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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391585" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Bride Of The Greek Isle</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fear! I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death?<br>A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom?<br>I will not live degraded ~ <br>Sardanapalus</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come from the woods with the citron-flowers,<br>Come with your lyres for the festal hours,<br>Maids of bright Scio! They came, and the breeze<br>Bore their sweet songs o'er the Grecian seas;?<br>They came, and Eudora stood rob'd and crown'd,<br>The bride of the morn, with her train around. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Jewels flash'd out from her braided hair,<br>Like starry dews midst the roses there;<br>Pearls on her bosom quivering shone,<br>Heav'd by her heart thro' its golden zone;<br>But a brow, as those gems of the ocean pale,<br>Gleam'd from beneath her transparent veil;<br>Changeful and faint was her fair cheek's hue,<br>Though clear as a flower which the light looks through;<br>And the glance of her dark resplendent eye,<br>For the aspect of woman at times too high,<br>Lay floating in mists, which the troubled stream<br>Of the soul sent up o'er its fervid beam. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She look'd on the vine at her father's door,<br>Like one that is leaving his native shore;<br>She hung o'er the myrtle once call'd her own,<br>As it greenly wav'd by the threshold stone;<br>She turn'd?and her mother's gaze brought back<br>Each hue of her childhood's faded track. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh! hush the song, and let her tears<br>Flow to the dream of her early years!<br>Holy and pure are the drops that fall<br>When the young bride goes from her father's hall;<br>She goes unto love yet untried and new,<br>She parts from love which hath still been true;<br>Mute be the song and the choral strain,<br>Till her heart's deep well-spring is clear again!<br>She wept on her mother's faithful breast,<br>Like a babe that sobs itself to rest;<br>She wept yet laid her hand awhile<br>In his that waited her dawning smile?<br>Her soul's affianced, nor cherish'd less<br>For the gush of nature's tenderness!<br>She lifted her graceful head at last?<br>The choking swell of her heart was past;<br>And her lovely thoughts from their cells found way<br>In the sudden flow of a plaintive lay. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The Bride's Farewell:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why do I weep? to leave the vine<br>Whose clusters o'er me bend,<br>The myrtle yet, oh! call it mine!<br>The flowers I lov'd to tend.<br>A thousand thoughts of all things dear,<br>Like shadows o'er me sweep,<br>I leave my sunny childhood here,<br>Oh, therefore let me weep! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I leave thee, sister! we have play'd<br>Thro' many a joyous hour,<br>Where the silvery green of the olive shade<br>Hung dim o'er fount and bower.<br>Yes, thou and I, by stream, by shore,<br>In song, in prayer, in sleep,<br>Have been as we may be no more,<br>Kind sister, let me weep! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I leave thee, father! Eve's bright moon<br>Must now light other feet,<br>With the gather'd grapes, and the lyre in tune,<br>Thy homeward step to greet.<br>Thou, in whose voice, to bless thy child,<br>Lay tones of love so deep,<br>Whose eye o'er all my youth hath smiled<br>I leave thee! let me weep! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mother! I leave thee! on thy breast,<br>Pouring out joy and wo,<br>I have found that holy place of rest<br>Still changeless yet I go!<br>Lips, that have lull'd me with your strain,<br>Eyes, that have watch'd my sleep!<br>Will earth give love like yours again!<br>Sweet mother! let me weep! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And like a slight young tree, that throws<br>The weight of rain from its drooping boughs, <br>Once more she wept. But a changeful thing<br>Is the human heart, as a mountain spring,<br>That works its way, thro' the torrent's foam,<br>To the bright pool near it, the lily's home!<br>It is well! the cloud, on her soul that lay,<br>Hath melted in glittering drops away.<br>Wake again, mingle, sweet flute and lyre!<br>She turns to her lover, she leaves her sire.<br>Mother! on earth it must still be so,<br>Thou rearest the lovely to see them go! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They are moving onward, the bridal throng,<br>Ye may track their way by the swells of song;<br>Ye may catch thro' the foliage their white robes' gleam,<br>Like a swan midst the reeds of a shadowy stream.<br>Their arms bear up garlands, their gliding tread<br>Is over the deep-vein'd violet's bed;<br>They have light leaves around them, blue skies above,<br>An arch for the triumph of youth and love!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II.<br>Still and sweet was the home that stood<br>In the flowering depths of a Grecian wood,<br>With the soft green light o'er its low roof spread,<br>As if from the glow of an emerald shed,<br>Pouring thro' lime-leaves that mingled on high,<br>Asleep in the silence of noon's clear sky.<br>Citrons amidst their dark foliage glow'd,<br>Making a gleam round the lone abode;<br>Laurels o'erhung it, whose faintest shiver<br>Scatter'd out rays like a glancing river;<br>Stars of the jasmine its pillars crown'd,<br>Vine-stalks its lattice and walls had bound,<br>And brightly before it a fountain's play<br>Flung showers thro' a thicket of glossy bay,<br>To a cypress which rose in that flashing rain,<br>Like one tall shaft of some fallen fane. