The Athenaid: a poem, by the author of Leonidas. [pt.2]

Table of contents

- [halftitle]

- [titlepage]

- THE ATHENAID. BOOK the ELEVENTH.

- THE ATHENAID. BOOK the TWELFTH.

- THE ATHENAID. BOOK the THIRTEENTH.

- THE ATHENAID. BOOK the FOURTEENTH.

- THE ATHENAID. BOOK the FIFTEENTH.

- THE ATHENAID. BOOK the SIXTEENTH.

- THE ATHENAID. BOOK the SEVENTEENTH.

- THE ATHENAID. BOOK the EIGHTEENTH.

- THE ATHENAID. BOOK the NINETEENTH.

- THE ATHENAID. BOOK the TWENTIETH.

- ERRATA.

THE ATHENAID. A POEM.

VOL. II.

THE ATHENAID, A POEM,

BY THE AUTHOR OF LEONIDAS.

VOL. II.

LONDON: PRINTED FOR T. CADELL, IN THE STRAND. M.DCC.LXXXVII.

THE ATHENAID.
BOOK the ELEVENTH.

TH' unloosen'd anchors to the waves resign

The Delphian keels, while Auster's friendly breath,

Their burden light'ning, soon to Sunium shews

The spreading sails. Two vessels, riding there,

Receive embarking warriors. On the beach

Looks Medon stedfast: By almighty Jove,

He cries aloud, Themistocles I see!

O Haliartus, O my holy friend,

We must not leave unvisited a shore

Which holds that living trophy to our view,

The victor-chief at Salamis. The skiff

Is launch'd; they land. Themistocles begins

The salutation: Hail! Oileus' son,

Thou rev'rend host of Athens, Timon, hail!

Your unexpected presence here excites

A pleasing wonder. Whither do ye steer

These well remember'd vessels, which convey'd

Thee, first of Locrians, with our Attic bard,

To Salamis from Delphi? In that course

Was Timon captive made, whom freed at last

My joyful arms embrace. The Locrian here:

To Atalanté, in Euboean streights,

We steer; another of Oilean race,

Through bounteous Heav'n a refuge there obtains,

My brother, good Leonteus, with a band

Of gallant Locrians, ready at my call

To lift their bucklers in defence of Greece.

But why, remote from Athens, on the strand

Of naked Sunium, do I see the son

Of Neocles, so recently by me

At Sparta left? Themistocles replies:

Forbear enquiry now, O virtuous branch

Of that ennobled stock, th' Oilean house!

If e'er my conduct merited thy praise,

If thou believ'st me studious of the fame

Which follows manly deeds, forbear to doubt

Th' unwearied further efforts of my limbs,

My heart, my talents: Secrecy matures,

Time brings the labour of the mind to birth.

Were those first steps reveal'd, which restless thought,

Constructing some vast enterprize, ascends,

How wild a wand'rer, Medon, would appear

The policy of man! But, gen'rous chief,

Whose valour, whose experience might assure

A prosp'rous issue to a bold exploit,

Say, should I open on some future day

To thy discerning sight the clearest track,

Where to success one glorious stride might reach,

Wouldst thou be ready at my call? He paus'd.

From such a mouth, such captivating words

Insinuate sweetness through the Locrian's ear,

Who feels th' allurement; yet, by prudence rul'd,

This answer frames: Through such a glorious track

Whoever guides, may challenge Medon's aid;

Thou prove that guide, my steps shall follow close,

Unless by Aristides call'd, whose voice

Commands my service. Cool th' Athenian hides

The smart his wounded vanity endures,

And manly thus, unchang'd in look, rejoins:

I ask no more; I rest my future claim

On Medon's valour, only to support

What Aristides shall approve, farewell.

Avail thee straight of these propitious winds;

In Atalanté, known to me of old,

What force thou can'st, assemble; dread no wants,

I will be watchful to supply them all.

They part. Now Medon, under hoisted sails,

Remarks unwonted transport on the cheek

Of Haliartus. O my peasant weeds,

His joy exclaims, how gratefully you rise

In my remembrance now! From you my hopes

Forebode some benefit to Greece. Dear lord,

Forbear enquiry; by yon hero warn'd,

In secrecy my thoughts, till form'd complete,

Lie deeply bury'd. Timon smil'd, and spake:

I know, full often enterprises bold

Lie in the womb of mystery conceal'd;

Thus far th' Athenian hero and thyself

Raise expectation; but I further know,

His faculties are matchless, thou art brave,

Unerring Medon like my god is wise;

Thence expectation soars on steady wings.

O light of Greece, Themistocles, exert

Thy boundless pow'rs! mature thy pregnant plan!

Whene'er the glorious mystery unveils,

Me and my Delphians thou shalt find prepar'd.

The turbulent Euripus swift they plough

In pleasing converse thus, and clasp, in hope,

Their anxious friends on Atalanté's shore.

When ev'ry mast was hid by Sunium's cape,

Thus to his faithful minister, the son

Of Neocles: Sicinus, hast thou seen

My followers on board? The treasures brought

From Xerxes, those my spoils of war supply,

The arms, the stores, Sicinus, has thy care

Deposited in safety? Yes, replies

Th' entrusted servant. Now thyself embark,

His lord enjoins, who, musing thus, remains:

If my attempt to further I have won

This gallant Locrian, frankly I confess

My debt to fortune; but this casual boon

I can forego, if wantonly her hand

Resumes; Themistocles alone can trace

A path to glory. Tow'rds the land he turns,

Proceeding thus: Now, Attica, farewell,

A while farewell. To thee, Barbarian gold,

Themistocles resorts; my bosom guest,

Whom Aristides in disdain would spurn,

By thee, O gift of Xerxes, I will raise

The weal of Athens, and a fresh increase

To my own laurels. Uncontroll'd, supreme

Is Aristides. He the Attic youth

In phalanx bright to victory may lead;

Minerva's bird Xanthippus may display

To Asia, trembling at their naval flag;

A private man, Themistocles will reach

Your summits, fellow citizens, preferr'd

To his command. Ye chosen heroes, wait

For breezy spring to wanton in your sails,

Then range your vig'rous files, and pamper'd steeds;

Themistocles, amid septentrion snows,

Shall rouse despair and anguish from their den

Of lamentation; poverty shall blaze

In radiant steel; pale misery shall grasp

A standard. Athens, thy rejected son

Extorted aid from tyranny shall draw

On his own greatness to establish thine.

Swift he embarks, like Neptune when he mounts

His rapid conch to call the tempests forth,

Upturn the floods, and rule them when they rage.

The third clear morning shews Eretria's port,

Among Euboean cities once superb,

Eretria now in ashes. She had join'd

Th' Athenians, bold invaders, who consum'd

The capital of Lydia, to revenge

Ionian Greeks enthrall'd. Eretria paid

Severe atonement to Hystaspes' son,

Incens'd Darius. To a Cissian plain,

A central space of his unbounded realm,

Far from their ancient seat, which flames devour'd,

He her exterminated race confin'd,

Sad captives, never to revisit more

Their native isle. A silent wharf admits

Themistocles on shore, a void extent,

Where sons of Neptune heretofore had swarm'd.

No mooring vessel in the haven rode,

No footstep mark'd the ways; sole inmates there,

Calamity and horror, as enthron'd,

Sat on o'erwhelming ruins, and forbade

The hero passage, till a seeming track

Presents, half bury'd in surrounding heaps

Of desolation, what appears a dome,

Rais'd to some god. Themistocles observes

A shatter'd porch, whose proud supporters lie

In fragments, save one column, which upholds

Part of a sculptur'd pediment, where, black

By conflagation, an inscription maim'd

Retains these words, "To eleutherian Jove."

Th' Athenian enters, follow'd by his train

In arms complete. Excluded was the day

By ruins pil'd externally around,

Unless what broken thinly-scatter'd rays

Shot through th' encumber'd portal. Soon they stand

Amidst obscuring dusk in silence all,

All motionless in wonder, while a voice,

Distinct in tone, delivers through the void

These solemn accents: Eleutherian god!

Since no redeemer to Eretria fall'n

Thy will vouchsafes, why longer dost thou keep

Thy aged servant on a stage of woe?

Why not release him? why not close his eyes,

So vainly melting o'er his country lost?

Ten years are fled; the morning I have hail'd

In sighs alone; have laid my head on thorns

Of anguish, nightly visited in dreams

By images of horror, which employ

Each waking moment. To have seen destroy'd

From their foundations my paternal streets,

The holy structures burn, a people forc'd

In climates new and barbarous to dwell,

Was sure enough to suffer—It is time

To give my patience rest. The plaintive sound

Draws on th' Athenian, who perceives a gleam,

Pale-quiv'ring o'er a solitary lamp;

Perceives a rev'rend sire, resembling Time,

Down to whose girdle hangs the snowy fleece

Of wintry age. Unaw'd his lamp he rais'd;

A dim reflection from the polish'd arms

Reveal'd the warrior, whom he thus bespake:

Whate'er thou art, if hostile, or a friend,

A god, a mortal, or a phantom vain,

Know, that my state no change can render worse,

All change make better. Father, soft replied

Th' advancing chief, take comfort, I am come

Thy country's saviour; follow, in the day

See who I am. Between the op'ning band

He leads the senior through the dusky porch,

Whom he accosts before th' unclouded sun,

Then vertical: Rest, father, and behold

Themistocles of Athens. While the priest,

So by his fillet sacerdotal known,

In wonder paus'd, th' artificer divine

Of wiles to catch the sudden turns of chance,

Frames in a momentary cast of thought

This bright device of fiction to allure

A holy mind. O worthy of the god!

Thou servant pure of Jupiter! I mourn,

Like thee, Eretria, not like thee despond.

Attend, thou righteous votary to heav'n!

I, from the day of Salamis o'ertoil'd,

While courting slumber, in a vision saw

The sapient issue of th' almighty sire,

His best belov'd Minerva. Still the sound

Of her gorgonian shield my ears retain,

While earnest, striking on its rim her spear,

The virgin warrior spake: Triumphant son

Of Neocles, remember in thy joy

The miseries of others. Go, redeem

Eretria fall'n, whose noble remnant arm'd

Sev'n ships, exhausting all their slender stores,

To fight for Athens on this glorious day.

As from the sooty gate of direful Dis

Deliver'd Theseus, when to cheering day

He reascended, on Alcides look'd,

Who for his lov'd companion pierc'd the gloom

Of Erebus; th' Eretrian's grateful eyes

Thus on the son of Neocles were fix'd,

In ecstacy of joy. These fervent words

He utter'd: Heav'n hath giv'n thee to destroy

Presumptuous foes, O favour'd by the gods!

Who give thee now to save despairing friends;

That, all-rejoicing in thy trophies new,

Great as thou art, thy gen'rous soul may prove,

How far beyond the transports conquest yields,

Are those resulting from benignant deeds.

More grateful, chief, is charity's sweet voice,

Than Fame's shrill trumpet, in the ear of Jove,

Who will, on such humanity as thine,

Accumulate his blessings. If my name

Thou ne'er hast heard, or, hearing, hast forgot,

Know, that from lib'ral Cleobulus sprung,

I am Tisander. Interrupting swift

Th' Athenian here: Thy own, thy father's name,

To me, illustrious pontiff, well are known.

My recent banner in the summer's gale

Thou must remember on th' Eretrian coast.

Eretrian warriors under Cleon's charge,

In ships by me supply'd, undaunted fought

At Artemisium, and an earnest gave

Of their late prowess. From their chief, from all

Thy celebrating countrymen, I heard

Of thee Tisander, and thy name retain;

Proceed. To him the priest: Flow first my tears!

Of that brave band whatever now remains

Have nought but prowess left. Alas! how few

Escap'd thy fell, exterminating hand,

When treachery surrender'd to thy pow'r,

Darius! Sons of husbandry lay hid

In woods and caverns; of the nobler class

Some on the main were absent. Priest of Jove

I was releas'd; a pious, beardless prince,

Nam'd Hyperanthes, on my rank and years

Look'd with compassion; living, I extol,

My dying breath shall bless him. I have dwelt

Within my temple, mourning o'er this waste.

Here, annually collected (Lo! the day

Of that severe solemnity is nigh)

Th' unhappy reliques of Eretrian blood

Accompany my tears. Thou knowst, they sail'd

At thy appointment, on Athenian decks,

They and the men of Styra from that port

For Salamis. In glory they return'd

To want and horror, desert found their land,

Their crops, their future sustenance destroy'd,

Their huts consum'd, their cattle swept away,

Their progeny, their wives; flagitious act

Of Demonax, in Oreus late replac'd,

Her tyrant foul, a slave to Xerxes' throne,

His scourge in rich Euboea, half-reduc'd

To this dire monster's sway, by royal aid

Of endless treasure, and Barbarian bands.

Such is our state. Too scanty are the means

Of willing Styra to relieve such wants;

Our wealthier neighbours of Carystus vend,

Not give; in hoarded grain, in flocks and herds

Abounding, them a sordid chief controlls,

Nicomachus. An oligarchy rules

Geraestus small, but opulent—O Jove!

I see brave Cleon yonder; from his head

He rends the hair—what gestures of distress!

He beats his troubled bosom, wrings his hands!

Not heeding great Themistocles, he points

On me alone a wild distracted look!

Say Cleon. . . Swift, with shiv'ring lips and pale,

Th' Eretrian leader, interrupting, vents

His tortur'd thoughts: Tisander, can thy pray'rs

Repel grim famine, rushing on the blast

Of barren winter? Three disastrous days

Will lay the combatants for Greece in dust,

Behind them leaving nothing but a name

For Salamis to publish. Lo! they come,

A dying people, suppliant to repose

Within thy fane their flesh-divested bones.

Yet such a tomb, their fainting voices cry,

May those Eretrians envy who are doom'd

To lodge their captive limbs in Asia's mold.

He ends in sighs. Behold, a ghastly troop

Slow through the ruins of their native streets

In languid pace advance! So gath'ring shoals

Of ghosts from hour to hour through endless time,

The unrelenting eye of Charon views,

By sickness, plague and famine, by the sword,

Or heart-corroding sorrow, sent from light

To pass the black irremeable floods

Of Styx. Cecropia's hero cast a look

Like Phoebus heav'nly-gentle, when, aton'd,

Th' infectious air he clear'd, awak'ning gales

To breathe salubrious o'er th' enfeebled host

Of Agamemnon, as from death they rose

Yet to assert their glory. Swift the chief

Bespake Sicinus: Haste, unlaid the ships;

Three talents bring; they, Cleon, shall be thine;

Seek those in every part who vend, not give.

The gifts of Ceres in profusion bear,

The gifts of Pan, the grape's reviving juice,

To these, my fellow warriors, who have seen

My banner streaming, twice have lent their aid

To my renown; meantime our naval food

Shall be their portion; vesture now shall cheer

Their limbs. My brave companions, I have brought

The spear and buckler for your manly hands;

Your strength restor'd shall feel the glorious weight

Of crested helms. Tisander, let them rest

Within thy shelt'ring temple, not to sink

Beneath distress, but vig'rous soon renew

Their practis'd race of honour. Pass, my friends,

Be mute; expression of your joy I wave;

Again to-morrow you and I will meet.

Tisander, happy, entertains his guests,

Twelve hundred countrymen, the last remains

Of populous Eretria. Plenty's boon

Alert the Attic mariners diffuse

To all, and cordial tend their wants; discreet

Sicinus curbs excess. The tidings brought

Of his performance from a short repast

Dismiss'd his lord applauding; who serene,

Stretch'd on his naval pillow, slept till dawn.

He rose. To him Sicinus: Will my lord

Permit his servant, with an active band

Of sailors, these obstructions to remove,

Or so dispose, that feeblest steps may find

A passage free to good Tisander's fane;

That through its wonted apertures, the round

Of that huge pile, where Jupiter should dwell,

Now dark as Pluto's palace, may admit

The light of heav'n? Yet further, we must search

For coverts dry, if such the greedy flames

Have left among these ruins, to secure

The various stores, which Cleon may transport.

