The Sleeper of Marathon

I LAY upon the solemn plain

      And by the funeral mound,

Where those who died not there in vain

      Their place of sleep had found.

’T was silent where the free blood gushed,

      When Persia came arrayed,—

So many a voice had there been hushed,

      So many a footstep stayed.

I slumbered on the lonely spot,

      So sanctified by Death,—

I slumbered,—but my rest was not

      As theirs who lay beneath.

For on my dreams, that shadowy hour,

      They rose,—the chainless dead,—

All armed they sprang, in joy, in power,

      Up from their grassy bed.

I saw their spears, on that red field,

      Flash as in time gone by,—

Chased to the seas, without his shield

      I saw the Persian fly.

I woke,—the sudden trumpet’s blast

      Called to another fight,—

From visions of our glorious past,

      Who doth not wake in might?