Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 7 1823.pdf/6



the fiery Sun— The sun that looks on Greece with cloudless eye, In the free air, and on the war-field won, Our fathers crowned the Bowl of Liberty.*

Amidst the tombs they stood, The tombs of Heroes! with the solemn skies And the wide plain around, where patriot-blood Had steeped the soil in hues of sacrifice.

They called the glorious Dead, In the strong faith which brings the viewless nigh! And poured rich odours o'er their battle-bed, And bade them to the rite of Liberty.

They called them, from the shades, The golden-fruited shades! where minstrels tell How softer light th' immortal clime pervades, And music floats o'er meads of Asphodel.

Then fast the bright red wine Flowed to their names who taught the world to die, And made the land's green turf a living shrine— Meet for the wreath and Bowl of Liberty!

So the rejoicing Earth Took from her vines again the blood she gave, And richer flowers to deck the tomb drew birth From the free soil, thus hallowed to the brave.

We have the battle-fields, The tombs, the names, the blue majestic sky! We have the founts the purple vintage yields; —When shall we crown the Bowl of Liberty?