The Turks were many—the Greeks were few, But their blood was hot and their hearts beat true; And they sware an oath before God on high Never like dastards to yield—but die. But how can a hundred champions hope With foes eight hundred or more to cope? Death comes, however, but once to all, Why fear to die, if they nobly fall? One Greek, a stripling, they sent away And sternly bade him this charge obey: "Go hide and watch, till the combat ends, Then bear the news to our wives and friends." At dawn they quitted the mountain glade Where each his couch on the turf had made, And down to the valley they marched, and there Upreared a rampart with toilsome care. The Pacha's envoy gave curt command: "Disband, ye rebels! at once, disband!" The Chieftain answered, "It is too late. Our stand is taken: we bide our fate." The silken sashes that girt them round, Long crimson sashes, had been unwound: And linked together, strong limb to limb, They proudly chanted a battle-hymn. The onslaught followed: the heroes fell, Cut down by sabre and shot and shell; But ere the lives of the hundred sped, Five hundred Moslems had joined the dead. When months had passed since that bloody fray, An English Colonel who rode that way Saw sun-bleached skeletons strewn around, With crimson sashes together bound. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CITY REVISITED by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET NOT TRANSHISTORICAL DEATH, OR AT LEAST NOT QUITE by HAYDEN CARRUTH AMOUR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ENVOYS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |