I SAW him on the battle-eve,

  When like a king he bore him,—

Proud hosts in glittering helm and greave,

  And prouder chiefs before him;

The warrior, and the warrior’s deeds,

The morrow, and the morrow’s meeds,

  No daunting thoughts came o’er him;

He looked around him, and his eye

Defiance flashed to earth and sky.

 

He looked on ocean,—its broad breast

  Was covered with his fleet;

On earth,—and saw from east to west

  His bannered millions meet;

While rock and glen and cave and coast

Shook with the war-cry of that host,

  The thunder of their feet!

He heard the imperial echoes ring,—

He heard, and felt himself a king.

 

I saw him next alone: nor camp

  Nor chief his steps attended;

Nor banner blazed, nor courser’s tramp

  With war-cries proudly blended.

He stood alone, whom fortune high

So lately seemed to deify;

  He who with heaven contended

Fled like a fugitive and slave!

Behind, the foe; before, the wave.

 

He stood—fleet, army, treasure, gone—

  Alone, and in despair!

But wave and wind swept ruthless on,

  For they were monarchs there;

And Xerxes, in a single bark,

Where late his thousand ships were dark,

  Must all their fury dare.

What a revenge,—a trophy, this,—

For thee, immortal Salamis!