To him his lord: Go, monitor expert,

Accomplish what thou counsel'st. Tow'rds the fane

Himself not slow proceeds. Before the front,

On scatter'd fragments of their ancient homes,

Th' Eretrians, pale with long-continu'd want,

Are seated. Thick as winter-famish'd birds

Perch on the boughs, which icicles encrust,

Yet chirp and flutter in th' attemp'ring sun,

These, at the hero's presence, wave their hands,

Unite their efforts in acclaim not loud,

But cordial, rather in a gen'ral sigh

Of gratitude. The charitable care

Of his best warriors, some of noblest birth,

Impart their help, like parents to a race

Of tender infants. Onc f might approv'd

In battle, hardiest of the naval breed,

Th' Eretrians, worn by hunger, scarce retain

The slender pow'rs of childhood. One by one

Themistocles consoles them, and devotes

In condescension sedulous the day

To kindness not impolitic. In these

His piercing genius fit materials saw

To build another structure of renown.

Ere he retires, Tisander thus he greets:

Wilt thou, O father! on my board bestow

An evening hour? My moments all belong

To this yet helpless people, said the priest.

Such pious care through me shall heav'n reward,

Exclaims the chief, as round him he remarks

The toiling sailors; soon, thou guardian good

Of wretched men committed to thy charge,

Soon shall thy temple reassume its state.

Prepare an altar; Hecatombs again

Shall smoke ere long, Eretria cast aside

Her widow'd garb, and lift her festive palms

To eleutherian Jove. This utter'd, swift

He seeks his vessel, while the sun descends.

Calm, as in summer, through an ether clear

Aurora leads the day. A cheerful sound

Of Oxen, lowing from the hollow dales

Which tow'rds Carystus wind, of bleeting sheep,

Yet nearer driven across the Eretrian plain,

Awake Themistocles. His couch he leaves,

Revisiting the temple; there enjoys

The gen'ral transport. Plenty on the wing

Is nigh, the comforts of her fruitful horn

To pour on desolation. Cleon comes,

Accosting thus Themistocles: My task

Is well accomplish'd through the lib'ral zeal

Of Hyacinthus near a youth unlike

His sire Nicomachus. That subtile chief

Of our Carystian neighbours is behind,

Escorting laden carriages of grain,

Thy purchase; nought his sordid hand bestows.

He, curious more than friendly in our need,

Or of thy name respectful, to explore,

Not help or pity, hither bends his course.

Conduct the father to my ship, reply'd

Themistocles; sure yonder is the son,

Thou hast describ'd; ingenuous are his looks.

Like him, whose name he bears, his beauteous form

Might charm the beaming god once more to court

A mortal's friendship; but, dejection pale

O'ercasts his hue; strange melancholy dims

His youthful eye; too modest, or unmann'd

By languor, child of grief, he stops and bows

In distant, seeming awe, which wounds my soul.

I must salute him: Noble youth, receive

My hand; Themistocles of Greece expects

No such obeisance from a fellow Greek.

The majesty of Athens might exact

That conquer'd tyrants, in my presence brought,

Low as the dust should crouch beneath her chief.

A start of anguish Hyacinthus gave

At these last words, then silent bow'd again

His decent brow; not awe, but latent ills

Seem'd to control his tongue. Th' observant chief

Defers enquiry to its season due,

To Cleon's charge consigns him, and retires

To his own galley. Waiting for the sire,

He meditates a moment on the son:

I see advantage in this youth's distress—

My plan is form'd. He hastens to unbar

His copious treasure; thence in dazzling show

He spreads four silver talents on his board,

O'er them a mantle throws, and brief again

Thus ruminates: Now, Plutus, who canst sap

The strong-bas'd tow'r, and soften rigid hearts,

Smile on this juncture. Aristides scorns

Thy deity, Themistocles invokes

Thy precious succour. From profoundest woe

Disconsolate Eretria thou hast rais'd;

Now by a sordid instrument give life

To dull Carystus. Sudden in his view,

By Cleon brought, who instantly withdraws,

Nicomachus appears, and thus begins:

The Salaminian victor I salute,

Charg'd by Carystus; happy is my lot

To venerate the chief, and touch the hand

Which humbled Asia. Doth Euboea see

Thee visitant illustrious to rebuild

Eretria? then instruct her to confine

That pow'r and pride, her neighbours felt of old.

Th' Athenian here: Euboea sees me come

Both to upraise, Carystian, and depress;

But to exalt thy state, my friend, I wish,

Wish thy possessions equal to thy worth.

Behold! Uplifting to the greedy eye

Of avarice the mantle, he pursues;

Behold, four silver talents! Them accept,

Which in this casket to thy trusted slaves

I will deliver now; I only ask

Of thy deep-founded influence to warm

Supine Carystus: For thyself and Greece

Unite with mine thy standard. Further note,

If at my summons thou produce in arms

Thy citizens auxiliar, from this hand

Expect four added talents; but the hopes

Of no unpractis'd leader, who perceives

His enterprize assur'd, dare promise more,

A share, Nicomachus, of spoil in war,

To pass thy own belief. By present gain,

By more in promise, not by glory fir'd,

Nicomachus rejoins: A thousand spears

Shall wait thy earliest notice. While he spake,

He snatch'd the casket, shut the treasure close,

Then rush'd to seek his confidential slave,

Who takes the precious charge. With placid looks

The cool the politic Athenian sat

Like some experienc'd pilot, who serene,

In skilful guidance of the steady helm,

Enjoys the favour smooth of gale and tide,

Combin'd to waft o'er ocean's fickle breast

His gliding keel, and lodge her costly freight

Secure at length in harbour. Now he spake

To his re-ent'ring guest: Carystian friend,

Thou hast a son, well-disciplin'd to war,

Brave, lib'ral, wise, I doubt not; wilt thou trust

To my society a while his youth?

He is the object of my vows to heav'n,

Nicomachus exclaims, in passion feign'd,

My soul's delight, the rapture of my eye!

If he were absent, ev'ry hour my age

Would feel a growing burden. Come, rejoins

Th' Athenian, him I only would detain

My messenger of order to thy walls;

On him another talent would bestow.

The gymnic school and letters, cries the sire,

He follows, heeds not treasure; by his hand

Send me the talent; never let him know

The charge he bears. This said, he loudly calls

To Hyacinthus, who had gain'd the deck,

Him ent'ring thus addresses: Son, the chief

Of Athens, great Themistocles, demands

Thee for companion. As a casual gleam

Breaks through th' unrav'lling texture of black clouds,

Which long on winter's sullen face have hung;

So darts a ray of gladness through the gloom

Of Hyacinthus, by the Attic chief

Not unobserv'd. Intent on swift return,

Th' exulting father bids to both farewel.

Remaining day Themistocles employs

Among his sailors in th' Eretrian streets,

Inspects the necessary toil pursu'd

With unremitted vigour, then retires

To due refection. Cleon is a guest

With Hyacinthus, still by grief devour'd

Which all his efforts strive in vain to hide.

Her heavy wing no sooner night outspreads,

Than to Sicinus they are giv'n in charge,

While to his couch Themistocles repairs.

End of the Eleventh Book.

THE ATHENAID.
BOOK the TWELFTH.

NOW in the zodiac had the sun o'erpass'd

The tenth fair sign. The new succeeding month,

Though not by Flora, nor Vertumnus deck'd,

Nor green in hue, though first of winter's train,

Oft with unsully'd skies irradiate cheers

The prone creation, and delights mankind.

The birds yet warble on the leafless sprays,

The placid surface, glaz'd by clearest light,

In crystal rivers, and transparent lakes,

Or ocean's smooth cerulean bosom, shews

The finny tribes in play. The active son

Of Neocles uprises, and descries

A dawn which promis'd purity of air,

Of light and calmness, tempting sloth herself

To action. Thus he rous'd his native fire:

Of this kind season not a moment lose,

Themistocles. Sicinus ever nigh

He call'd: Provide two receptacles sure,

Each to contain twelve talents; bring my arms,

Produce a second suit, resembling mine;

Send Hyacinthus; let my chosen band

Of Attic friends, and Sparta's fifty youths,

My followers, be ready for a march.

Soon Hyacinthus enters; still he shews

The perturbation of a mind oppress'd

By some conceal'd misfortune, while, beneath

The shade of sorrow, on his front appear'd

Excelling graces. Him the chief bespake,

Gay in his look, and sprightly in his tone:

Her eastern hill, behold, the morning mounts

In radiance, scatter'd from the liquid gems

On her loose mantle; but the heart of youth

In ev'ry season should rejoice, in clouds

Not less than sunshine, whether nature's voice

Be hoarse in storms, or tune to whisp'ring gales

Her vernal music. Sharp some inward grief,

When youth is sad; yet fortune oft deceives

The inexperienc'd by imagin'd ills,

Or light, which counsel of the more mature

Can lightly heal. Unlock thy lib'ral mind;

To me, a guardian pregnant of relief

Beyond thy father, countrymen, or friends,

Impart thy cares. The sighing guest replied:

To thy controul my service I devote,

O scourge of tyrants, but retain my grief!

Which thou, O first of mortals, or the king

Of high Olympus, never can redress.

Sicinus interrupts; his lord's commands

Are all accomplish'd. Now, Carystian friend,

Resembling me in stature, size and limbs,

The son of Neocles proceeds, accept

That suit of armour; I have tried it well;

Receive a shield familiar to my arm.

He next instructs Sicinus: Thou receive

Twelve talents; hasten to the neighb'ring walls

Of stately Chalcis, populous and rich,

Queen of Euboean cities, in whose port

The twenty ships of Athens yet remain,

Which Chalcis borrow'd, and equipp'd for war.

Of her bold race four thousand we beheld

Distinguish'd late in Artemisium's fight,

At Salamis yet later. First approach

The new-made archon in a rev'rent style,

Timoxenus most potent in that state,

A dubious, timid magistrate, unlike

Nearchus. Cordial salutation bear

To him, my brave associate; do not turn

Thy back on Chalcis, till thy prudence brings

Intelligence of weight; th' Athenian keels

With grain abundant and materials lade,

That friendly roofs th' Eretrians may obtain,

Before grim winter harrow up these streights

Unnavigable soon. This said, he arms;

Begirt by warriors, to the temple speeds,

And greets the priest: In gladsome thought I see

The goddess Health, white-handed, crimson-cheek'd,

As from a silver car in roseate •…uds

Look on thy people; dropping on their lips

Restoring dew, she bids them taste and live.

The convalescent piously employ

In labours, where my naval band shall join,

To free th' encumber'd temple, to repair,

To cover dwellings, lest the winter bring

New hardships. Martial exercise I leave

To Cleon's care, while ten revolving suns

Of absence I must count. Now, father, take

This hand, a hand which fortune and thy god

Have ever favour'd, which shall soon convert

The annual day of mourning in thy fane

To festival solemnity of joy.

Bless'd by Tisander, rapid he departs.

Young Hyacinthus follows, who in arms,

Once by his patron worn, to ev'ry eye

Presents a new Themistocles, but such,

As when th' allurement of his early bloom

He, not unconscious of the charm, display'd

To Attic damsels. Cloudless on their march

Apollo shoots a clear and tepid ray;

A scatter'd village in Carystian bounds

To rural hospitality admits

The wearied warriors. Hyacinthus guides

His great protector to a shelt'ring fane

Of Juno, styl'd connubial; stately round

Old beech extend a venerable shade;

Through ages time had witness'd to their growth,

Whose ruddy texture, disarray'd of green,

Glows in the purple of declining day.

They pass the marble threshold, when the youth

With visage pale, in accents broken spake:

Unequall'd man, behold the only place

For thy reception fit; for mine. . . He paus'd;

A gushing torrent of impetuous grief

O'erwhelm'd his cheeks; now starting, on he rush'd,

Before the sacred image wrung his hands;

Then sinking down, along the pavement roll'd

His body; in distraction would have dash'd

His forehead there. Themistocles prevents,

Uplifts, and binds him in a strong embrace;

When thus in eager agony the youth:

Is not thy purpose, godlike man, to crush

The tyrant Demonax, in torture cut

The murd'rer short, that he may feel the pangs

Of death unnatural? Young man, replies

Th' Athenian grave, to know my hidden thoughts,

Dost thou aspire, retaining still thy own?

Still in my presence thy distemper drinks

The cup of misery conceal'd, and seems,

Rejecting friendship's salutary hand,

To court the draught which poisons. Canst thou hope,

Mysterious youth, my confidence, yet none

Wilt in Themistocles repose? His look,

His tone, in feign'd austerity he wrapp'd,

So Aesculapius bitter juice apply'd

From helpful plants, his wisdom had explor'd,

The vehicles of health. In humble tears,

Which melted more than flow'd, the mourner thus:

Forgive me, too regardless of thy grace;

Of all forgetful, save itself, my grief

Deserves thy frown, yet less than giddy joy,

Which, grown familiar, wantons in the smile

Of condescension. Ah! that grief will change

Reproof to more than pity; will excite

A thirst for vengeance, when thy justice hears

A tale—Unfold it, interpos'd the chief,

To one who knows the various ways of men,

Hath study'd long their passions and their woes,

Nor less the med'cines for a wounded mind.

Then Hyacinthus: Mighty chief, recal

Thy first successes, when Euboea's maids

Saw from her shores Barbarian pendants low'r'd

To thine, and grateful pluck'd the flow'rs of May

To dress in chaplets thy victorious deck.

Then, at thy gen'rous instigation fir'd,

The men of Oreus from their walls expell'd

Curst Demonax, their tyrant. On a day,

Ah! source of short delight, of lasting pain!

I from the labour of a tedious chace,

O'erspent by thirst and heat, a forest gain'd.

A rill, meandring to a green recess,

I track'd; my wonder saw a damsel there

In sumptuous vesture, couch'd on fragrant tufts

Of camomile, amid surrounding flow'rs

Reposing. Tall, erect a figure stern

Was nigh; all sable on his head and brow,

Above his lip, and shadowing his cheeks

The hair was brisled; fierce, but frank his eye

A grim fidelity reveal'd; his belt

Sustain'd a sabre; from a quiver full

On sight of me an arrow keen he drew,

A well-strung bow presented, my approach

Forbidding loudly. She, upstarting, wak'd.

My aspect, surely gentle when I first

Beheld Cleora, more of hope than fear

Inspir'd; she crav'd protection—What, ye fates!

Was my protection—O superior man,

Can thy sublimity of soul endure

My tedious anguish! Interposing mild

Th' Athenian here: Take time, give sorrow vent,

My Hyacinthus, I forbid not tears.

He now pursues: her suppliant hands she rais'd,

To me astonish'd, hearing from her lips,

That Demonax was author of her days.

Amid the tumult his expulsion caus'd,

She, from a rural palace, where he stor'd

Well known to her a treasure, with a slave

In faith approv'd, with gold and gems of price

Escap'd. All night on fleetest steeds they rode,

Nor knew what hospitable roof to seek.

My father's sister, Glaucé, close behind

This fane of Juno dwelt, her priestess pure,

My kindest parent. To her roof I brought—

O Glaucé what—O dearest, most rever'd!

To thee I brougnt Cleora! Horror pale

Now blanch'd his visage, shook his loos'ning joints,

Congeal'd his tongue, and rais'd his rigid hair.

Th' Athenian calm and silent waits to hear

The reassum'd narration. O ye flow'rs,

How were ye fragrant! forth in transport wild

Bursts Hyacinthus: O embow'ring woods,

How soft your shade's refreshment! Founts and rills

How sweet your cadence, while I won the hand

Of my Cleora to the nuptial tie,

By spotless vows before thy image bound,

O Goddess hymeneal! O what hours

Of happiness untainted, dear espous'd,

Did we possess! kind Glaucé smil'd on both.

The earliest birds of morning to her voice

Of benediction sung; the gracious found

Our evening heard; content our pillow smooth'd.

Ev'n Oxus, so Cleora's slave was nam'd,

Of Sacian birth, with grim delight and zeal

Anticipates our will. My nuptials known

Brings down my father, whose resentment warm

Th' affinity with Demonax reproves,

A helpless vagabond, a hopeless wretch;

For now thy sword at Salamis prevail'd.

This storm Cleora calm'd; the gen'rous fair

Before my father laid her dazzling gems;

She gave, he took them all; return'd content;

Left us too happy in exhaustless stores

Of love for envious fate to leave unspoil'd.