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thither Ianthis had brought his bride,<br>And the guests were met by that fountain-side; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They lifted the veil from Eudora's face,<br>It smiled out softly in pensive grace,<br>With lips of love, and a brow serene,<br>Meet for the soul of the deep wood-scene.<br>Bring wine, bring odours! the board is spread?<br>Bring roses! a chaplet for every head!<br>The wine-cups foam'd, and the rose was shower'd<br>On the young and fair from the world embower'd;<br>The sun looked not on them in that sweet shade,<br>The winds amid scented boughs were laid;<br>And there came by fits, thro' some wavy tree,<br>A sound and a gleam of the moaning sea. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hush! be still! was that no more<br>Than the murmur from the shore?<br>Silence! did thick rain-drops beat<br>On the grass like trampling feet?<br>Fling down the goblet, and draw the sword!<br>The groves are fill'd with a pirate horde! <br>Thro' the dim olives their sabres shine;<br>Now must the red blood stream for wine! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The youths from the banquet to battle sprang,<br>The woods with the shriek of the maidens rang;<br>Under the golden-fruited boughs<br>There were flashing poniards and dark'ning brows,<br>Footsteps, o'er garland and lyre that fled,<br>And the dying soon on a greensward bed. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Eudora, Eudora! thou dost not fly!<br>She saw but Ianthis before her lie,<br>With the blood from his breast in a gushing flow,<br>Like a child's large tears in its hour of wo,<br>And a gathering film in his lifted eye,<br>That sought his young bride out mournfully.<br>She knelt down beside him, her arms she wound,<br>Like tendrils, his drooping neck around,<br>As if the passion of that fond grasp<br>Might chain in life with its ivy-clasp. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But they tore her thence in her wild despair,<br>The sea's fierce rovers they left him there;<br>They left to the fountain a dark-red vein,<br>And on the wet violets a pile of slain,<br>And a hush of fear thro' the summer grove,<br>So clos'd the triumph of youth and love! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">III.<br>Gloomy lay the shore that night,<br>When the moon, with sleeping light,<br>Bath'd each purple Sciote hill,<br>Gloomy lay the shore, and still.<br>O'er the wave no gay guitar<br>Sent its floating music far;<br>No glad sound of dancing feet<br>Woke, the starry hours to greet.<br>But a voice of mortal wo,<br>In its changes wild or low,<br>Thro' the midnight's blue repose,<br>From the sea-beat rocks arose, <br>As Eudora's mother stood<br>Gazing o'er th' Egean flood,<br>With a fix'd and straining eye?<br>Oh! was the spoilers' vessel nigh?<br>Yes! there, becalm'd in silent sleep,<br>Dark and alone on a breathless deep,<br>On a sea of molten silver, dark,<br>Brooding it frown'd that evil bark!<br>There its broad pennon a shadow cast,<br>Moveless and black from the tall, still mast,<br>And the heavy sound of its flapping sail,<br>Idly and vainly wooed the gale.<br>Hush'd was all else: Had ocean's breast<br>Rock'd e'en Eudora that hour to rest? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To rest? the waves tremble! what piercing cry<br>Bursts from the heart of the ship on high?<br>What light through the heavens, in a sudden spire,<br>Shoots from the deck up? Fire! 'tis fire! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There are wild forms hurrying to and fro,<br>Seen darkly clear on that lurid glow;<br>There are shout, and signal-gun, and call,<br>And the dashing of water, but fruitless all!<br>Man may not fetter, nor ocean tame<br>The might and wrath of the rushing flame!<br>It hath twined the mast like a glittering snake,<br>That coils up a tree from a dusky brake;<br>It hath touch'd the sails, and their canvass rolls<br>Away from its breath into shrivell'd scrolls;<br>It hath taken the flag's high place in air,<br>And redden'd the stars with its wavy glare;<br>And sent out bright arrows, and soar'd in glee,<br>To a burning mount midst the moonlight sea.<br>The swimmers are plunging from stern and prow.<br>Eudora! Eudora! where, where art thou?<br>The slave and his master alike are gone.<br>Mother! who stands on the deck alone?<br>The child of thy bosom! and lo! a brand<br>Blazing up high in her lifted hand! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And her veil flung back, and her free dark hair<br>Sway'd by the flames as they rock and flare;<br>And her fragile form to its loftiest height<br>Dilated, as if by the spirit's might,<br>And her eye with an eagle-gladness fraught,<br>Oh! could this work be of woman wrought?<br>Yes! 'twas her deed! by that haughty smile<br>It was hers?She hath kindled her funeral pile!<br>Never might shame on that bright head be,<br>Her blood was the Greek's, and hath made her free! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Proudly she stands, like an Indian bride<br>On the pyre with the holy dead beside;<br>But a shriek from her mother hath caught her ear,<br>As the flames to her marriage-robe draw near,<br>And starting, she spreads her pale arms in vain<br>To the form they must never infold again. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">One moment more, and her hands are clasp'd,<br>Fallen is the torch they had wildly grasp'd, <br>Her sinking knee unto Heaven is bow'd,<br>And her last look rais'd thro' the smoke's dim shroud,<br>And her lips as in prayer for her pardon move:<br>Now the night gathers o'er youth and love!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391585" data-title="The Bride Of The Greek Isle de Felicia Dorothea Hemans" data-description="Fear! I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death?
A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom?
I will not live degraded ~ 
Sardanapalus

Come from the woods with the citron-flowers,
Come with your lyres for the festal hours,
Maids of bright Sci..."></div>
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