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Thomas Moore - The Ghost of Miltiades
Work rating: Low

The Ghost of Miltiades came at night,
And he stood by the bed of the Benthamite,
And he said, in a voice, that thrill`d the frame,
"If ever the sound of Marathon`s name
Hath fir`d they blood or flush`d thy brow,
Lover of Liberty, rise thee now!"


The Benthamite, yawning, left his bed —
Away to the Stock Exchange he sped,
And he found the Scrip of Greece so high, 
That it fir`d his blood, it flush`d his eye,
And oh, `twas a sight to see,
For never was Greek more Greek than he!
And still as the premium higher went, 
His ecstas rose - so much per cent., 
(As we see in a glass, that tells the weather,
The heat and the silver rise together,)
And Liberty sung from the patriot`s lip,
While a voice from pocket whisper`d "Scrip!"
The Ghost of Miltiades came again; —
He smil`d as the pale moon smiles through rain,
For his soul was glad at the patriot strain;
(And poor, dear ghost — how little he knew
The jobs and the tricks of the Philhellene crew!)
"Blessings and thanks!" was all he said,
Then, melting away, like a night-dream, fled!


The Benthamite hears — amaz`d that ghosts
Could be such fools — and away he posts,
A patriot still? Ah no, ah no —
Goddess of Freedom, thy scrip is low,
And, warm and fond as they lovers are,
Thou triest their passion, when under par.
The Benthamite`s ardour fast decays,
By turns he weeps, and swears, and prays,
And wishes the d—l had Crescent and Cross,
Ere he had been forc`d to sell at a loss.
They quote thim the Stock of various nations,
But, spite of his classical associations,
Lord how he loathes the Greek quotations!


"Who`ll buy my Scrip! Who`ll buy my Scrip?"
Is now the theme of the patriot`s lip,
And he runs to tell how hard his lot is
To Messrs. Orlando and Luriottis,
And says, "Oh Greece, for Liberty`s sake,
Do buy my Scrip and I vow to break
Those dark, unholy bonds of thine —
If you`ll only consent to buy up mine!"
The Ghost of Miltiades came once more; —
His brow, like the night, was lowering o`er,
And he said, with a look that flash`d dismay,
"Of Liberty`s foes the worst are they
Who turn to a trade her cause divine,
And gamble for gold on Freedom`s shrine!"
Thus saying, the Ghost, as he took his flight,
Gave a Parthian kick to the Benthamite,
Which sent him, whimpering, off to Jerry —
And vanish`d away to the Stygian ferry!
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