Meantime no rumour pierc'd our tranquil bow'r,

That Demonax in Oreus was replac'd;

That he two golden talents to the hand,

Which should restore Cleora, had proclaim'd,

To me was all unknown. Two moons complete

Have spent their periods since one evening late

Nicomachus my presence swift requir'd,

A dying mother to embrace. By morn

I gain'd Carystus; by the close of day

A tender parent on my breast expir'd.

An agitation unexpected shook

My father's bosom as I took farewell.

On my return—I can no more—Yes, yes,

Dwell on each hideous circumstance, my tongue;

With horror tear my heartstrings till they burst:

Poor Hyacinthus hath no cure but death.

The sun was broad at noon; my recent loss

Lamenting, yet asswaging by the joy

To see Cleora soon, ne'er left before,

(A tedious interval to me) I reach'd

My home, th' abode of Glaucé. Clos'd, the door

Forbids my passage; to repeated calls

No voice replies; two villagers pass by,

Who at my clamours help to force my way.

I pass one chamber; strangled on the floor,

Two damsel-ministers of Juno lie.

I hurry on; a second, where my wife

Was in my absence to partake the couch

Of Glaucé, shews that righteous woman dead.

The dear impression where Cleora's limbs

Sleep had embrac'd, I saw, the only trace

Of her, the last, these eyes shall e'er behold.

Her name my accents strong in frenzy sound:

Cleora makes no answer. Next I fly

From place to place; on Sacian Oxus call:

He is not there. A lethargy benumbs

My languid members. In a neighb'ring hut,

Lodg'd by the careful peasants, I awake,

Insensible to knowledge of my state.

The direful tidings from Carystus rouse

My friends; Nicanor to my father's home

Transports me. Ling'ring, torpid I consum'd

Sev'n moons successive; when too vig'rous youth

Recall'd my strength and memory to curse

Health, sense, and thought. My rashness would have sought

Cleora ev'n in Oreus, there have fac'd

The homicide her sire; forbid, with-held,

Nicanor I deputed. When I march'd

To bid thee welcome, on the way I met

That friend return'd—Persist, my falt'ring tongue,

Rehearse his tidings; pitying Heav'n may close

Thy narrative in death—The Sacian slave

Produc'd Cleora to her savage sire;

So fame reports, all Oreus so believes.

But this is trivial to the tragic scene

Which all beheld. Her hand the tyrant doom'd

To Mindarus, a Persian lord, the chief

Of his auxiliar guard; but she refus'd,

And own'd our union, which her pregnant fruit

Of love too well confirm'd. The monster, blind

With mad'ning fury, instantly decreed

That deadliest poison through those beauteous lips

Should choak the springs of life. My weeping friend

Saw her pale reliques on the fun'ral pyre.

I am not mad—ev'n that relief the gods

Deny me. All my story I have told,

Been accurate on horror to provoke

The stroke of death, yet live. . . Thou must, exclaims

The chief, humanely artful, thou must live;

Without thy help I never can avenge

On Demonax thy wrongs. Ha! cries the youth,

Art thou resolv'd to lift thy potent arm

Against the murd'rer? Yes, th' Athenian said,

I will do more, thy virtue will uphold,

Whose perseverance through such floods of woe

Could wade to bid me welcome. Gen'rous youth,

Trust to the man whom myriads ne'er withstood,

Who towns from ruin can to greatness raise,

Can humble fortune, force her fickle hand

To render up the victim she hath mark'd

For shame and sorrow, force her to entwine

With her own finger a triumphant wreath

To deck his brow. Themistocles, who drives

Despair and desolation from the streets

Of fall'n Eretria, and from eastern bonds

Afflicted Greece at Salamis preserv'd;

He will thy genius to his native pow'rs

Restore; will make thee master of revenge

For thy own wrongs; to glorious action guide

Thy manly steps, redressing, as they tread,

The wrongs of others. Not the gracious voice

Of Juno, speaking comfort from her shrine,

Not from his tripod Jove's prophetic seed,

Imparting counsel through his Pythian maid,

Not Jove himself, from Dodonaean groves,

By oracles of promise could have sooth'd

This young, but most distinguish'd of mankind

Among the wretched, as the well-wrought strain

Of thy heart-searching policy, expert

Themistocles, like some well-practis'd son

Of learn'd Machaon, o'er a patient's wound

Compassionate, but cool, who ne'er permits

His own sensation to control his art.

But, said th' Athenian, soldiers must refresh,

As well as fast, nor keep incessant watch.

They quit the temple. In the dwelling nigh

Deep-musing Hyacinthus lightly tastes

The light repast. On matted tufts they stretch

Their weary'd limbs. Themistocles had arm'd

With elevated thoughts his pupil's mind,

Which foils at intervals despair. His eyes

The transient palm of sleep would often seal,

But oft in dreams his dear espous'd he sees,

A livid spectre; an empoison'd cup

She holds, and weeps—then vanishes. Revenge,

In bloody sandals and a dusky pall,

Succeeds. Her stature growing, as he gaz'd,

Reveals a glory, beaming round her head;

A sword she brandishes, the awful sword

Which Nemesis unsheathes on crimes. He sees

Connubial Juno's image from the base

Descend, and, pointing with its marble hand,

Before him glide. A sudden shout of war,

The yell of death, Carystian banners wav'd,

An apparition of himself in arms,

Stir ev'ry sense. The dreadful tumult ends;

The headless trunk of Demonax in gore

He views in transport. Instantly his couch

Shoots forth in laurels, vaulting o'er his head;

The walls are hung with trophies. Juno comes,

No longer marble, but the queen of heav'n,

Clad in resplendency divine. She leads

Cleora, now to perfect bloom restor'd,

Who, beck'ning, opens to th' enraptur'd eye

Of Hyacinthus, doating on the charm,

Her breast of snow; whence pure ambrosial milk

Allures an infant from an amber cloud,

Who stoops, and round her neck maternal clings.

He to embrace them striving, wak'd and lost

Th' endearing picture of illusive air,

But wak'd compos'd. His mantle he assum'd,

To Juno's statue trod, and thus unlock'd

His pious breast: O goddess! though thy smile,

Which I acknowledge for the hours of bliss

I once possess'd, a brief, exhausted term,

Could not protect me from malignant fate,

Lo! prostrate fall'n before thee, I complain

No more. My soul shall struggle with despair;

Nor shall the furies drag me to the grave.

Thou punishment dost threaten to the crime,

Which hath defac'd my happiness on earth;

Themistocles, my patron, is thy boon,

Who will fulfil thy menace. I believe,

There is a place hereafter to admit

Such purity as hers, whose blissful hand

Thou didst bestow—I lost—I know my days

With all their evils of duration short;

I am not conscious of a black misdeed,

Which should exclude me from the seat of rest,

And therefore wait in pious hope, that soon

Shall Hyacinthus find his wife and child

With them to dwell forever. He concludes,

Regains the chamber, and Aurora shines.

End of the Twelfth Book.

THE ATHENAID.
BOOK the THIRTEENTH.

WHEN Hyacinthus first his couch forsook

Themistocles in care had follow'd close,

But secretly had noted well the pray'r

To Juno sent, and part approving, part

Condemning, heard. Accoutr'd now in mail,

The young Carystian, to his list'ning friend,

Relates the wonders of his recent dream.

Th' Athenian, while most cordial in the care

Of Hyacinthus, whom his woes endear'd,

Still weigh'd his use. This answer he devis'd

To ease the grief he pitied, and preserve

The worth essential to his own designs.

What thou hast told, Carystian, fires my breast;

It was a signal, by Saturnia held

To animate thy rage, and prompt thy arm

To action. She requires not, goddess wise,

Humiliation, scorns the sluggish mind,

Whose thoughts are creeping to Elysian rest.

They hush no throbs of anguish, while it rends

The mangled heartstrings, no not more than staunch

A bleeding wound, or quench a fever's flame.

We earn Elysium, and our evils here

Surmount, alike by action. Manly toil

Repels despair. Endurance of a storm,

Which rocks the vessel, marches long and swift,

A river pass'd, while enemies in front

By whirls of javelins chase the rapid ford,

A rampart scal'd, the forcing of a camp,

Are cures of sorrow. In her vision clear

So did heav'n's empress intimate this morn.

Me too she visited in sleep; her voice

My waking thoughts confirm'd; Cleora lives;

Else why the goddess thus: Arise, O son

Of Neocles, of this afflicted youth

Be thou sure guide to rescue his espous'd;

The profanation of my rites chastise.

The fiction wraps in credulous delight

The young Carystian's confidence, who feels

Circaean magic from his patron's eye,

His tongue, and gesture. He, quick-sighted, turns

To swift advantage his delusion thus:

Come, let me try thy vigour; I am bound

To neighb'ring Styra; fly before thy friend;

Among that gen'rous people, who, their all,

Two gallies sent to Salamis, proclaim

Themistocles approaches. Like a dart,

Lanc'd from the sinews of a Parthian's arm,

Without reply th' inspir'd Carystian flew,

Cas'd as he was in steel. Meantime the chief

Salutes his Attic and Laconian bands;

His captivating presence both enjoy,

Which else no eye most piercing might discern,

Not ev'n the hundred never-sleeping lights,

Which on the margin of her parent flood

Incessant watch'd the progeny transform'd

Of Inachus, the Argive watry god;

Where undistinguish'd in the grazing herd

His daughter wept, nor he that daughter knew

A speechless suppliant. Recommenc'd, the march

Exhausts the day. Beneath a holy roof,

Which rose to Ceres, they their shelter'd limbs

To rest and food resign. There gently swell'd

Th' encircling ground, whence fair the morning smil'd

On little Styra, who, no queen superb

Of wide dominion, like a rural nymph

In decency of garb, and native locks,

Her humble circuit not unlovely shews.

She from Athenian boundaries of old

Her first inhabitants deriv'd, and pours

Her sons now forth Themistocles to greet,

Their eldest parent's hero. Lampon bold

Accosts him: Me the weak, but willing hand

Of Styra late enabled to enrol

My name with thine, unconquerable son

Of Neocles. Though feeble is her sword,

Her sinews boast of Attic vigour still.

Oh! that her means were equal to her love,

A lib'ral welcome thou and these should find;

But yon Geraestian oligarchy, foe

To equity and freedom, from our meads

Have newly swept our plenty. Ardent here,

Themistocles: By heav'n, my Styrian host,

Not thrice shall day illuminate your skies,

Ere double measure shall these petty lords

Repay to Styra. I am come to crush

Their usurpation, in Geraestus fix

Her ancient laws, and rouse her martial race

Against the Persian, and the Persian's friends.

Array thy force. Tomorrow's early sun

Shall see us march, and ere his second noon

The bird of Athens shall her talons lift

Against the walls of these presumptuous thieves.

They have no walls, Eudemus takes the word,

A righteous, brave Geraestian, exil'd late,

By hospitable Styra late receiv'd.

A forest thick surrounds them, which affords

One scanty passage; but the ax and bill,

Apply'd with vigour, soon will open ways.

Sev'n hundred natives can Geraestus arm,

Who will not fight to rivet on their necks

A galling yoke more fast. The whole defence,

Our oligarchal tyrants have to boast,

Are poor Barbarians, scarce three hundred strong,

Sav'd from the wrecks of those advent'rous ships,

Which round Euboea's rude Capharean cape

Had been detach'd thy navy to surround

In Artemisium's conflict. Now apart

Themistocles to Hyacinthus spake,

While in his care he lodg'd a casket seal'd,

Which held the talent promis'd to his sire:

This for thy father; tell him, I require

The stipulated bands' immediate march;

I wish to see them under thy command.

Thou know'st Diana's celebrated fane

At Amarynthus; if thou canst, young friend,

Be there before me. Pleas'd, the youth departs.

As in excursion from their waxen homes

A hive's industrious populace obey

The tinkling sound, which summons all to swarm;

So, when the trumpet's well-known voice proclaims

To arms, the Styrians, round the banner'd staff,

Which Lampon rais'd, are gather'd. There enjoin'd

To reassemble at a stated hour,

Their clinking armour in their homes they cleanse;

They whet their spears and falchions to chastise

Geraestian rapine. Ere the morning breaks,

Four hundred join Themistocles. He bends

To Amarynthus, seat of Dian pure,

His rapid course. Her edifice sublime,

Which overtops her consecrated bow'r,

The second noon discovers. Just arriv'd,

Carystian helmets round the temple shine,

By Hyacinthus and Nicanor led,

Joint captains. Staid Nicanor was the friend

Return'd from Oreus, who the tidings brought

Of poor Cleora's fate. Th' Athenian hails

The young commander: Gladly do I find

Thy speed surpassing mine; but swift explain,

Who is the priestess in this pure abode?

Then Hyacinthus: She, Eudora nam'd,

For sanctity of manners, rank and birth,

Through this well-people'd island is renown'd;

Authority her hand-maid. Her rich fane

With sumptuous off'rings shines; the wealthiest towns

Her intercession at the thrones of heav'n

Obsequious court, and dread her brow severe.

Of elevated stature, awful port,

She from Briareus, worshipp'd in our walls,

Proud origin derives. She twangs the bow,

The javelin lances through the tusky boar,

Chac'd o'er the temple's wide domain of wood;

Tall nymphs attend her, while the eyes abash'd

Of her own vassals shun her stately step.

Ah! couldst thou win her favour!. . . Haste, replies

The ready chief, to great Eudora say,

Themistocles of Athens humbly sues

To kiss the border of her hallow'd stole.

He calls; the martial harness from his limbs

Attentive slaves unclasp; ablution pure

From limpid streams effaces ev'ry stain

Of his laborious march; a chlamys flows

Loose from his shoulders. Casting from his brow

The plumed casque, uncover'd he ascends

The massy steps of that stupendous fane.

In admiration of the glories there,

Through cedar valves, on argent hinges pois'd,

He passes, where his own distinguish'd form

No ornament excells. In gold the shapes

Of wreaths and garlands, crescents, stars, and suns,

Hung round the columns; on the pavement broad,

Engraven tripods, vases, statues, busts

Of burnish'd brass and silver were dispos'd,

In graceful order. Pictures, where the lips

Seem speaking, limbs to act, and looks express

The various passions, which in varying hues

Exalt the human aspect, or degrade,

Enrich the walls. Orion writhes his bulk,

Transfix'd by arrows from th' insulted queen

Of chastity. Devour'd by rav'nous hounds,

His own, Actaeon's metamorphos'd head

Reclines in blood his newly-branching horns.

Unbid by Oeneus to th' Aetolian feast,

There on her vengeful Calydonian boar

Looks Phoebe down, while red her crescent darts

A flame of anger through disparting clouds.

Compell'd to lave her violated limbs,

Disrob'd Calisto on the fountain's brink

There weeps in vain her virgin vow profan'd.

Here deeds of Mercy smile. Appeas'd, the queen

Folds in the mantle of a silver mist

Pale Iphigenia, from the holy knife

At Aulis wafts, and substitutes the doe

A full-atoning victim. Here she quits

Her Tauric dome, unhospitably stain'd

With blood of strangers. O'er th' entrusted keel,

Of sad Orestes, who her image bears,

To chace the Furies from his haunted couch,

A guardian bland she hovers. Through its length

Magnificent the midmost isle conveys

The terminating sight, where deep and wide

A luminous recess, half-circling, shews

Pilasters chisell'd, and a sumptuous freeze.

An elevated pavement, yet below

The sight, whose level skims a surface broad

Of marble green, sustains the goddess form

In Parian whiteness, emblem of her state,

In height five cubits. Purity severe

O'ershades her beauty. Elegantly group'd

Without confusion, dryads, oreads round,

With nymphs of lakes and fountains fill the space.

Lo! not unlike the deity she serves,

Eudora stands before her, and accosts

Th' advancing hero thus: I trust, thy soul

Some great, some righteous enterprize conceives

Else nothing less might justify the din

Of arms around me, and these banners proud

Fix'd in my presence on religious ground

Inviolably sacred. I would know,

Themistocles, thy purpose. He one knee

Obsequious bends; his lips approach the hem

Of her pontific robe, nor she forbids.

