"In the far land I fall forsaken,
Unwept and unregarded, here;
By death from caitiff hands o'ertaken,
Nor ev'n one late avenger near!"

Down to the earth the death-stroke bore him--
Hark, where the Cranes wheel dismal o'er him!
He hears, as darkness veils his eyes,
Near, in hoarse croak, their dirge-like cries.
"Ye whose wild wings above me hover,
(Since never voice, save yours alone,
The deed can tell)--the hand discover--
Avenge!"--He spoke, and life was gone.

Naked and maim'd the corpse was found--
And, still through many a mangling wound,
The sad Corinthian Host could trace
The loved--too well-remember'd face.
"And must I meet thee thus once more?
Who hoped with wreaths of holy pine,
Bright with new fame--the victory o'er--
The Singer's temples to entwine!"

And loud lamented every guest
Who held the Sea-God's solemn feast--
As in a single heart prevailing,
Throughout all Hellas went the wailing.
Wild to the Council Hall they ran--
In thunder rush'd the threat'ning Flood--
"Revenge shall right the murder'd man,