Weep not for Scio's children slain; <br />Their blood, by Turkish falchions shed, <br />Sends not its cry to Heaven in vain <br />For vengeance on the murderer's head. <br /> <br />Though high the warm red torrent ran <br />Between the flames that lit the sky, <br />Yet, for each drop, an armed man <br />Shall rise, to free the land, or die. <br /> <br />And for each corpse, that in the sea <br />Was thrown, to feast the scaly herds, <br />A hundred of the foe shall be <br />A banquet for the mountain birds. <br /> <br />Stern rites and sad, shall Greece ordain <br />To keep that day, along her shore, <br />Till the last link of slavery's chain <br />Is shivered, to be worn no more.<br /><br />William Cullen Bryant<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-massacre-at-scio/
