This is the very place,
The hills, the plain, the sea,
Calm nature changeth not
Whate'er may be.

Here, here the Eastern wave,
Myriads of warlike men,
Surged vainly on the shore,
Then sank again

Two thousand years and more
Have vanished since the day
When that barbarian host
Faded away.

Worse tyrannies have come,
Flood after bitter flood;
Long time the loathly Turk
Bathed Greece in blood.

But of that old fierce fight
Clear memories linger yet;
Dark histories roll between,
Yet none forget.

To-day as twilight falls
Upon the darkling plain,
The ghosts of the great Past
Contend again

Still on that haunted marsh
The affrighted peasant hears
Barbaric shouts arise,
Shields clash with spears.

Groans, cries of mortal strife,
And trampling chivalry,
Where the lone hills survey
The sailless sea.