He then replied: I should not have besought

Thy condescension, priestess, had my soul

Less than a righteous enterprize conceiv'd,

Deserving sanction from thy holy, pure,

All-influencing wisdom; to thy feet

I bring my standard, and my sword devote

Spontaneous to thy service. While I cast

My wond'ring eyes on this enrich'd abode,

On thee, its chief embellishment, and know

That impious neighbours in Geraestus rule,

Foul pillagers and miscreants, horror thrills

Thy soldier's bosom; from a town oppress'd

Them to extirpate his vindictive arm

Themistocles exalts. Eudora look'd

Applauding: Go, and prosper, she rejoin'd;

Of this attentive piety, O chief,

Whom glory crowns, thou never shalt repent!

Dismiss'd, he rested; under twilight grey

Renew'd his course. Meridian Phoebus view'd

Compact battalions from their shields and helms

Shoot flames of terror on Geraestian woods.

A guard was station'd, where the narrow path

Gave entrance; thither Hyacinthus led

A chosen troop, and fierce in accent spake:

Train'd to an oar, vile remnants of a wreck,

Drop, ye Barbarian vagabonds, those arms

From your ignoble, mercenary hands;

Th' invincible Themistocles requires

Immediate passage. Dubious paus'd their chief,

A low Pamphylian rower. In contempt

From his inverted spear a pond'rous blow

The youth discharg'd, removing all suspence.

Prone fell the ruffian, like the victim beast,

Stunn'd by a brawny sacrificer's blow,

Before an altar's fire. His troop disperse.

The Styrians active, by the prudent son

Of Neocles instructed, beat the wood,

Wielding the bill and ax in wary dread

Of ambush. No resistance checks the march;

The speeding legion penetrates the shades;

Thence rushing dreadful on Geraestus spreads

A blaze of steel. So fiery sparks, conceal'd

Long in some ancient mansion's girding beam,

There gath'ring force unseen, a passage break

For conflagration to devour a town.

Eudemus joins Themistocles, and thus:

Behold, our miscreant oligarchy rest

On supplication, now their sole defence;

The injur'd people follow; hear the cry

Of imprecation. Sev'n flagitious men,

By rapine, lust, and homicide deform'd,

Those olive boughs profaning by their touch,

Come to pollute thy presence. They approach,

To whom th' Athenian, stern in visage, spake:

Ye little tyrants, who in crimes aspire

To emulate the greatest, do ye come

To render up your persons? else expect

That populace to seize you, and a pile

Of stones to crush your execrable heads.

He turns away. The fife and trumpet sound;

The sev'n surrender mute; Eudemus glad

Secures them, giv'n to Styra's band in charge.

Reviv'd Geraestus to her public place,

Which heretofore the people wont to fill

In free assembly, as her guardian god

Receives the Attic hero. All the way

He passes, curses on the tyrants heap'd

He list'ning hears, from children for their sires,

From wives for husbands, mothers for their sons,

The various victims of unlawful pow'r.

Dishonour'd damsels, early robb'd of fame,

An orphan train, of heritage despoil'd,

Indignant husbands, of their wives depriv'd,

Their joint upbraidings sound. By all the gods,

Th' Athenian bitterly sarcastic spake,

Black spirits, your fertility in vice

Deserves my wonder; in this narrow spot

You are distinguish'd in the sight of heav'n

By multifarious crimes above the king,

Who hath all Asia for his ample range.

Be not offended, my Geraestian friends;

Ere I restore your franchise I will try

If chains and dungeons can allay these flames

Of unexampled wickedness. Thou hear'st,

Eudemus. Now, Geraestians, you are free.

Elect Eudemus archon; of the wealth,

Those wretches gather'd, part to public use,

To suff'rers part distribute. I demand

But this requital; you have felt the woes

Of tyranny; obtaining from my hand

Redress, that hand enable to preserve

The liberty of others; Greece demands

From you that succour, which this happy day

She hath by me imparted. He withdraws

From acclamations and assenting hearts

To give Eudemus counsel. Night is spent.

He swiftly back to Amarynthus flies;

Each tyrant follows; from his dungeon drawn,

The sun, spectator of his chains and shame,

He dreads; in horror, conscious of his guilt,

He shrinks at day like Cerberus, when dragg'd

By Hercules from hell. Th' accepted chief,

His captives ranging in Eudora's sight,

Unfolds their dire variety of crimes,

Left to her sentence; awful she decides:

He, who oppresses, who enslaves mankind,

Himself should feel enthralment, shame and stripes.

Let these to some fell traficker in slaves

Be sold, transported in remotest climes

To witness Greek severity on vice;

So by my voice should Xerxes be condemn'd;

So shall the monster Demonax. The means

I find, Themistocles, in thee. Elate

To hear this great, authoritative dame,

The chief replies: Thy mandate is my law,

Thy equity is mine. Her stately brow

Unbending, she concisely questions thus:

How shall Eudora's favour mark thy worth?

Thy blessing grant, he answers, well appris'd,

That asking little best attains to all.

I may do more, she said; thy ripen'd thoughts

Impart hereafter; my extent of aid

Diana must determine. Now farewell.

He press'd no further, tow'rds Carystus turn'd

His march, and reach'd her portals, while the sun

Wanted three hours to finish his career.

There was a temple to Briareus built,

The son of Titan. In th' enormous shrine

His image vast to thirty cubits rose

In darkest marble. Terror, thick with curls

O'erlaid the forehead, thick th' engraven beard

The spacious chest o'ershadow'd; fifty shields,

As many maces of refulgent brass

The hundred hands upheld. Broad steps around

The pedestal ascended, that before

Th' outstretch'd Titanian feet religious fear

Accumulated off'rings might dispose,

So to propitiate the tremendous god.

In single state before this image stood

Nicomachus, the archon, to receive

His son triumphant with Cecropia's chief.

They now had pass'd th' expanded gates, and slow

Approach'd the shrine in military pomp

Along th' extensive isle. The walls and dome

Replied to fifes and trumpets, to the clink

Of manacles and fetters, piercing sound,

Which told the wearer's guilt. Till now unmark'd,

A figure, grim and ghastly, from the crowd

Darts, and a poniard plunging in the breast

Of old Nicomachus, himself ascends

The pedestal, and lifting his red steel

On high, between the god's gigantic feet

Intrepid takes his station. Terror dims

Each gazing eye; th' illusive medium swells

His size; in fancy'd magnitude he tow'rs

Another son of Titan. As he stands

Intent to speak, Themistocles, alone

Of all th' assembly master of himself,

Cool gives a sign, when thus th' assassin speaks,

In phrase barbaric, and a soften'd look:

I am that Oxus, whom suspicion marks

A traitor to Cleora. Mistress dear,

(At this a torrent gushes from his eyes)

Thou knew'st me faithful. Listen, gracious lord,

Thou tend'rest consort of the tend'rest wife,

O Hyacinthus! listen to my tale,

Thou too wilt own me faithful: On the night,

Thy first of absence from Cleora's bed,

No more thy love to bless, assassins forc'd

Kind Glaucè's dwelling; me they bound; my voice

They barr'd; the priestess and her blameless maids

They strangled. Mounted on a rapid steed

One bore Cleora; two, robust and fell,

Were my unresting guards. Through trackless woods

Not far we journey'd; Demonax was near,

Just march'd to waste Eretria's neighb'ring land.

Conducting me to loneliest shades, my guides

Remain'd a while conferring. One, I knew,

Was Dacus, Dacus whom thy sire preferr'd

In trust to all his menials. Words like these

He utter'd: 'Thus Nicomachus enjoin'd;

'Transporting Oxus to obscurest wilds,

'Destroy, conceal him there. Access by night

'To Demonax obtain; by earnest suit

'From him exact a promise to declare,

'That Oxus brought his daughter, then set free

'Was sent rewarded to his Sacian home.

'Receive the gold proclaim'd; depart. Be sure

'No other name, than Oxus, pass your lips.'

This said, they gor'd me with repeated wounds;

I sunk before them; they believ'd me dead.

Deep in a pit, o'ergrown with brambles thick,

They left me. Woodmen, haply passing, heard

My piercing groans; in pity to a hut

They bore me; herbs medicinal, and time,

Restor'd my strength. His garment he unfolds,

The crimson horrors of his num'rous scars

To shew. Carystians, I my vital breath

Among the Saces on the Caspian drew.

A Genius dwells, a native in the lake,

Who, in his function rising from the deep,

Reveals fou lmurder. Purple are his wings,

His hue is jet, a diamond his eye,

His hair is inextinguishable flame.

Whatever man, his visitation warns,

Neglects to right the dead, he haunts, he drives

To horrid frenzy. On a whirlwind borne,

To me in momentary flight he came,

In terrors clad uncommon; o'er my couch

His clatt'ring pinions shook. His mandate high

I have obey'd, the soulest murd'rer slain.

Now, mistress dear, sole object of my zeal,

Where'er thou art, if fleeting on some cloud

A bright aerial spirit; if below

Among the Genii of the earth, or seas,

Dost trace the caves, where shine carbuncles pure,

Or pluck the coral in cerulean grots,

Thy faithful slave shall follow, still perform

With his accustom'd vigilance thy will.

This said, he struck the poniard through his breast,

The blows repeating till he pierc'd the heart,

Then on the crimson'd pedestal reclin'd

His dying limbs, nor groan'd. What thoughts were thine,

Nicomachus! To thee are open'd wide

Death's portals; cold thy blood begins to flow.

An injur'd son beside thee strives to doubt

That he, who gave him being, now descends

To sure damnation for so black a crime;

But thou remov'st all doubt. Thy sister's ghost

Before thee seems to glide, and point thy way

To Erebus; Briareus' hundred hands

To brandish serpents, lashing from his fane

A fordid, grovelling parricide to hell.

At length, amid confession of thy guilt,

The furies snatch thee from the light of heav'n

To that eternal gloom. The fainting limbs

Of Hyacinthus forth Nicanor bears.

Religious dread beholds the shrine impure

With homicide; nor knows, what man, what god

Must be consulted, or what rite perform'd

To purge from deeds thus ominous the fane;

Till recollection prompts a sudden hope,

That wise, and great, and favour'd from above,

Themistocles may succour—He is gone.

In double consternation all disperse.

Night drops her curtain on the sleepless town.

End of the Thirteenth Book.

THE ATHENAID.
BOOK the FOURTEENTH.

BRIGHT morning sheds no gladness on the face

Of pale Carystu•, who, in visions fram'd

By superstitious fear, all night had seen

Briareus lift his hundred hands to crush

His fane polluted, from the base to rend

Each pillar'd mass, and hurl the fragments huge

Against her tow'rs. Anon is terror chang'd

To wonder, which consoles her. Through her gates,

Amid the lustre of meridian day,

In slow procession, solemnly advance

A hundred youths in spotless tunics white,

Sustaining argent wands. A vig'rous band

Of sacerdotal servitors succeed,

Who draw by turns the silver-graven shape

Of Dian lofty on a wheeling stage

Of artificial verdure. Virgins tall

A guard surround her, each in flowing snow

Of raiment, gather'd in a rosy knot

Above one knee. They tread in sandals white,

O'erlac'd by roseate bands; behind their necks

Of lilly's hue depend their quivers full;

Hands, which can string their tough and pond'rous bows,

Eyes, darting beams severe, discover strength

Unbroke by wedlock, hearts by love untam'd;

Soft light the silver crescents on their heads

Diffuse. Eudora follows in her car;

Across her shoulders hangs a quiver large;

Full-fac'd, a crystal moon illumes her hair.

Penthesilea's Amazonian arm

Had scarce the nerves to bend Eudora's bow.

Her port, her aspect, fascinate the sight;

Before her, passing, tow'rs and temples seem

To sink below her level; she becomes

The single object eminent; her neck,

Her arms, the vestment shuts from view prophane;

Low as her feet descends the sacred stole.

Eight purple-harness'd steeds of milky hue,

Her axle draw. Before her footstool sits

The vanquisher of Xerxes; to the reins

Of argent lustre his obsequious hand

Themistocles applies. A hundred guards

In burnish'd steel, and plumes like ridges new

Of winter's fleeces, not unmartial rank'd

Behind her wheels; the city's widest space

They reach. To all the people, swarming round,

In awful state the priestess thus began:

Impiety and parricide, which spilt

In Juno's sight her servant Glaucè's blood,

Your god, by double homicide profan'd,

May well dismay Carystus. Lo! I come,

Afflicted city, in thy day of woe

Both to propitiate and conciliate heav'n.

Learn first, no off'ring of a hundred bulls,

Not clouds of incense, nor exhausted stores

Of richest wine can moderate his wrath,

Which visits children for the sire's offence,

And desolates whole nations for the crimes

Of kings and chiefs; unless by double zeal,

By violence of virtue man disarm

The jealous thunderer. Happy is your lot;

The capital offender still survives;

On him inflicted vengeance by your hands,

Men of Carystus, will from Jove regain,

And multiply his blessings on yourselves,

Your sons and daughters. Swear then, old and young,

Swear all before the fresh-polluted shrine;

Ere you remove the carnage from that fane,

Unite your valour by a gen'ral oath,

That you will strengthen this Athenian's arm,

Whom I from Dian, in the awful name

Of all the gods and goddesses, adjure

To quell the monster Demonax, by heav'n,

By earth detested, parricide and scourge

Tyrannic o'er Euboea. At these words

She fix'd an arrow in her mighty bow;

Then rising, said; against an impious head

Incens'd Diana thus her war declares.

A cloud, low-hanging, instant by the force

Of springing wind a boreal course began

Tow'rds Oreus; thither bent Eudora's eye.

Swift from her sounding string through folds obscure

Of that thick vapour, as it fleets away,

The arrow imperceptibly descends

To earth. Fortuitous a sulph'rous spark

Flash'd from the cloud. A prodigy! exclaim'd

Themistocles; the holy shaft is chang'd

To Jove's own bolt, and points the forked flame

On Demonax. Swear, swear, the people shout;

A gen'ral exhortation rends the cope

Ethereal. Prompted by the subtil voice

Of her prevailing counsellor, again

Eudora solemn: You for once, my friends,

Must supersede the strictness of your laws.

Though Hyacinthus has not reach'd the date,

Prescrib'd to those who wield the rule supreme,

Elect him archon. Gallant, injur'd youth,

Sage, pious, him Diana best approves,

Him her unerring counsels will inspire.

Me too, her priestess, in your need she lends;

I will promulge the sacred oath to all;

I from pollution will your town redeem.

Unanimous consent is heard. Her car

She leaves. Before Briareus, in her words,

Sons, fathers, youth and age, enlist their spears.

Meantime th' Athenian to Nicanor's home

Resorts. He passes to the chamber sad,

Whence Hyacinthus utters these complaints:

Dost thou, Nicanor, parallel with mine

The Oedipean horrors, or the pangs

Felt by the race of Pelops, and deserv'd?

Thus wouldst thou waken patience in a breast,

Which feels affliction, far surpassing theirs,

Feels undeserv'd affliction? Whom, O Jove!

By error, lust, or malice have I wrong'd?

Cut short my bloom—torment me here no more.

Let Rhadamanthus instantly decide,

If with Cleora I must taste of bliss,

Or with a father drink eternal woe.

Here for a murder'd wife my eyes to stream

Shall never cease; and—execrable sire!

Not grief, but all which furies can excite,

Rage, detestation, horror I must feel

For thee, my origin of life—what life!

Yet, O thou spirit damn'd, the wretch thy son,

The wretch, a father's cruelty hath made,

Perhaps might spare a tear—but Glaucè's ghost,

Thy righteous, hallow'd sister's ghost, forbids

One drop of pity on thy pains to fall—

She skrieks aloud, curse, curse thy father's dust.

Themistocles now enter'd. At his look,

Which carry'd strange ascendancy, a spell

Controlling nature, was the youth abash'd;

As if his just sensations were a shame,

Or his complaints to reach that hero's ear

Were criminal. He falt'ring spake: Thou god

Of Hyacinthus! passion thou dost awe;

Thy presence humbles frenzy and despair.

