Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 7 1823.pdf/14



ye not when our dead From sleep to battle sprung? When the Persian charger's tread On their covering greensward rung*.

There was one, a leader crown'd,    And arm'd for Greece that day; But the falchions made no sound On his gleaming war-array. In the battle's front he stood, With his tall and shadowy crest, But the arrows drew no blood, Though their path was through his breast.

His sword was seen to flash Where the boldest deeds were done, But it smote without a clash, The stroke was heard by none! His voice was not of those That swell'd the rolling blast, And his steps fell hush'd like snows— 'Twas the shade of Theseus pass'd!

Far-sweeping through the foe, With a fiery charge he bore, And the Mede left many a bow On the sounding ocean-shore. And the dashing waves grew red, And the sails were crowded fast, When the sons of Asia fled, As the shade of Theseus pass'd!

F. H.