Classic Poem

On this side were the men of the ships, the Achaeans, in the camp on the shore;
repulsed across the plain back from the walls of Troy there the tired heroes
rallied; the broken and wounded turned to give battle.
The sandy spit
held honour and the ships.

On that side, Hector,
lord and master of the mainland,
insurgent hope of a myriad tribes,
unleashed his maddened hordes shock after shock,
furious in hatred to trample the seafarers.
" Torches to fire the ships! "

On this side, no hope, only energy,
and the habit of action.
On that side rage half-victory,
and numbers against the before unvanquished,
Nerved them to snatch all;
ere their dread,
Achilles, the battle mighty,
Must arm on behalf of his comrades.
The hurled torches
even now light the tents. The battle
is turned ever to the ships.
So now the bombs fall
On our fields and flaming abodes.
On the breast works on the beaches
We defend a little land and the harbours of our fleets.

The Spirit of Liberty,
long time denied justice in the distribution of gain,
has held aloof from war,
our best ally,
indignant with unbalanced scales.
Our best ally
is the faith in freedom.
Let this faith be restored
and Troy shall fall.