No, thy own manly fortitude alone

Shall chase despair and frenzy from thy breast,

Serene Themistocles reply'd: Arise,

Thou new-created archon; private cares

To interfere with public, neither men

Nor gods allow, nor justice, nor the sense

Of thy own wrongs. Young friend, the noble toil

Of mind and body in this righteous cause

Will give thee rank with heroes. Thou assist,

Nicanor; share the glory. By the hand

He led the passive youth. The people met

Their young, their honour'd magistrate in joy;

Eudora bless'd them; then in solemn zeal

The purifying rites perform'd, and left

Reviv'd Carystus. To her holy seat,

While on the way her goddess radiant shone,

Themistocles attended; then by dawn

Back to Eretria swiftly press'd his march.

Not Aeolus, the king of winds, could still

Their gust, nor Neptune smooth his troubled waves,

Nor Jove the raging thunderbolt compose

More, than divine Themistocles had tam'd

Oppression, terror, anguish and despair.

This had Geraestus in her evil day,

The panic-aw'd Carystians this had prov'd,

Not less than sad Eretria. Her he finds

Rejoicing, like some widow late forlorn,

Who in the house of mourning with a train

Of pining orphans •…titute had 〈◊〉

But by a hand beneficent uprais'd,

Ungirds the humble sackcloth from her loins,

Nor longer sprinkles ashes on her head,

Amid reviving plenty. Such the change

Among the Eretrians, through the copious aid

Sicinus lent, within Chalcidic walls

Still sedulous abiding. Ev'ry face

The gladd'ning touch of rosy-tinctur'd health

Illumines. Now from ruins clear'd, the streets

By stable feet of passengers are trod;

Th' impending season's turbulence to foil,

Works, under Cleon's and Tisander's eye

Begun, the vig'rous populace, inspir'd

By their protector's presence, now pursue

With industry to match the beaver breed

Laborious and sagacious, who construct

By native art their mansions, to repel

Congealing air, and hoary drifts of snow

In winter's harsh domains. From day to day

The toil continued. Early on a morn

A stranger came, in body all deform'd,

In look oblique, but keen; an eastern garb

Enwrapp'd his limbs distorted; from his tongue

Fell barb'rous accents. He address'd the chief

In Grecian phrase, which falter'd on his tongue:

I am a Tyrian trafficker in slaves;

Returning home from Libya, have been forc'd

By dang'rous winds to this Euboean coast

For shelter. Watching for a friendly gale,

I learn'd from fame, that, warrior, thou dost wield

A sword which prospers, and its captives dooms

To servitude. Themistocles commands

The sev'n Geraestian tyrants from his ship,

Where at the bottom they had gnash'd their teeth

In chains unslacken'd. To the merchant then:

Without a price these miscreants from our climes

Remove, the farthest hence will best repay

The obligation. For a master chuse

The most ferocious savage on the wilds

Of horrid Scythia, or the Caspian bound.

Secure conductors he appoints, a band

To chain them fast aboard. Each irksome step

They count in curses. O'er Euboea lost,

Not as their native region, but the seat

Of pow'r and crimes triumphantly enjoy'd,

They weep, still criminal in tears. But soon,

When from the harbour distance had obscur'd

The well-row'd bark, the fetters from their limbs

The merchant orders, who, another tone,

Another mien assuming, thus began:

Geraestian lords, redemption you derive

From Demonax of Oreus. Me the first

Among his council, Lamachus by name,

He sent to practice on the wily chief

Of Athens, wiles which undermine his own.

They land at Dium, thence to Oreus march;

Where Demonax admits them, as he sat

In secret council: 'Your disasters known

'Obtain'd our instant succour. What intends

'Themistocles?' This answer is return'd.

Not less, great prince, Themistocles intends

Than thy destruction. Of Eretrian blood

All who survive, Geraestus, Styra join

Against thy throne. Carystus from her walls

Will pour battalions, by Eudora fir'd.

The Amarynthian priestess hath declar'd

War in Diana's name. The lab'ring hind

Will quit the furrow; shepherds from their flocks,

Youths from their sport, the keeper from his herd

Will run to arms at her commanding voice,

So prevalent the sound. The tyrant turns

To Mindarus the Persian: Let us march

Swift to destroy the serpent in his egg.

To him the Persian: Demonax forgets,

That winter's rigour chills the soldier's blood.

Dost thou not hear the tempest, while it howls

Around us? Ev'n Mardonius active, bold,

Now rests in covert of Thessalian roofs,

Nor fights with nature. Shall my gen'ral hear

That I conduct the race of hottest climes

In freezing rain and whirlwinds to assail

A strong-wall'd town, protected by a chief

For valour, skill, and stratagem renown'd,

With all th' unsparing elements his guard?

Again the tyrant: Mindarus, confine

Thy Asiatics, till the roses bud;

While I, in howling storms, in damps, or frost

Will head my own Euboeans. Heav'n forbid!

The wary Lamachus subjoins: My lord,

Repose no trust without thy foreign bands

In these new subjects. Gods! th' alluring guile

Of that Athenian would dissolve thy ranks,

To his own hostile banner would seduce

Half thy battalions. Demonax again:

Then policy with policy shall war.

Among th' Eretrians publish, from their hands

This virulent Athenian I require

Bound and deliver'd to my will; their wives,

Their children else, late captives of my sword,

Shall from their state of servitude be dragg'd

To bleed th' immediate victims of my wrath.

Then Mindarus: Should great Mardonius hear,

That I such inhumanity permit,

He would exert his full monarchal pow'r,

My guilty limbs condemning to a cross.

In fury foaming, Demonax exclaims:

I am betray'd. Thee, Mindarus, the son

Of that stern prince, who laid Eretria waste,

Thee Xerxes, future sov'reign of the world,

Appointed my supporter; in this isle

That I, a branch from his imperial root,

Might grow a splendid vassal of his throne.

My cause, his service, now thy heart disowns,

Perverse thy sword abandons. Of my friends

Thou best requited, most ingrate! Preferr'd

Once to have been my son, of treasures vast

The destin'd heir, my successor in sway,

Dost thou desert me, and protect my foes?

But to Mardonius, to the mighty king,

I will accuse thee. By th' infernal pow'rs

Themistocles hath gain'd thee; or thou fear'st

To face that captain on the field of war.

His breast the Persian striking, thus in tears:

Dost thou recall thy parricide to wound

My inmost bosom? though another held

My dear Cleora by the holiest ties,

I would have struggled with despairing love;

But sink o'erwhelm'd by horror of that deed,

Which, blasting such perfection, calls on heav'n

For punishment unbounded. If thou fall'st,

It is the hand of Horomazes weighs

To earth a body overcharg'd with guilt.

Dost thou upbraid me, undeserving man,

Forgetting recent service? Who restor'd

Thy scepter lost? what captain hath reduc'd

Orobia, Dium, half Euboea's towns,

But Mindarus? He these atchievements past

Regrets, but while appointed by his prince

Will urge his duty to accomplish new.

Then come the season for a warrior's toil,

Themistocles shall see my banner guide

Twelve thousand spears; shall see my early sword

To gen'ral battle, or to single fight,

Defy th' experience of his pow'rful arm.

He said, and left the council. All withdrew

But Lamachus. The tiger, when escap'd,

Or fell hyaena from an eager chace

Of dogs and hunters, feels not more dismay,

Mix'd with a thirst insatiate of revenge,

Than shook the monster Demonax, who thus

To Lamachus: Insulted and controul'd

By an audacious stranger, do I rule

In Oreus longer? By a poison'd draught,

Or midnight poniard Mindarus shall die.

Ariobarzanes, second in command,

Will serve me best. The counsellor subjoins:

If secret poison, or a midnight blow

Would remedy the grievance, I would try

Their instant operation; but reflect,

Twelve thousand warriors, masters of thy fate,

Who love their gen'ral living, on his death

Might prove too harsh inquisitors. At least

His courage use once more on open foes;

A valiant leader makes the soldier brave;

So have we found in Mindarus. Reserve

Assassination for a greater mark,

Themistocles. The tyrant quick: Proclaim

Five golden talents on his head the price.

Discreet, though wicked, Lamachus again:

Wouldst thou incense all Greece, whose navy rules

The main? Howe'er triumphant in the field,

No timely help Mardonius could extend.

The genius of Themistocles, the nymph

Of Salamis indignant by his side,

Would range from state to state. Their loud alarm

Would send the whole confederated fleet

Before the earliest breezes of the spring

To pour vindictive myriads on our coast.

Then what our doom? No, Demonax, my lord,

These sev'n Geraestians, while thy recent grace

Transports their minds, and blows the embers hot

Of rage at recent insult, let us league

Against this formidable man by oaths

Before the furies in their neighb'ring cave.

Thyself be present. Yes, the monster said,

I will be present, though Cleora's ghost

Be there, and that vile produce, which disgrac'd

Her virgin zone! Remembrance of his guilt,

He rous'd to strengthen fury and revenge.

There was a cavern in the bowels deep

Of naked rock by Oreus, where the stern

Eumenides possess'd a dusky shrine,

And frown'd in direful idols from the time

That Titan's offspring o'er Euboea reign'd

The enemies of Jove. Around it slept

A stagnant water, overarch'd by yews,

Growth immemorial, which forbade the winds

E'er to disturb the melancholy pool.

To this, the fabled residence abhorr'd

Of hell-sprung beings, Demonax, himself

Predominating daemon of the place,

Conducts the sev'n assassins. There no priest

Officiates; single there, as Charon grim,

A boatman wafts them to the cavern's mouth.

They enter, fenc'd in armour; down the black

Descent, o'er moist and lubricated stone,

They tread unstable. Night's impurest birds

With noisome wings each loathing visage beat;

Of each the shudd'ring flesh through plated steel

By slimy efts, and clinging snakes is chill'd;

Cold, creeping toads beset th' infected way.

Now at the cave's extremity obscene

They reach the sisters three, tremendous forms,

Of huge, mishapen size. Alecto there,

Tisiphoné, Megaera, on their fronts

Display their scorpion curls; within their grasp

Their serpents writh'd. Before them sulph'rous fires

In vases broad, antiquity's rude toil,

To render horror visible, diffus'd

Such light, as hell affords. Beside a chasm,

Whose bottom blind credulity confin'd

By Tartarus alone, with trembling feet

Stood Lamachus, the wicked and deform'd.

An ewe, in dye like ebony, he gor'd;

The dark abyss receiv'd a purple stream.

Next to the dire conspirators he held

A vessel; o'er the brim their naked arms

They stretch'd; he pierc'd the veins; th' envenom'd blood,

A fit libation mix'd for hell, he pour'd

Down the deep cleft; then falt'ring, half dismay'd

At his own rites, began: Ye injur'd men,

Of wealth and honours violently spoil'd,

Implacably condemn'd to bonds and rods

By insolent Themistocles, before

These dreadful goddesses you swear; his death

You vow, by every means revenge can prompt,

In secret ambush, or in open fight,

By day, by night, with poison, sword, or fire;

Else on your heads you imprecate the wrath

Of these inexorable pow'rs. They swore.

Meantime the object of their impious oaths,

Whate'er his future destiny, enjoy'd

The comforts which Eretria now partook

Through him, so justly her preserver styl'd;

While thus reflection whisper'd to his heart:

This Aristides would delight to see,

For this commend his rival. Though my soul

Knows that in quest of glory for this port

I spread th' advent'rous sail, yet sweeter far

She feels that glory, since a gallant race,

Snatch'd from the gripe of misery and death

By her exalted faculties, become

Her means of pow'r and greatness. I confess,

An act like this my rival would achieve,

Nor other motive seek, than acting well.

Perhaps with more attention to myself,

More sudden, more complete is my success.

Lo! in his view Sicinus, just arriv'd

From Chalcis. Him his joyful lord thus hail'd:

We have been long asunder; welcome thrice,

Thou long expected; on thy brow I see

Intelligence. To whom the faithful man:

One moon I spent in Chalcis; I address'd

Nearchus first, of Chares, slain in fight

At Artemisium, successor approv'd

To lead his country's banners. He rejoic'd

In thy arrival; not so frank in joy

Timoxenus the archon. On the day

Of my return that hesitating chief,

While invitation to his roof he gave,

Was dreading thy acceptance. But supreme

O'er him, and all his house, a daughter sways,

In beauty's full meridian left to mourn

The loss of Chares on her widow'd bed.

Not thy Timothea, not Cleander's spouse

Traezene's wonder, not Sandauce young,

Not Medon's sister of th' Oetaean hill,

Though beauteous like the goddesses she serves,

Exceed Acanthè; she may almost vye

With Amarantha's celebrated form,

The pride of Delphian Timon! To behold

The conqueror of Xerxes is her wish.

The hero thought a moment; soon resolv'd,

He spake: The car, the mantle, Sparta's gifts,

The gems from Ariabignes won that day,

When at my feet his proud tiara bow'd,

Provide by dawn. Retire we now to rest.

End of the Fourteenth Book.

THE ATHENAID.
BOOK the FIFTEENTH.

NOW dimm'd by vapours, frequent in his track,

The twelfth division of his annual round

The sun is ent'ring. Long hath vernal bloom,

Hath summer's prime from thy descriptive lays,

O Muse! withdrawn; and now the aged year

Its last remains of beauty hath resign'd;

Transparent azure of autumnal skies

Is chang'd to mist, the air serene to storms.

But inspiration from th' imagin'd balm

Of spring, or summer's warmth, enrich'd by sweets

From flow'ry beds, and myrtles' fragrant bow'rs,

Thou dost not want; then bid thy numbers roll

In cadence deep to imitate the voice

Of boist'rous winter in his mantle hoar.

All night by rude Hippotades the air

Tormented round the foaming harbour wheel'd;

Each mast was pliant to the raging gust,

The mooring cable groan'd. Long slept the son

Of Neocles, unvisited by care,

Till, as the hours attendant on the morn

Had just unclos'd the orient gate of day,

He starts. Acanthè, who controuls her sire,

His active fancy pictures on his mind

Thus pond'ring: Dear Timothea, yet less dear

Than pow'r and fame acquir'd by saving Greece,

Without Chalcidic aid thy husband's hope

Is meer abortion. Chalcis must be gain'd

Best, Aristides, by the purest means,

But well by any. Swift his inner garb

Of softest wool thick-woven he assumes,

Of finer texture then a scarlet vest;

O'er these, in dye of violet's deep hue,

His Spartan mantle negligently waves.

A golden tissue with a crimson plume,

To fence his manly temples and adorn,

He wears. His car is ready; ready wait

Th' Eretrian people, his conducting guard

To Chalcis not remote. The sounding way

Is hard and hoar; crystalline dew congeal'd

Hath tipt the spiry grass; the waters, bound

In sluggish ice, transparency have lost;

No flock is bleating on the rigid lawn,

No rural pipe attunes th' inclement air;

No youths and damsels trip the choral round

Beneath bare oaks, whose frost-incrusted boughs

Drop chilling shadows; icicles invest

The banks of rills, which, grating harsh in strife

With winter's fetters, to their dreary sides

No passenger invite. The cautious chief

In sight of Chalcis to their homes dismiss'd

The whole Eretrian number, but retain'd

His hundred Attic and Laconian friends:

He pass'd the gate before expiring day.

Sicinus, staid forerunner, not unknown

By residence in Chalcis, publish'd loud

His lord's approach. The citizens in throngs

Salute the celebrated man. His gates

Timoxenus the archon throws abroad,

And, true to hospitality, prepares

For his distinguish'd, though unwelcome guest,

Her lib'ral rites. Themistocles he leads

To share a banquet in a sumptuous hall,

Where stands divine Acanthè. Is there wife,

Or maid, or widow'd matron, now in Greece,

Who would not all her ornaments assume

To welcome this known saviour of the Greeks

Where'er he passes? As the queen of heav'n

In dazzling dress to match her goddess form,

Grac'd by the zone of Cytherea, met

Th' Olympian king on Ida; brilliant thus

Acanthè greets Themistocles. Mature

In manhood he, nor bord'ring on decline,

The ornamental cov'ring from his head

Lifts in obeisance; careless curls releas'd,

Thick overshadowing his forehead high,

Present a rival to the Phidian front

Of Jupiter at Pisa. With a look,

Which summon'd all his talents, all his mind

To view, he blends a sweetness, nature's gift,

But heighten'd now by energy of wiles,

Alluring wiles, to melt the proudest fair.

