The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece! <br /> Where burning Sappho loved and sung, <br /> Where grew the arts of war and peace, <br /> Where Delos rose, and Phoebus <br /> sprung! <br /> Eternal summer gilds them yet, <br /> But all, except their sun, is set... <br /> <br /> The mountains look on Marathon-- <br /> And Marathon looks on the sea; <br /> And musing there an hour alone, <br /> I dreamed that Greece might still be free; <br /> For standing on the Persians' grave, <br /> I could not deem myself a slave. <br /> <br /> A king sat on the rocky brow <br /> Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; <br /> And ships, by thousands, lay below, <br /> And men in nations--all were his! <br /> He counted them at break of day-- <br /> And when the sun set, where were they? <br /> <br /> And where are they? And where art thou? <br /> My country? On thy voiceless shore <br /> The heroic lay is tuneless now-- <br /> The heroic bosom beats no more! <br /> And must thy lyre, so long divine, <br /> Degenerate into hands like mine? <br /> <br /> 'Tis something, in the dearth of fame, <br /> Though linked among a fettered race, <br /> To feel at least a patriot's shame, <br /> Even as I sing, suffuse my face; <br /> For what is left the poet here? <br /> For Greeks a blush--for Greece a tear.... <br /> <br /> Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! <br /> Our virgins dance beneath the shade-- <br /> I see their glorious black eyes shine; <br /> But gazing on each glowing maid, <br /> My own the burning teardrop laves, <br /> To think such breasts must suckle slaves. <br /> <br /> Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, <br /> Where nothing, save the waves and I, <br /> May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; <br /> There, swanlike, let me sing and die: <br /> A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine-- <br /> Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-isles-of-greece-2/
