Above the freeman, not the slave.
Arise, ye Greeks, and break your chains!
By daring hearts is freedom won.
Behold, the Moslem crescent wanes
Before the rising Attic sun;
Oh, let its golden beams be shed
On chainless Greeks, and tyrants dead!
Your fathers’ swords were laurel-wreathed,
And wielded well by freemen brave;
Why are your swords so idly sheathed,