In his approach he moves the genuine sire

Of all the Graces on Acanthè's hand

To print his lips. Invited by that hand,

Close to her lovely side of her alone

He sits observant, while the rich repast

Continu'd. Soon his vigilance perceiv'd,

That her unsated ear devour'd his words,

That from her lip an equal spell enthrall'd

Her doating father, who adoring view'd

Minerva in Acanthè. Now withdrawn

Was all attendance, when the daughter thus:

O first of men, sole grace of each abode

Where thou art present, fortunate are those

Who saw thy actions, fortunate who hear

The bare narration; happier still those ears,

Which from thy mouth can treasure in the mind

A full impression of the glorious tale!

Forgive a woman, whom thy manners tempt

To sue—if yet thy gentleness should deem

Too curious, too importunate her suit,

Thy host Timoxenus at least indulge,

That o'er his festive hall th' achievements high,

Which Salamis and Artemisium saw,

Though now but whisper'd from thy gracious lips,

May sound hereafter loud. The wily chief,

Ne'er disinclin'd to celebrate his deeds,

Now to this lovely auditress, whose aid

His further fame requir'd, a tale began,

Where elegance of thought, and paint of words,

Embellish'd truth beyond her native guise,

In various lengthen'd texture of discourse,

A web of pleasing wonders to ensnare

The hearer's heart. Till midnight he pursues

A strain like magic to the list'ning fair;

Nor yet his thread to Salamis had reach'd,

Extended fine for many sweet repasts

To her inflam'd desire of hearing more.

Timoxenus at length to due repose

Imparts the signal; they disperse. Her guest

Delights Acanthè's pillow; but her sire

In care lies anxious, lest the season rude

Detain that guest, and fatal umbrage give

To Demonax terrific. Morn and eve

Return. Acanthè drinks the pleasing stream

Of eloquence exhaustless in its flow,

Whose draughts repeated but augment her thirst.

Now in description's animating gloss

The various scenes at Salamis exalt

The fair one's mind. The Attic wives and maids

She emulates in wish, and sees in thought

Their beauteous ranks inspiring youth and age

To battle; now the tumult rude of Mars,

The crashing oars, the bloody-streaming decks

Chill her soft bosom; now that snowy seat

Of gen'rous pity heaves; her azure eyes

Melt o'er Sandauce, in her years of bloom

Disconsolately widow'd, and transpierc'd

By death-like horror at her children doom'd

To savage Bacchus. Here the artful man

Dwells on his own humanity, but hides

The stratagem, which policy, not dimm'd

By his compassion, on compassion built,

When to her freedom he restor'd the fair,

Who blameless help'd his artifice to drive

From Greece her royal brother. To the worth

Of Artamanes tribute just he pays.

His own reception by the Spartan state

He colours high, the public chariot giv'n,

The purple mantle, and the coursers proud,

Deriv'd from those, who won th' Olympian wreath

For Demaratus; but omits to speak,

How, while seducing vanity misled

His steps so far from Athens, she conferr'd

The naval guidance on Xanthippus brave,

And rule supreme on Aristides just.

Th' ensnaring story, to this period drawn,

While sev'n nocturnal rounds the planets ran,

Possesses all Acanthè, but disturbs

Her timid father, trembling at the pow'r

Of Demonax; yet fondness oft would smile

On her delight. The evening which succeeds

Themistocles, in fiction mix'd with truth,

Not to Acanthè, but his host, began:

Accompany'd from Sparta by the flow'r

Of her illustrious citizens I gain'd

Her borders, there indignant was appris'd,

That Demonax, whom heretofore I chac'd

From Oreus, now by Persian arms restor'd,

Was trampling on Euboea. Vengeance fir'd

My spirit; fifty of the Spartan troop

At once became associates of my zeal,

With fifty nobles more of Attic blood.

My full stor'd vessels at Eretria's port

From Sunium's cape arriv'd. He now unfolds

The wond'rous series of his recent deeds.

What divers passions, sweet Acanthè, rise

In thy attentive, gen'rous mind? What sighs

Do Hyacinthus and Cleora wake,

What horror black Nicomachus, what joy

Reviv'd Eretria, and Geraestus freed,

What admiration great Eudora's state,

What rev'rence good Tisander's sacred locks,

What detestation Demonax accurs'd?

Behold me here, Themistocles concludes,

Who lift in Athens' and Laconia's name,

A guardian shield o'er Chalcis. But thy sword,

Offensive drawn, shall utterly confound

The homicide thy neighbour. Ah! replies

Timoxenus, alarm'd, thou little know'st

The might of Oreus. Demonax can range

Twelve thousand warriors cull'd from Asia's host,

Of train'd Euboean youth and light-arm'd slaves

A multitude innum'rous on the plain.

His own exactions, and the Persian's boons,

O'erload his treasure. When the annual sun

In his new course three monthly terms hath fill'd,

Expect Mardonius from Thessalia's bounds

On Greece to pour invasion. Ah! what help,

Should we exchange tranquillity for war,

From her own wants could Attica supply,

What Lacedaemon?—Cool th' Athenian here:

Weigh well the grace your Polyphemus dy'd

In carnage grants, reserving for his last,

Most precious morsel, your Chalcidian wealth.

Shall this rich mansion, casket to a gem

Which none can value (earnest here he caught

Acanthè's earnest look) shall this abode

Feel pillage, insult, which my shudd'ring mind

Scarce dares to think, from that despoiler's hand,

Who, scourging half Euboea, in this hour

Dreads thee, great archon? Murderer, who cut

His own Cleora's thread in early bloom,

He trembles now, Timoxenus, at thee,

O bless'd of parents, blessing such a child

As thy Acanthè; he thy vengeance dreads,

O paragon of fathers, dreads thy sword

Unsheath'd with mine. Presumption I disclaim,

Or want of def'rence to the wise like thee.

Accept this roll; contemplate there the force

Of Amarynthus, of Carystus large,

Geraestus and Eretria; add the spears

Of Delphian Timon, of that hero fam'd,

Oilean Medon, who my signal watch

From Atalantè's isle. Remote the time

For action; then deliberate. I wait

Without impatience thy resolves mature.

Retir'd, Acanthè, whose enlighten'd mind

Was bless'd with native talents, as her form

With beauty, strives a while in reason's scale

To weigh th' importance of this high attempt

Propos'd; when something whispers, canst thou doubt

Themistocles a moment? Can his sword

Do less, than conquer? Where the pow'rful arm,

The valour, where the policy to vie

With him, whose faculties no man can reach,

No god raise higher? These conceptions prove

A guide to fancy half the sleepless night

Through all th' enchanting scenery of thought,

Which recollection of his brilliant deeds,

His courage, might, humanity, and grace,

His gentle manners, and majestic frame,

Exhibits lovely, dazzling and sublime

To melt her softness, and her wisdom blind.

Envelop'd now by slumber, in a dream,

Which overleaps all measur'd time and space,

She sees the laurell'd hero, as return'd

From subjugated Oreus. On his spear

The gory head of Demonax he bears.

Her yet untainted purity of heart,

Which in sincerity of grief had mourn'd

Cleora's fate, applauds the just award

By Nemesis and Themis on the guilt

Of parricide. Her nobleness of soul

Enjoys the blessings which Euboea reaps

From such a conquest; but no vision kind

Would interpose a warning to allay

Excess of transport at the conqu'ror's sight.

From fair Acanthè's own retreat at night

A well-embellish'd gallery's long range

Bounds on the splendid chamber, which admits

Themistocles to rest. Acanthè here,

When magisterial duties from his home

Her father call'd, had entertain'd the guest

By morn, and feasted all and every morn

On rich profusion of his Attic words.

The sun was ris'n, and summon'd from her couch

To this accustom'd interview the fair.

Not meeting straight the object of her search,

As each preceding morn, she feels a pain,

That he is absent. With a voice though low

His chamber sounds; to listen she disdains,

Back to her own by delicacy led.

In cautious tones Sicinus with his lord

Was thus discoursing: In my wonted walk,

To watch events since thy arrival here,

I met Nearchus. Haste, he said, apprise

Themistocles that long ere op'ning day

His potent friends Timoxenus conven'd,

Heads of his faction. They refuse to arm.

Some, I suspect, are tainted by the gold

Of Demonax; the major part in all

Obey the timid archon. I have strength,

Which, when Themistocles commands, shall try

To force compliance from the coward's breast;

But would Acanthè, noble dame, espouse

The glorious cause, her prevalence could guide

His doating fondness, and controul his fears.

Enough, replies Themistocles. Again

The learned tutor, fervent and sincere:

If thy persuasive eloquence could win

Her noble spirit to direct her sire,

It would be well. But, O resistless man,

Let thy persuasion moderate its charm;

Let not a gen'rous lady's peace of mind

Become the victim of her winning guest;

The laws of hospitality revere.

Remember too the hymeneal vow,

Remember thy Timothea, fair and kind,

Who bore those children, pupils of my care;

She now in Athens at thy absence pines.

Misjudging friend, Timothea never pines,

When I am urging my career of fame,

Returns the chief. Euboeans must be freed.

She shall know all, and knowing will commend.

Go, charge Nearchus to suppress all thought

Of violence; his valour shall have scope,

Dy'd in Barbarian, not in civil blood.

Thus he, well-caution'd that in Chalcis pow'r

Aristocratic, both in wealth and strength,

Out-weigh'd the people. Then a splendid gem,

Of all his spoils the richest, he selects,

And from his chamber o'er the sounding plank,

Which floors the echoing gallery, proceeds.

Behold Acanthè; not the orient sky

Forth from its amber gates in summer's prime

The goddess-widow of Tithonus sends

More fragrant, nor in blushes more to charm.

A new emotion heaves her gentle breast

Of swelling snow. Th' Athenian distant, mute

Remains. To speak, her hesitating lips

A while, though prompted by her heart, delay;

When, shap'd by chance, this elegant request

Flows from her unpremeditated thoughts:

So much oblig'd already, courteous guest,

By thy narration, I have cause to blush

While I solicit a recital new

Of one exploit, distinguish'd from the rest,

When Ariabignes fell before thy sword

In sight of Greece. Themistocles requir'd

No repetition of the flatt'ring suit,

But in transcendent energy of style,

Impress'd the bright achievement on her mind

More deep, than ev'n by novelty before.

Thus he concluded: Doubly now I bless

Th' auspicious hour when my successful hand

Despoil'd the bravest chief in Asia's host

Of this, my humble off'ring to adorn

The fairest head in Greece. He said, the gem

Presenting graceful, which she turn'd aside,

Rejecting not the giver, but the gift;

And answer'd thus: To heaps of richest gems,

To all the tribute pour'd at Persia's throne,

Thy words alone, thy converse I prefer.

Her look perusing earnest, he proceeds:

Dost thou refuse a token of regard

From one, thy hospitable hand hath bless'd

Beyond th' expression of his grateful tongue?

When, at this hour departing, he again

Perhaps may ne'er behold thee—Ah! depart!

She in unguarded consternation sighs.

Th' Athenian here in seeming sadness thus:

Alas! thy father, I too surely know,

Will never join my arms; can I remain

Till this fair city, populous and rich,

This mansion, thy inestimable worth.

Become the prey of Demonax—This heav'n

Will ne'er permit, she eagerly replies;

Thou wilt protect me—Guardian to distress,

Thou wilt not hurry to desert a friend,

Whose hospitable kindness thou hast prais'd.

Fill, fill with pow'rful argument the mouth

Of me thy suppliant for another week;

My words Timoxenus regards. . . The chief

By interruption sooths her troubled mind:

I came to save thee. If another week

Thou wilt employ. . . I will, I will, she said,

Do thou but stay; my father I will bind

To thee, whom victory can ne'er forsake.

They part; his chamber he regains; not long

He meditates. Acanthè grants her aid

Spontaneous. Now to elevate her soul

By dignity of thought, and gen'rous hope

Of glory, purchas'd by a noble deed,

He thus contrives: On tablets fair and large,

For her deportment tow'rds a doating sire,

His ready style instruction copious draws,

Clos'd in these words: 'Among the guardians heav'n

'To Greece hath destin'd, an exalted mind

'Enrolls Acanthè; let her constant feet

'Pursue her leading genius; grateful flow'rs

'Before her steps shall freed Euboea strew;

'The brightest laurels shall Minerva chuse

'Among the groves of Athens, to entwine

'The first of women with immortal wreaths;

'The Muses all shall triumph in their sex;

'A double rapture Aeschylus shall feel,

'Who, fam'd in martial action, as in song,

'Shall celebrate Acanthè.' To her hand

This by discreet Sicinus is convey'd.

Day after day the fair-one, as inspir'd,

Now forcibly persuasive, now in tears

Of importuning tenderness, assails

A parent fond. She penetrates his heart;

His resolution melts; at length his fears

To her superior guidance yield the rein.

Meantime, instructed by their chief, the train

Of Spartans and Athenians, all dispers'd

Around the hospitable town, proclaim,

To list'ning ears, the well-advis'd design

Against the tyrant Demonax. Not long

Acanthè's purpose is unknown, divulg'd

By vigilant Sicinus; while each mind

Among th' applauding populace is warm'd,

Who venerate her name. Among the chiefs

The archon's weighty approbation known,

Hath banish'd doubt; in council they decide

To march with great Themistocles. Light fame

Mounts on her wings, and through Euboea sounds

The preparations ardent. Shields and spears,

Swords, corselets, helms new furbish'd, banners old

Produc'd, which gallant ancestry had wav'd,

Youth now commences, ripen'd age renews

The exercise of arms. Nearchus loud

Extols Themistocles. Like glorious Mars

From his first trophies on Phlegraean fields

Among encircling brethren of the sky,

Who from his sword perpetual conquest hop'd,

The Salaminian victor is rever'd

In Chalcis. Daily, hourly he surveys

The martial toil. Acanthè's presence aids;

His prudence leads her through these active scenes;

He talks on military themes alone,

And pictures freedom trampling on the necks

Of tyrants and Barbarians. This at length

Might have abated in a virtuous breast

The flame, his guilty policy had rais'd;

But fate and black conspiracy forbid.

End of the Fifteenth Book.

THE ATHENAID.
BOOK the SIXTEENTH.

THAT month severe, unfolding to the sun

A frosty portal, whence his steeds renew

Their yearly round, was clos'd. O'ercome at night

By toil uncommon, lay th' Athenian chief

In early sleep profound, which early freed

His eyes again. In suffocating fumes

He wakes. Upstarting, round his limbs he wraps

Th' external garment, and Sicinus calls,

Who slept not distant. He unbars a door,

Which shews the gallery in flames. Down sinks

The crackling floor. A main sustaining beam

From end to end, transverse another, stands

Yet unconsum'd. Lo! trembling in his view

Acanthè; inextinguishable flames

Between them rage. A moment he devotes

To eye the gulph, which menaces with death

Him and his hopes, in him the Grecian weal.

Would Aristides hesitate thus long

To save the meanest? I before me see

On life's last verge a creature half divine.

Urg'd by that thought, along the burning beam

He rushes swift. He catches in his arms

The loose-rob'd fair-one, clinging round his neck.

Returning, not like Orpheus, who regain'd

Eurydicè and lost, with matchless strength

He holds his prize above the pointed spires

Of fiery volumes, which on either side

Assail his passing steps. The son of Jove

Not more undaunted through the livid blaze

Of Pluto's mansion bore the victim pure

Of conjugal affection back to life,

Alcestis. Lo! Sicinus stops his feet

In their mid course. Thy chamber flames, he cries;

Speed o'er this traverse beam; yon open door

Leads to a passage yet unscorch'd. He guides;

The hero follows; danger here augments.

As through a swelling tide he wades through fire,

Which scath'd his brows, his blazing beard and hair,

Nor spar'd the garments of his precious charge;

Yet her unhurt through that befriending door

His unrelax'd rapidity conveys.

Of pain regardless to the public street

He thence descends; no populace is here;

That front vulcanian fury had not reach'd;

The other draws the throng; confusion there

Prevails, uproar and terror. On he speeds

Through frozen air, and falling flakes of snow,

Unwearied still his lovely burden holds,

Acanthè fainting; her uncover'd breast,

Unless that ringlets of her locks unbound

Let fall at times their loose and silky threads,

Against his cheek with marble coldness press'd.

