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Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ. (2)
2. By those tresses unconfined, Woo'd by each Ægean wind; By those lids whose jetty fringe Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge ; By those wild eyes like the roe, Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.
3. By that lip I long to taste ; By that zone-encircled waist ; By all the token-flowers (3) that tell What words can never speak so well; By Love's alternate joy and woe, Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.
4. Maid of Athens! I am gone : Think of me, sweet! when alone. Though I fly to Istambol, (4) Athens holds my heart and soul: Can I cease to love thee? No! Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.
TRANSLATION OF THE FAMOUS GREEK WAR
Δεύτε παίδες των Ελλήνων,
Written by Riga, who perished in the attempt to revolutionize
Greece. The following translation is as literal as the author could make it in verse; it is of the same measure as that of the original. See vol. i. p. 130.
The glorious hour's gone forth,
Display who gave us birth.
In a river past our feet.
Then manfully despising
The Turkish tyrant's yoke,
And all her chains are broke.
Behold the coming strife !
Oh, start again to life!
At the sound of my trumpet, breaking
Your sleep, oh, join with me! And the seven-hill'd (5) city seeking, Fight, conquer, till we're free.
Sons of Greeks, &c.
3. Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers
Lethargic dost thou lie ? Awake, and join thy numbers
With A thens, old ally! Leonidas recalling,
That chief of ancient song, Who saved ye once from falling,
The terrible! the strong !
In old Thermopylæ,
To keep his country free;
The battle, long he stood, And like a lion raging, Expired in seas of blood.
Sons of Greeks, &c. TRANSLATION OF THE ROMAIC SONG,
“ Μπενω μες το περιβόλι
The song from which this is taken is a great favourite with the
young girls of Athens of all classes. Their manner of singing it is by verses in rotation, the whole number present joining in the chorus. I have heard it frequently at our “xógoi” in the winter of 1810-11. The air is plaintive and pretty.
Beloved and fair Haidée,
For surely I see her in thee.
Receive this fond truth from my tongue,
Yet trembles for what it has sung;
Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree,
Shines the soul of the young Haidée.
When Love has abandon'd the bowers;
That herb is more fragrant than flowers.