< Page:Prometheus Unbound - Shelley.djvu
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AN ODE,

[WRITTEN, OCTOBER, 1819, BEFORE THE SPANIARDS HAD RECOVERED THEIR LIBERTY.]

    Arise, arise, arise!
  There is blood on the earth that denies ye bread;
    Be your wounds like eyes
  To weep for the dead, the dead, the dead.
What other grief were it just to pay?
Your sons, your wives, your brethren, were they;
Who said they were slain on the battle day?


    Awaken, awaken, awaken!
  The slave and the tyrant are twin-born foes;
    Be the cold chains shaken

  To the dust where your kindred repose, repose:

N

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