At last the dwelling of Nearchus nigh

Affords a refuge. On a friendly bed,

But not of rest, Themistocles in pain

Extends his limbs; Acanthè female slaves

Receive and cherish. Absent is their lord,

Who, at the head of military files

In haste collected, early, but in vain

Had issued forth. The palace is consum'd.

Timoxenus to shelter he conducts;

The archon, trembling for his daughter's fate,

Beholds her safe, and feels no other loss.

Now all salute Themistocles; but first

Sicinus spake: Infernal arts have laid

Thy palace waste, Timoxenus. I saw

Sulphureous, glutinous materials blaze

Close to the chamber of my lord's repose.

From lips nigh parch'd by torture of his pains

Themistocles began: My earthly term

If heav'n requir'd me now to close, enough

I have atchiev'd to fill the trump of fame.

To have preserv'd thy daughter, gen'rous host,

Would crown my glory! Medon is not far;

Well would that chief my vacant post supply,

Were I remov'd. But, friends, my hurts are light,

Which common succour of Machaon's art

Will soon repair; yet publish you my state

As dang'rous; words and looks observe; keen spies

To Oreus send. Thus caution'd, each retir'd

Except Sicinus, who address'd his lord:

Wilt thou trust rumour in her flight at large

To sound thy state as dang'rous? Shall a tale

To cozen foes, and try thy new allies,

Pass unrefuted to Cecropian shores,

Rive thy Timothea's bosom, grieve thy friends,

Dismay all Athens, and suspend that aid

Which she might lend thee in some adverse hour?

The hero then: O monitor expert!

Thou hast forestall'd me; instant will I spare

Thee to prevent such fears. Thou canst not stem

The vex'd Euripus. From Geraestus sail;

To my Timothea fly. Thy looks enquire

How to relate my story: Tell her all;

I have been faithful to my nuptial vow,

Yet have succeeded. Let th' Athenians know

My force and destin'd enterprize; forbear

Of them to crave assistance; let them act

As humour sways. Cleander shouldst thou meet,

In kindest greetings tell him, I should prize

Troezenian succour—To its healing folds

I am solicited by sleep—Farewell.

Not so Acanthè's troubles are compos'd.

When lenient balm of Morpheus steep'd the cares

Of other bosoms, in the midnight damps

She quits a thorny pillow. Half array'd,

With naked feet she roams a spacious floor,

Whence she contemplates that retreat of rest,

Inclosing all her wishes, hapless fair,

Without one hope; there stifling sighs, she melts

In silent tears. The sullen groan of winds,

Which shake the roof, the beating rain she hears

Unmov'd, nor heeds stern winter, who benumbs

Her tender beauties in his harsh embrace.

O Love! to vernal sweets, to summer's air,

To bow'rs, which temper sult'ry suns at noon,

Art thou confin'd? To rills in lulling flow,

To flow'rs, which scent thy arbours of recess,

To birds, who sing of youth and soft desire?

All is thy empire, ev'ry season thine,

Thou universal origin of things,

Sole ruler, oft a tyrant. Stealing steps

Full frequent draw Acanthè to the door

Of her preserver. While he sleeps, and pain

Excites no groan to wound her list'ning ear,

Anxiety abates; but passion grows.

Then recollecting his intrepid strides

Through fiery surge, devouring, as he pass'd,

His hair majestie, wreathing round his limbs

In torment, which none else to save her life

Would face, or could endure, unguarded thought

In murm'ring transport issues from her lips.

To boundless obligation can I shew

Less, than unbounded gratitude—Base tongue,

Dar'st thou the name of gratitude profane,

Which is a virtue—Oh! thou impious flame

Within my breast, not gratitude hath blown

Thee from a spark to so intense a heat.

Deprav'd Acanthè, vagabond impure

Of night, from honour and its laws estrang'd,

A robber's criminal desire of spoil

Thou feel'st, a rage of sacrilege to force

The sanctuary of Hymen, and that fire,

Which law, religion, men and gods protect,

Quench on his altar by the hand of vice.

She could no more. A parting cloud reveal'd

The moon. Before the silver light she dropp'd

On her bare knee, enfeebled by the cold;

There fix'd and freezing, from that awful pow'r

Of chastity she seem'd invoking help;

When, newly-waken'd by her piercing moan,

With smarting limbs Themistocles had left

His pillow; keener his internal pang,

To see an image of despair, the work

Of his fallacious art. On his approach,

At once the worn remains of spirit fled

From her cold bosom, heaving now no more.

The twilight glimmers on the rear of night;

His painful arms uplift her from the floor,

And to her couch with decency of care

Commit her lifeless charms. To sense restor'd,

Just as the morn's exploring eye unclos'd,

Acanthè, faint and speechless, by a sign

Forbids his presence; cautious he retires.

Now she indulg'd her agonies of shame

And self-reproach. With horrid visions teem'd

Her agitated brain; black-rob'd despair

Stalk'd round her curtains, in his double grasp

A bloody poniard, and empoison'd bowl

To her sad choice upholding; but ere long

That thirsty, parching malady, which boils

The putrid blood, and ravages like fire,

Invades her frame. Whole days, whole nights she saw

A tender sire beside her pillow mourn,

Her beauties wasting hourly in his view.

To gentler forms delirium then would change;

The moon, so lately to her aid invok'd,

She saw, descending from her lucid sphere,

Assume her shape of goddess, who inspir'd

A soothing thought to seek for health and peace

At her propitious oracle, not rob

So kind a father of his only joy.

Meantime the tidings vague of Chalcis burn'd,

And great Themistocles destroy'd, had fame

Proclaim'd aloud through each Euboean town,

Save where Sicinus, passing to his port

Of embarkation, spreads a milder tale,

Alarming still. Eretria scarce confines

Tisander's falt'ring age; but Cleon thence,

From Styra Lampon hastes; Geraestus sends

Eudemus; Hyacinthus feels no more

His own distress, and rapid, as the bird

Of Jupiter through heav'n's aerial way,

Flies to his guardian friend. Eudora, skill'd

In healing juices, condescends to mount

Herself the sacred axle, and her state

Displays in Chalcis worshipping her wheels.

The archon waits respectful on her steps,

When she salutes th' Athenian, still recluse

From public view, though nigh restor'd. He bends

The knee before her. Him with stately grace

She raises, then addresses: Glad I see

Thy convalescence; to impart my help

Became a duty. So Diana will'd,

By me consulted in her solemn grove

Mysterious; where an impulse warn'd my soul,

That none, but thou, can set Euboea free,

Protect the temples, and her tyrant quell.

He kiss'd her sacred vestment, and replied:

I now perceive how pow'rful are thy pray'rs.

To them, so favour'd by the gods, I owe

My preservation, which, O learn'd and wise,

Forestalls thy skill! Ah! since thy face hath deign'd

To cheer this city, by a long abode

Complete the blessing. As to ancient Troy

Was that Palladian image sent from heav'n,

Be thou to Chalcis. At thy presence known

Pale Demonax will shrink. But first apply

Thy lenient succour to my friend's distress,

Whose daughter pines in sickness, and deserves

Thy full regard, most holy and benign.

To sad Acanthè's couch the archon leads

Eudora. Soon from Oreus tidings stern

Awake the native terrors in his heart;

In haste he greets Themistocles: O guest!

Fierce Demonax assembles all his force,

But first will try an embassy; expect

Within three days the tyrant's fell demands,

Which, not accepted, bring th' avenging waste

Of his redoubled fury on our heads.

Is he so poor in counsellors, began

Th' Athenian calm? Amid disabling storms

In this rough season will th' insensate brute

Drag to the field his Asiatic host?

He thinks me dead; remember thou, my friend,

Themistocles is living, nor conceive

The rash, disturb'd and self-tormenting breast

Of such a tyrant, whom the furies haunt,

Hath fortitude and conduct to withstand

Themistocles in arms. Not half-reviv'd

Subjoins the archon: Thou alas! may'st want

The brave auxiliars promis'd to thy arms;

To thee alike unfriendly are the storms

Which lock our harbours; not a bark can sail;

Illustrious Medon dares not plough the surge

From Atalantè; nor on Attic shores

Of our distress can Aristides hear.

True, answers firm Themistocles, though stung,

Nor shall we want him. Is not Cleon here,

Nearchus, Lampon, sharers of success

In my preceding conflicts? Of no price

Is staid Eudemus, Hyacinthus brave?

Is not Eudora present, sacred dame,

Who will her face majestical unveil

Among confederated ranks to bless

The Eleutherian banner, and inspire

Your populace with all religion's flame?

Yon despicable embassy prepare

To answer nobly, or let me be heard.

Now to this chamber summon all my friends.

Timoxenus conven'd them. Swift the chief

Dispatch'd them ardent to their native states,

Thence their collected citizens in arms,

The guardians of Chalcidic walls, to lead.

Three days elaps'd; the embassy arriv'd.

Amid the senate, on his chair of state,

The archon sat. Th' Athenian's sure support

Behind is planted. Fierce in tone and look

Th' Orēan herald represents his lord:

Ye men of Chalcis, Demonax requires

That you acknowledge Xerxes; that your gates

A Persian garrison admit. Be wise;

Refusal draws perdition on your heads.

Timoxenus turns pale; his falt'ring lips

Make no reply. Th' indignant senate mourn

Their state dishonour'd by a timid chief,

When timely steps Themistocles in sight;

Whose name is murmur'd through th' applauding court.

As at the aspect of a single cloud,

Known by the trembling seaman to contain

Destructive blasts, the sail he swiftly furls

With anxious wish for shelter in the lee

Of some still shore; the herald thus relax'd

His alter'd features. Arrogance abash'd

Foreboded ruin from that mighty arm,

In vigour brac'd by unexpected health.

In act to speak, the hero stretch'd his hand.

To fear and impotent distress he seem'd

Extending refuge like a poplar tall,

Whose grateful branches cool the green descent

To some pellucid fountain, where his course

Th' o'erweary'd passenger suspends to slake

His eager thirst beneath such friendly shade.

Bent to provoke the tyrant, and mislead

His rashness, thus Themistocles—his look

Transpierc'd the humbled herald while he spake:

Begone, base Greek, from Chalcis. In her name

Defiance bear to Demonax, whose head

Shall on the gate of Oreus be affix'd;

Thine to some trafficker in slaves be sold.

To Oreus back th' astonish'd herald flies,

On whose report his impious lord incens'd

Blasphemes the gods. The Furies he invokes,

To them, a human sacrifice, devotes

His first Chalcidian captives. From his host

Two chosen myriads on the plain he pours.

Brave Mindarus, by duty to his king

Compell'd to service which his sword abhors,

Ariobarzanes, second in command,

Barbarian homicide, whose joy is blood,

The sev'n Geraestians sworn to deeds of hell,

With Lamachus, of foul mishapen frame,

Attend the tyrant, spreading to rude storms

His banner fell. So Satan from the north

Of heav'n, his region once, with Moloc grim,

Beëlzebub and Nisroc, led the host

Of impious angels, all the destin'd prey

Of Tartarus. Meanwhile th' Athenian sat

Serene in Chalcis; his auxiliar bands

Successively arriv'd. Eretria sent

Twelve hundred spears; Carystus doubled those;

Beneath her standard Amarynthus rang'd

Eudora's vassals; Styra cas'd in steel

Five hundred warriors tried; seven hundred more

Geraestus; Chalcis from her loins supplied

Four thousand youths, Nearchus was their chief.

Th' Athenian's care had trac'd the region round.

A level champaign tow'rds septentrion skies

Extends; its western border is the frith,

Whose shore is bold, and press'd by waters deep.

A line of anchor'd vessels, which o'erlook

The land, the chief disposes here; whose crews

Were menials, train'd to missile weapons light.

Full opposite, and cross the plain, he mark'd

A quarry, parent of the domes and tow'rs,

Exalting Chalcis o'er Euboean towns.

The subterranean passages by all

Inscrutable, but lab'ring hinds, who cleave

Earth's marble womb, he garrisons with bands

From that rough breed, supported by a force

Of heavy-mail'd Chalcideans, left in charge

To bold Nearchus. So the watchful bees

Within their hive lie dangerous on guard

Against invasion of their precious stores,

Their industry and state. By morn the care

Of active scouts proclaims the adverse host

Not far, though yet unseen. The trumpet sounds

To fight; Eudora mounts her car, and wields

The arms of Dian. Through the spacious streets,

Where under ensigns of their sev'ral states

The warriors blaze in steel, from band to band

She, by her prompter well-instructed, tow'rs

Like new-born Pallas from the head of Jove.

Her voice exhorts, her sentiments inspire,

Her majesty commands them; all are fir'd,

All, but Timoxenus. With armed files

In safe reserve, though destin'd to remain

Behind the walls, he dreads th' important day.

His gen'rous daughter, whose distemper'd mind

Eudora's converse had begun to calm,

Not so debas'd her thoughts; her country's cause

She felt; heroic talents she admir'd;

Him, who possess'd them all, her heart recall'd,

Though with abated passion. All his tale

Of Salamis, the stratagem deriv'd

From conjugal affection, from the sight

Of forms belov'd to animate the brave,

Recurr'd; she summon'd to her languid bed

The most distinguish'd matrons, them besought

To mount the walls, and overlook the fight,

In all its terrors. Imitate, she said,

The Attic dames, that Chalcis may partake

Of Attic glory. They approving went.

O mortals, born to err, when most you smart

With self-reproach on guilty passion's wound,

Attempt one act of virtue! then your breasts

Will, like Acanthè's now, enjoy a calm

In supplication thus her wonder breaks:

Ye lights, who, shining on my darkness, deign

To lift the veil of error from my eyes,

Protecting pow'rs, accept Acanthè's pray'r

For this her native city, for a sire

Too kind, for great Themistocles, who draws

The sword of Justice—Now with purer lips

I sound his name—And, O illustrious dame!

Of all Athenian excellence the flow'r,

Bless'd in a hero's love, the precious gift

Of hymeneal Juno, couldst thou know

What I have suffer'd by an envious flame,

What still I suffer, while remorse awakes

A thought of thee, thy gen'rous soul would melt

In pity, ev'n forgiveness, when I vow

To ev'ry chaste divinity invok'd,

That I will see Themistocles no more.

This victory accomplish'd, renders back

Her virtue late a captive, which recalls

Affections pure, and sanctity of mind,

Still thoughts, and hope, restorative of peace.

But on a diff'rent victory intent

Themistocles within Chalcidic walls

Contains his ready host; nor means to throw

The portals open, nor display the face

Of battle, till the enemies in sight

Yield full advantage in his choice of time.

So in his deep concealment of green reeds

On Ganges' margin, or the flaggy strand

Of Niger's flood, from Aethiopia roll'd,

The alligator vigilant maintains

His fraudful ambush, that unwary steps

May bring the prey to his voracious jaws.

End of the Sixteenth Book.

THE ATHENAID.
BOOK the SEVENTEENTH.

SICINUS, long by unpropitious winds

Lock'd in Geraestus, to their fickle breath,

Half-adverse still, impatient spread the sail.

Six revolutions of the sun he spent

To gain Phaleron. To his lord's abode

He swiftly pass'd, when chance his wond'ring eyes

On Aristides fix'd. An open space

Reveal'd the hero, issuing sage commands.

Th' omnipotent artificer of worlds

From chaos seem'd with delegated pow'r

To have entrusted that selected man.

From ashes, lo! a city new ascends,

One winter's indefatigable toil

Of citizens, whose spirit unsubdu'd

Subdues calamity. Each visage wears

A cheerful hue, yet solemn. Through the streets

Successive numbers from adjacent fields

Drive odorif'rous loads of plants and flow'rs,

Which please the manes. Amaranth and rose,

Fresh parsley, myrtle, and whate'er the sun,

Now not remote from Aries in his course,

Call'd from the quick and vegetating womb

Of nature green or florid, from their seats

Of growth are borne for pious hands to weave

In fun'ral chaplets. From the Grecian states,

To honour Athens, their deputed chiefs,

Cleander foremost, throng the public place;

Whence Aristides with advancing speed

Salutes Sicinus: Welcome is thy face,

Good man, thou know'st; from Athens long estrang'd,

Now doubly welcome. In thy looks I read

Important news. Retiring from the crowd,

Swift in discourse, but full, Sicinus ran

Through all the feries of his lord's exploits,

Which drew this question: Has thy patron ought

To ask of Aristides? Silent bow'd

Sicinus. Smiling then, the chief pursu'd:

Do thou attend the ceremonial pomp

Of obsequies to morrow; when the slain

At Salamis receive their just reward

From us, survivors by their glorious fall.

