For as the olive-garland of the race, Which lights with joy each eager runner's face, As the red cross which saveth men in war, As a flame-bearded beacon seen from far By mariners upon a storm-tossed sea, -Such was his love for Greece and Liberty!
Byron, thy crowns are ever fresh and green:
Red leaves of rose from Sapphic Mitylene Shall bind thy brows; the myrtle blooms for thee, In hidden glades by lonely Castaly;The laurels wait thy coming: all are thine, And round thy head one perfect wreath will twine.
V.
The pine-tops rocked before the evening breeze With the hoarse murmur of the wintry seas, And the tall stems were streaked with amber bright; -I wandered through the wood in wild delight, Some startled bird, with fluttering wings and fleet, Made snow of all the blossoms; at my feet, Like silver crowns, the pale narcissi lay, And small birds sang on every twining spray.
O waving trees, O forest liberty!
Within your haunts at least a man is free, And half forgets the weary world of strife:
The blood flows hotter, and a sense of life Wakes i' the quickening veins, while once again The woods are filled with gods we fancied slain.
Long time I watched, and surely hoped to see Some goat-foot Pan make merry minstrelsy Amid the reeds! some startled Dryad-maid In girlish flight! or lurking in the glade, The soft brown limbs, the wanton treacherous face Of woodland god! Queen Dian in the chase, White-limbed and terrible, with look of pride, And leash of boar-hounds leaping at her side!
Or Hylas mirrored in the perfect stream.
O idle heart! O fond Hellenic dream!
Ere long, with melancholy rise and swell, The evening chimes, the convent's vesper bell, Struck on mine ears amid the amorous flowers.
Alas! alas! these sweet and honied hours Had whelmed my heart like some encroaching sea, And drowned all thoughts of black Gethsemane.
VI.
O lone Ravenna! many a tale is told Of thy great glories in the days of old:
Two thousand years have passed since thou didst see Caesar ride forth to royal victory.
Mighty thy name when Rome's lean eagles flew From Britain's isles to far Euphrates blue;And of the peoples thou wast noble queen, Till in thy streets the Goth and Hun were seen.
Discrowned by man, deserted by the sea, Thou sleepest, rocked in lonely misery!
No longer now upon thy swelling tide, Pine-forest-like, thy myriad galleys ride!
For where the brass-beaked ships were wont to float, The weary shepherd pipes his mournful note;And the white sheep are free to come and go Where Adria's purple waters used to flow.
O fair! O sad! O Queen uncomforted!
In ruined loveliness thou liest dead, Alone of all thy sisters; for at last Italia's royal warrior hath passed Rome's lordliest entrance, and hath worn his crown In the high temples of the Eternal Town!
The Palatine hath welcomed back her king, And with his name the seven mountains ring!
And Naples hath outlived her dream of pain, And mocks her tyrant! Venice lives again, New risen from the waters! and the cry Of Light and Truth, of Love and Liberty, Is heard in lordly Genoa, and where The marble spires of Milan wound the air, Rings from the Alps to the Sicilian shore, And Dante's dream is now a dream no more.
But thou, Ravenna, better loved than all, Thy ruined palaces are but a pall That hides thy fallen greatness! and thy name Burns like a grey and flickering candle-flame Beneath the noonday splendour of the sun Of new Italia! for the night is done, The night of dark oppression, and the day Hath dawned in passionate splendour: far away The Austrian hounds are hunted from the land, Beyond those ice-crowned citadels which stand Girdling the plain of royal Lombardy, From the far West unto the Eastern sea.
I know, indeed, that sons of thine have died In Lissa's waters, by the mountain-side Of Aspromonte, on Novara's plain, -Nor have thy children died for thee in vain:
And yet, methinks, thou hast not drunk this wine From grapes new-crushed of Liberty divine, Thou hast not followed that immortal Star Which leads the people forth to deeds of war.