human
To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek! He woke--to die midst flame, and smoke, And shout, and groan, and saber stroke, And death shots falling thick and fast As lightnings from the mountain cloud; And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band:
gpt
Strike--till the last armed foe expires; Strike--for your altars and your fires; Strike--for the green graves of your sires; God--and your native land!