GREAT are the fallen of Thermopylae, Nobly they ended, high their destination -- Beneath an altar laid, no more a tomb, Where none with pity comes or lamentation, But praise and memory -- A splendour of oblation No rust shall blot nor wreckful Time consume. The ground is holy: here the brave are resting, And here Greek Honour keeps her chosen shrine. Here too is one the worth of all attesting -- Leonidas, of Sparta's royal line, Who left behind a gem-like heritage Of courage and renown, A name that shall go down From age to age. |