THIS sword I'll carry in a myrtle bough, It is my trophy now; Aristogiton, and Harmodius, They bare it thus, When they the Tyrant had destroy'd, Restoring Athens to those liberties, Which she so much does prize, And which she anciently enjoy'd. O dear Harmodius! Thou art not dead, But in the Island of the Blest Dost live in peace, and rest: For so, 'tis said, Thou happy art in company Of swift Achilles, and fierce Diomede; And dost Tydides see; Therefore this Sword in a green myrtle bough, I carry as in triumph now. The brave Harmodius, And fam'd Aristogiton bare it thus: For when they had perform'd the sacrifice, To our great patroness, Minerva, due, They, as he in his grandeur sate, The tyrant, proud Hipparchus, slew, Who o'er th' Athenian State, Without pretence of right, did tyrannize. Eternal honours you on Earth shall gain, Aristogiton and Harmodius! You have the bloody tyrant slain, By which you do restore Your city to the laws which govern'd it before. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SCHOLAR GIPSY by MATTHEW ARNOLD HIC VIR, HIC EST' by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY LINES WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM AT ELBINGERODE, IN HARTZ FOREST by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE ENGLAND'S DEAD by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS BEDOUIN [LOVE] SONG by BAYARD TAYLOR |