag of liberty, And dye its folds in Turkish gore; Then will the crimson banner wave Above the freeman, not the slave. Arise, ye Greeks, and break your chains! By daring hearts is freedom won. Behold, the Moslem crescent wanes Before the rising Attic sun; Oh, let its golden beams be shed On chainless Greeks, and tyrants dead! Your fathers’ swords were laurel-wreathed, And wielded well by freemen brave; Why are your swords so idly sheathed, While Greece is still a Turkish slave? Shall Hellas, Mother of the West, In servitude ignoble rest? Oh, shame! that it should come to this, When by your side hang idle swords; Arise, ye sons of Salamis, Whose fathers quelled the Persian hordes, And drive the Moslem to the sea, Till Hellas and her sons be free.” When the song was finished, Caliphronas turned away silently, and Carriston, who was seated near, saw to his astonishment that the eyes of the emotional Greek were suffused with tears. “That man has some noble traits,” he said to himself as he noticed this; “he is moved by the wrongs of his country.” “What a fine ringing melody!” cried Eunice, whose eyes were flashing with excitement. “It is like ‘Chevy Chase,’” said Maurice quickly, “and stirs the heart like the sound of a trumpet.” “The poet was evidently inspired by Byron,” remarked Crispin, idly fingering the piano keys; “I expect he wrote it after the ‘Isles of Greece,’ song. Ah, a Greek should have written that.” “I am afraid the days of Alcæus are past,” replied the Rector, who had understood a considerable portion of the song, owing to his acquaintance with the ancient Attic tongue; “Greece prefers Anacreon. Still she won her freedom bravely.” “And to what gain?” said Caliphronas bitterly; “to be ruled by a Danish prince. Better the republics of Athens, Sparta, and Thebes, than such playing at monarchy.” “To revive the ancient government you must have the ancient patriots, poets, and scholars.” “That I am afraid is impossible. No, the glory has departed from Greece. Centuries of oppression have crushed the creative faculty out of her.”