Weep not for Scio's children slain; br Their blood, by Turkish falchions shed, br Sends not its cry to Heaven in vain br For vengeance on the murderer's head. br br Though high the warm red torrent ran br Between the flames that lit the sky, br Yet, for each drop, an armed man br Shall rise, to free the land, or die. br br And for each corpse, that in the sea br Was thrown, to feast the scaly herds, br A hundred of the foe shall be br A banquet for the mountain birds. br br Stern rites and sad, shall Greece ordain br To keep that day, along her shore, br Till the last link of slavery's chain br Is shivered, to be worn no more.