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Translated by William Young
OLD soldiers tell me, “We may thank thy Muse, | |
| That now the People popular songs can sing; | |
| Laugh thou at laurels faction may refuse; | |
| To our exploits again thy numbers string. | |
| Sing of that day, which traitors dared invoke, | 5 |
| That latest day of ruin, though of fame.” | |
| I said, my moist eyes drooping as I spoke, | |
| “Ne’er shall my verse be saddened by that name.” | |
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| In Athens, who of Cheronea’s day | |
| Would sing, the whilst his tuneful lyre he swept? | 10 |
| Doubting her gods, crestfallen Athens lay, | |
| And cursing Philip, o’er her fortunes wept. | |
| On such a day our glorious empire fell; | |
| Then, charged with chains for us, the stranger came; | |
| Degenerate Frenchmen deigned to greet him well: | 15 |
| Ne’er shall my verse be saddened by that name. | |
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| “Giant of battles, he at length must fall! | |
| Hasten, brave people,” cry the despot train; | |
| “Freedom herself shall spread his funeral pall, | |
| And saved by you, by you alone we ’ll reign.” | 20 |
| The giant sinks,—the dwarfs forgetful swear | |
| In slavish yoke the universe to tame; | |
| Alas for Glory! doubly cheated there! | |
| Ne’er shall my verse be saddened by that name. | |
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| But hold! the scions of another age | 25 |
| Even now the causes of my grief demand; | |
| Why should this wreck, in truth, their thoughts engage? | |
| Their buoyant cradles floated safe to land. | |
| May they be happy! their ascending star | |
| Of that disastrous day blots out the shame! | 30 |
| Still, were that day but some vain dream afar, | |
| Ne’er should my verse be saddened by its name. | |
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