Classic Poem

If o'er the land of songs and flowers,
And clustered vineyards ruby bright,
Of orange-groves and olive bowers,
And deep blue skies of cloudless light:

If o'er the land where every crag,
That frowns on vale and plain below,
Has heard the flap of Freedom's flag,
And seen the freeman's battle-blow:

If o'er the land of arms and arts,
Of bard and hero, king and sage,
Where sovereign beauty ruled all hearts,
And swelled the lay and fired the page:

If, o'er the land of burning thought
And lofty deed, rude steps have trod,
Wasting what man's fine hand had wrought,
Spoiling the nobler works of God:

If, o'er the land of ancient light
Tyrants have held their long control;
Thrown round the mind the pall of night,
And tenfold darkness round the soul:

Oh, let us tear the veil away!
Strengthen the weak and lead the blind:—
Oh, let us pour Heaven's blessed ray
On the dull heart and clouded mind:

So shall our generous aid afford
Light to relume these hallowed shades,—
Give the Greek boy his father's sword,
Their mother's lyre those dark-eyed maids.