At the Gates of Flame: by Iain Johnston, Calderbank

Oh! Stranger that passes on by Harken! Can you hear a spectral sound?

Can you glimpse the shades of us who lie,

Lie upon this notorious and hallowed ground?

Us! The noble Spartans of old Thermopylae.

Do ghostly echoes come to your ear?

The clash of sword on shield, blade on blade

Whisper of arrows in the air, rasp of spear on spear

Thus! Catch a glimpse of things before they fade.

Can you see the phantom warriors, keen and clear?

Xerxes, king of princes, lord of the Persian hosts

Remembered the sting of defeat on Marathon’s plain,

Reviewed his armies upon the Grecian coasts.

“To these lands I will bring war, grief and pain,

“None can stand against us,” were his haughty boasts.

“Father Darius sent a wave 10 years before,

“Now I send an ocean to sweep all away,

“To drown all Greece from shore to other shore.

“To Persia’s glory forever shall be this day,

“As our spears sharpen, on death, flesh and gore.”

The Lion of Sparta addressed his warriors bold

“We shall hold the Gates of Flame unto the death;

“By this wall we will stand, fight and bravely hold,

“As long as one Spartan stands and draws breath;

“And dying, the Gods will welcome us to their fold.”

Attack after ferocious attack the Persians made,

“Our arrows will darken the sea!” they cried.

As the Spartans fought and strived, plying their deadly trade One after one they battled, fell and died.

With their lives, for freedom, the price they paid.

Dawn rose, blood red upon that final morn

Here now remained but a bloodstained score.

Forming thinned ranks at the sound of the battlehorn,

With brave Leonidas at the fore,

Spartans to the last, warriors born

When dusk came with a dying sun, all was at an end.

Fading rays on broken sword, shattered shield, battered crest, Where the heroic blood of Greek and Persian did blend.

Brave Leonidas lay silent, still, pierced to the breast Surrounded by his Spartan lions, who did not yield or bend.

So! Traveller, if you should wander this way,

Through this bleak, windswept path in Greece?

Think of the courageous stand made that far-off day.

For with our mortal lives we did pay

To give others justice, liberty and peace.

Thus! Look upon the words engraven there

That tell that we of Sparta fought well in years long past.

To your gods whisper a low fervent prayer

Then go on your way, whoever or where.

Remember our story. Long may it last!