Now Chesma’s humbled sons before thy flag have knelt.
The helpless Greeks have fled,—thy banner sees their shore,
Trembling they look around, while thy dread thunder swells,
And shakes the Dardanelles,
And Smyrna hears its roar.
Ye Frenchmen![143] Fear ye not the now advancing flame,
Recording, as it flies, your own, your country’s shame?
In the dark days of old, your valiant fathers trod
In the brave steps of Rome, towards lands of Southern glow;
Ye fight with Russians now,