Not mindless of these mighty times 390

Was Alp, despite his flight and crimes;

And through this night, as on he wandered,[pc]

And o'er the past and present pondered,

And thought upon the glorious dead

Who there in better cause had bled,

He felt how faint and feebly dim[pd]

The fame that could accrue to him,

Who cheered the band, and waved the sword,[pe]

A traitor in a turbaned horde;

And led them to the lawless siege, 400

Whose best success were sacrilege.

Not so had those his fancy numbered,[353]

The chiefs whose dust around him slumbered;

Their phalanx marshalled on the plain,

Whose bulwarks were not then in vain.

They fell devoted, but undying;

The very gale their names seemed sighing;

The waters murmured of their name;

The woods were peopled with their fame;

The silent pillar, lone and grey, 410

Claimed kindred with their sacred clay;

Their spirits wrapped the dusky mountain,

Their memory sparkled o'er the fountain;[pf]

The meanest rill, the mightiest river

Rolled mingling with their fame for ever.

Despite of every yoke she bears,

That land is Glory's still and theirs![pg]

'Tis still a watch-word to the earth:

When man would do a deed of worth

He points to Greece, and turns to tread, 420

So sanctioned, on the tyrant's head:

He looks to her, and rushes on

Where life is lost, or Freedom won.[ph]