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Ζώη μά, σας αγαπώ.
Maid of Athens, ere we part, Give, oh, give me back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!
Hear my vow before I go,
By those tresses unconfined,
By that lip I long to taste;
By that zone-encircled waist;
Translation of the famous Greek ar Song, Δεύτε παίδες των
‘Exańswv, written by Riga, who perished in the attempt to revolutionize Greece. The following translation is as literal as the author could make it in verse; it is of the same measure as that of the original. See Appendix to vol. 1.
Sons of the Greeks, arise!
The glorious hour's gone forth,
Display who gave us birth.
Sons of Greeks! let us go
In arms against the foe,
Till their hated blood shall flow
In a river past our feet.
Then manfully despising
The Turkish tyrant's yoke,
Let your country see you rising,
And all her chains are broke.
Brave shades of chiefs and sages,
Behold the coming strife!
Hellénes of past ages,
Oh, start again to life!
Your sleep, oh, join with me!
And the seven-hilled city seeking,
Fight, conquer, till we're free.
Sons of Greeks, &c.