THE VOICE OF SCIO 271 THE VOICE OF SCIO A VOICE from Scio's isle- The souls of nations woke ! Where lies the land whose hills among To sky, and sea, and shore, Still by our sun-bright deep, Threw round them, in its rushing way, And kings their turf have crowned! A voice from Scio's isle, A voice as deep hath risen again; Let not its tones expire! Such power to waken earth and heaven, Know ye not whence it comes? From ruined hearths, from burning fanes, 'Tis with us through the night! Hear it, ye heavens! when swords flash high [ THE SPARTANS' MARCH. "THE Spartans used not the trumpet in their march into battle, says Thucydides, because they wished not to excite the rage of their warriors. Their charging-step was made to the The valour of a 'Dorian mood of flutes and soft recorders.' Spartan was too highly tempered to require a stunning or a rousing impulse. His spirit was like a steed too proud for the spur."-CAMPBELL, On the Elegiac Poetry of the Greeks.] 'Twas morn upon the Grecian hills, Where peasants dressed the vines; Arcadia's rocks and pines. And brightly, through his reeds and flowers, Eurotas wandered by, When a sound arose from Sparta's towers Of solemn harmony. THE SPARTAN'S MARCH. 273 Was it the hunters' choral strain To the woodland-goddess poured? Did virgin hands in Pallas' fane Strike the full-sounding chord? But helms were glancing on the stream, And the mountain-echoes of the land They marched not with the trumpet's blast, And the laurel groves, as on they passed, They asked no clarion's voice to fire But the Dorian reed and the Spartan lyre And still sweet flutes their path around They needed not a sterner sound So moved they calmly to their field, Save bearing back the Spartan shield, S THE BOWL OF LIBERTY [FOR an account of this ceremony, anciently performed in BEFORE the fiery sun- The sun that looks on Greece with cloudless eye,- Amidst the tombs they stood, The tombs of heroes! with the solemn skies, They called the glorious dead, In the strong faith which brings the viewless nigh, They called them from the Shades- The golden-fruited Shades, where minstrels tell Then fast the bright-red wine Flowed to their names who taught the world to die, THE URN AND SWORD 275 So the rejoicing earth Took from her vines again the blood she gave, We have the battle-fields, The tombs, the names, the blue majestic sky- THE URN AND SWORD [SEE Potter's Grecian Antiquities, ii. 234.] THEY sought for treasures in the tomb, They scattered far the greensward heap, Where once those hands the bright wine poured ; An urn, which held the dust of one Who died when hearths and shrines were free; And these are treasures !-undismayed, |