  SILENT he sits upon the Cretan height, A girdling ring of fleets and forts below; He sees the war-ships gliding to and fro, Hears distant, summoning trumpets through the night. Far off is Greece, the enemy is near; To her he speaks, to him he nothing says; Borrowing the lightning’s language for his phrase, With fiery flash he talks, in utterance clear. In the old time a monarch through the murk Stared shuddering, and watched while fiery lines Traced on the wall a word of destiny; And so the “Christian” kings who serve the Turk May read like message in those flashing signs: “Weighed, wanting, lo! thy power is taken from thee.” |
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