Poem by George Gordon Byron

Song to the Suliotes

1.

Up to battle! Sons of Suli
Up, and do your duty duly!
There the wall—and there the Moat is:
Bouwah! Bouwah! Suliotes!
There is booty—there is Beauty,
Up my boys and do your duty.

2.

By the sally and the rally
Which defied the arms of Ali;
By your own dear native Highlands,
By your children in the islands,
Up and charge, my Stratiotes,
Bouwah!—Bouwah!—Suliotes!

3.

As our ploughshare is the Sabre:
Here's the harvest of our labour;
For behind those battered breaches
Are our foes with all their riches:
There is Glory—there is plunder—
Then away despite of thunder!

1. Churchill’s Grave
2. Epitaph
3. On a Change of Masters at a Great Public School
4. Lines Addressed to a Young Lady
5. To the Earl of Clare

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