The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 3Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
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The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 3
Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
English poetry
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,
"Δεῦτε παῖδες τῶν Ἑλλήνων."
["Deu~te pai~des tô~n E(llê/nôn."][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 Thermopylæ,
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,
"Μπένω μεσ' τὸ περιβόλι,
Ὡραιοτάτη Χαηδή," κ.τ.λ.
["Mpe/nô mes' to\ peribo/li,
Ô(raiota/tê Chaêdê/," k.t.l.][18]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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