The mountains look on Marathon
And Marathon looks on the sea;
And musing there an hour alone,
I dreamed that Greece might still be free;
For, standing on the Persians’ grave,
I could not deem myself a slave.

A King sat on the rocky brow
Which looks o’er sea-born Salamis;
And ships, by thousands, lay below,
And men in nations; all were his!
He counted them at break of day,
And when the sun set, where were they?

And where are they? And where art thou,
My country?
On thy voiceless shores
The heroic story shall be told,
And braver hearts shall rise once more;
The freemen’s cry shall fill the air,
And my home of freedom shall be rare!

• Lord Byron