For the stroke that made us free,
When the tyrant fell.
Death, Harmodius! came not near thee,
Isles of bliss and brightness cheer thee,
There heroic breasts revere thee,
There the mighty dwell! —D. K. Sandford.
The same.
With myrtle-wreathed I'll wear my sword,
As when ye slew the tyrant lord,
And made Athenian freedom brighten;