I have detain'd thee from Timothea long,

The first entitled to thy grateful news.

Now to that matron, whom beyond himself

He priz'd, Sicinus hastens. At her loom

He finds her placid o'er a web, whose glow

Of colours rivall'd Iris. where intent

She wove th' atchievements of her lord. Her skill

Had just portray'd Sandauce in the arms

Of Artamanes, when her children's doom

Congeal'd her breast. Themistocles in look

Expresses all that subtlety humane,

Which cozen'd superstition of her prey;

His godlike figure dignifies the work.

Two boys, two lovely little maids, surround

Th' illustrious artist, while their eyes pursue

Their mother's flying fingers in delight

Attentive. But their tutor once in view,

From absence long regretted, light with joy

To him they bound. Sicinus melts in tears

Of soft affection. They around him lift

Their gratulating voices, on his neck

Cling, and contend for kisses from those lips

Approv'd in kindness; as a flutt'ring brood

With chirping fondness, nature's sweetest note,

Inclose their feather'd parent, who attunes

Her tender pipe, and spreads endearing plumes.

Sicinus, cries Timothea, thou dost bring

Auspicious tidings; from my hero I

Expect no less. Unaided by the state,

A private man, like Hercules he went,

In his own pow'rs confiding, and secure.

Sit down, thou witness of my husband's worth,

Thyself a proof of his discerning choice

In thee, good man, by me and mine rever'd,

Discreet and faithful. No, Sicinus spake,

Thou art that proof, most faithful, most discreet,

Most excellent of women. Come, she said,

Suppress my praises; let me hear of none,

But his; and copious let thy story flow.

Glad through his whole heroic theme the sage,

By time to Attic eloquence inur'd,

Expatiates large; where loftiness of plan

Sustain'd by counsel, with exhaustless art

Pursu'd, now brought to valour's final proof,

Must end in sure success. His lord's commands

Observing strict, Acanthè's precious worth,

In talents, form and manners, he describes;

How she the aid of Chalcis had procur'd,

Her favour how Themistocles had won.

If he pursue to victory his plan,

Timothea said, and borrow from her hand

The means of glory, and the gen'ral good,

Tell him, that I can imitate with joy

Andromachè, who foster'd on her breast

Her Hector's offspring by a stol'n embrace.

Not such thy lot, sole mistress of a form

Match'd by perfection of the mind alone,

Sicinus cheerful answer'd. I attest

To this my firm belief th' all-ruling sire,

Let Horomazes be his name, or Jove.

Thou giv'st me transport—Thou hast leave to smile,

My good Sicinus, she replies—But heav'n

I too attest, that transport I conceive

Less for my own, than fair Acanthè's sake.

So amiably endow'd, so clear in fame,

Her purity resigning, she, alas!

Had prov'd the only suff'rer. Woman fall'n,

The more illustrious once, the more disgrac'd,

Ne'er can resume her lustre. Laurels hide

A hero's wanton lapse. The Greeks would bless

The guile which serves them, but to endless shame

The gen'rous auth'ress of that service doom.

Thou said'st, my husband from Cleander's sword

Solicits help; Cleander is my guest

With Ariphilia; ready in this port

His squadron lies; he plough'd the seas in quest

Of earliest action for the common cause.

Come, they are waiting for the night's repast.

She rose; Sicinus follow'd, and renew'd

In Ariphilia's and Cleander's ear

The wondrous narrative, but cautious veils

Acanthè's love. Timothea's looks approv'd.

He then concluded: Thus, to battle rous'd,

The force of half Euboea cas'd in steel

Against the tyrant Demonax I left;

But in the chace of that devouring wolf

On thee relies Themistocles for help,

Undaunted chief of Troezen. He replies:

Should I withhold it, by th' immortal gods,

The titles both of soldier and of friend

Were mine no longer. Ariphilia then,

Sweet as a vernal flow'r in early prime,

A Grace in manner, Hebè in her form:

Say, gentle sage, of Delphi's rev'rend priest,

Of Haliartus, and Oïleus' son,

Kind guests of mine, no tidings dost thou bear?

He answers: Them in Atalantè's isle

The turbulent Euripus yet confines;

They soon, fair matron, to thy lord and mine

Will add their strength and level from its base

The tyrant's hold. Amid this converse sweet

The warrior-poet Aeschylus appears,

A grateful visitant to all. He spake:

Fair dame, admit me, introducing men

Who saw thy gallant consort yester morn

Erecting trophies; men themselves renown'd,

Oïlean Medon, and Apollo's priest

Long lost, whom I, unknowing of their fate,

Have clasp'd in transport, as Laertes' son,

When he review'd his metamorphos'd friends

In Circe's island to their pristine forms

Uprising by her charms. Timothea glad

Salutes the ent'ring heroes, Medon known

Before, Leonteus, Delphi's holy seer

With Artemisia's brother, strangers all,

But of deportment to command regard.

Then spake the Locrian: First of matrons, hail!

On Salaminian sands we parted last.

I have been long in Atalantè's isle

Sequester'd; but, determin'd to attend

The fun'ral honours which the morning pays

To brave Athenians slain, an hour serene

To cross the strait Euripus I embrac'd

For Chalcis. There thy consort fresh I found

In gather'd palms from Demonax o'erthrown

That day in battle. Hear the glorious tale,

Which from Themistocles himself I learn'd.

He, well-inform'd, the chiefs in either host

Distinctly told, their history, their names,

Their birth and deeds, on Hyacinthus most,

As most esteem'd, enlarg'd. That hapless youth

Was husband to Cleora; daughter she

Of Demonax was poison'd by her sire.

Survey this tablet, which before my sight

Thy hero took, with readiness of skill

Delineating the fight. Shew this, he said,

To my Timothea, friendly thou explain.

This part is Chalcis, this a champaign wide;

Here flows the sea, there winds a quarry dark.

Conceive a river by impetuous floods

O'erswol'n, and spread irregular, and wild,

Beyond its bounds; tumultuous thus the foes

At first appear'd. Expecting to surprise,

Themselves surpris'd at unexpected bands,

Through open'd portals issuing to the plain,

Are forc'd, dishearten'd by a toilsome march,

To range their numbers for immediate fight.

The wary son of Neocles suspends

Th' attack, till bursting drifts of southern clouds

Beat on the faces of his harrass'd foes

A storm of blinding sleet; then rushes down

In three deep columns. Of th' Orēan line

The right, which Mindarus conducting wheels

Along the sea's flat margin, sore is gall'd

By unremitted show'rs from bows and slings

On well-rang'd vessels. Lamachus commands

The left. Nearchus from the quarry pours

An ambush'd force, and breaks the hostile flank.

Compact of vet'rans, cull'd from ev'ry state,

That wedge of war, whose bristly front display'd

Athenian spears and Spartan mingling beams,

(Themistocles the leader) slow but sure

Bears down the center. At a second breach

The line gives way to Cleon, at a third

To swift Carystians. Not a life is spar'd

By wrong'd, incens'd Eretrians, not a life

By Hyacinthus, boiling with revenge

For his Cleora; while her cruel sire

Exerts a desp'rate valour to revive

Hope in an army spiritless by toil,

By sudden onset broken, at the name

And sight of thy Themistocles abash'd.

The rout is gen'ral. In the bloody chace

Five thousand slain the conquerors despoil.

Thy husband, prudent in success, preserves

Two thousand heads, all Persian, to redeem

Eretrian captives from the tyrant's bonds.

He, thus defeated, not subdu'd, retir'd

To Oreus. Pow'rful remnants of his host

He, draws within her circuit; furnish'd well

From boundless treasure, threatens there to hold

A firm defence, till, summon'd by the spring,

Mardonius quit Thessalia, and employ

The whole confederated pow'r of Greece.

That threat Themistocles will render vain,

Exults Timothea; he unfinish'd leaves

No toil begun. Again the Locrian chief:

Now my first duty is discharg'd; the next

To Ariphilia from her guest is due.

O soft in virtue, elegantly fair,

Cleander's favour'd paranymph retains

Thy hospitable kindness ever dear;

Thine too, my gallant host, by Neptune bless'd

In his own priestess, and with brightest fame

On his own floods adorn'd. The pleasing hours

All spend in mutual gratulation sweet,

Till for the morn's solemnity they part.

Below th' Aegalean mountain, where the king

Of humbled Asia on his golden throne

Was seated late, spectator of his shame

At Salamis, a level space extends

To Neptune's border. Green Psittalia there

Full opposite exhibits, high and large,

A new erected trophy. Twenty masts

Appear, the tallest of Phoenician pines,

In circular position. Round their base

Are massive anchors, rudders, yards, and oars,

Irregularly pil'd, with beaks of brass,

And naval sculpture from Barbarian sterns,

Stupendous by confusion. Crested helms

Above, bright mail, habergeons scal'd in gold,

And figur'd shields along the spiry wood

Up to th' aerial heads in order wind,

Tremendous emblems of gigantic Mars.

Spears, bristling through the intervals, uprear

Their points obliquely; gilded staves project

Embroider'd colours; darts and arrows hang

In glitt'ring clusters. On the topmost height

Th' imperial standard broad, from Asia won,

Blaz'd in the sun, and floated in the wind.

Of smooth Pentelic marble on the beach,

Where flow'd the brine of Salamis, a tomb

Insculptur'd rose. Achievements of that day

When Asia's navy fell, in swelling forms

Fill'd on three sides the monument. The fourth,

Unfinish'd, open'd to th' interior grave.

Now, through Minerva's populace, who kept

Religious silence, first white-vested maids,

Who from the strand of Salamis had seen

The patriots slain, their sepulchre approach

With wreaths and garlands; then of chosen youths

A troop, whose valour had the fight surviv'd.

The younger matrons, husbands ripe in age,

Nor less in fame, succeed. Of either sex

The elders follow. Kindred of the dead

Come next, their wives, their children. Urns, which hold

The sacred ashes, are in open cars

Discover'd. One close chariot is reserv'd

For them, whose bodies fate from search conceal'd.

Last Aristides, in his civil robe,

Attracts the gazing multitude; his wheels,

Myronides, Xanthippus, Cimon great,

Aminias, Aeschylus, and ev'ry chief

For prowess known attend. Around the tomb

Are plac'd the children; roses in the bud

Entwine their brows; their little grasp upholds

Green sprigs of myrtle; well instructed, all

Refrain from weeping o'er paternal dust,

Deposited by glory in the grave.

A high tribunal Aristides mounts;

Near him, on ev'ry side, are seats assign'd

To strangers held in honour. Medon there,

Leonteus, Timon, and the brother known

Of Caria's queen, Cleander, numbers more

From states ennobled in their names are seen.

The godlike man uprises; on the tomb

His eyes he fixes first; their lustre mild

He then diffuses o'er th' assembly vast,

Where not a tongue is heard, nor gesture seen.

So through unclouded skies the argent lamp

Of Dian visits with her light benign

A surface broad of water, where no breeze

Excites a swell, nor sighs among the reeds.

Your fathers, wise and lib'ral, he began,

Appointed public obsequies to all

Who die in battle for the public good,

Ye men of Athens. Not a groan, or tear

Must violate their ashes. These have gain'd

What all should envy; these, by virtuous death,

The height of human excellence have reach'd,

Have found the surest path to endless joy

With demigods and heroes in those fields,

Which tyrants ne'er can enter to molest

The blissful region; but are far remov'd

To realms of horror, and from righteous Jove

Endure the pains they merit from mankind.

There, if retaining, as they surely must,

The memory of things belov'd on earth,

It will enhance their happiness to know

Their offspring cherish'd, and their wives rever'd

By grateful Athens, whom their glorious fall

Exalts, whose daughters they preserv'd from shame,

Whose sons from bonds. This bliss benignant Jove,

Who loves the patriot, never can withhold

From them, who little would deserve that name,

Unless those sweetest charities they feel,

Paternal cares, and conjugal esteem,

The props of public and domestic weal.

Them to defend, Athenians, to maintain

Inviolate your altars, tombs and laws,

Let contemplation of the present rites

Give principle new strength. Behold a foe,

Who hath profan'd your ancestors in dust.

Lo! on a cross Leonidas affix'd,

His patriot bones expos'd to bleaching winds

By that Barbarian, Xerxes. Kings alone,

Obtuse of mind, illiberal, the brutes

Of human nature, can devise and act

Barbarities like these. But such a foe

Leagues Heav'n against him. Nemesis will join

With Grecian Mars, and all her furies plant

His foot on Asia's boundaries, to shake

An impious tyrant on his native throne.

Then of the patriot dead, whose swords prepar'd

Your way to glory, and achiev'd their own,

This recent tomb, when dress'd in eastern spoils,

Will best delight their manes, and proclaim

To Gods and men your gratitude and arms.

He paus'd. Aegaleos echo'd to the sound

Of acclamation; Salamis reply'd.

But as the sun, when casual clouds before

His intercepted light have pass'd away,

Renews his splendour, so the righteous man

In eloquence and counsel thus again

Breaks forth: Xanthippus, in the gales of spring,

To brave the coast Barbaric you decree;

While, on Boeotia's plains, your phalanx meets

Mardonian ranks. Now hear of wond'rous acts

To you unknown, unpromis'd, just perform'd

By an Athenian. Winter hath not slept

Inactive; your Themistocles hath rous'd

That sluggish season by the clang of war;

A force creating by his matchless art,

He hath o'erthrown fierce Demonax, and coop'd

Within his fort. Delib'rate swift, my friends,

How to assist your hero; Justice calls

On ev'ry tongue ingenuous so to style

Themistocles; who wants but slender help.

Your skill, Athenians, in surmounting walls

Excels in Greece. Select experienc'd bands;

An instantaneous effort may o'erwhelm

Beneath the ruins of his last retreat

Euboea's scourge, whose prevalence might shut

That granary of Athens, and transfer

To Asia's num'rous camp your needful stores.

All in applauding admiration hear

Disinterested virtue, which exalts

A rival's merit. But thy gen'rous breast,

To all superior in sensation high

Divine Timothea, entertains a warmth

Of grateful rapture in thy lord's behalf,

Which shines confess'd. Sicinus, at her side,

Condemns his lord, who nothing would request

Of Aristides; him, who grants unask'd,

His soul adores. Aminias, rising, spake;

A fearless warrior, brother to the bard,

Like him sincere, less polish'd, learn'd and wise,

By right intention more than conduct sway'd:

Who can for all deliberate so well,

As Aristides singly? Let us fight;

But with sole pow'r of counsel and command,

Throughout this war's duration, by a law

Invest him uncontrollable. Up starts

The interrupting patriot, nor permits

The people's confidence in him to grow

In wild excess: Ne'er yet th' almighty sire

Created man of purity to hold

A trust like this. Athenians, mark my words;

I am your legal military chief;

If your immediate safety should require

An use of pow'r, unwarranted by laws,

I will exert it, not accept as law;

The censure or acquittal of my act

With you shall rest. At present I advise,

That from Phaleron Aeschylus transport

Two thousand skilful vet'rans. Him the seed

Of Neocles approves; not less in arms

Than arts excelling, him your warriors prize.

Them, ere two monthly periods of the sun,

You cannot want. Thick verdure must invest

The meadows, earth her foodful stores mature,

Before Mardonius can his numbers lead

From Thessaly remote. Ere then, my friends,

Themistocles will conquer, and erect

Cecropia's standard on Orēan walls;

Your timely aid he timely will restore

To fill the army of united Greece.

The gen'ral voice assents, and all retire,

While to her home Timothea brings her guests.

To her Sicinus prudent: Not an hour,

Till I rejoin thy consort, should be lost.

She then: Most faithful, from my arm receive

This bracelet rich in gems, Barbaric spoil;

Bear this to Chalcis, to Acanthè give;

Say, how I prize her elevated mind,

Enabling my Themistocles to quell

The hateful breed of tyrants. Further say,

The man engaging her connubial hand

I should esteem the favourite of gods.

Stay; Haliartus shall the present bear.

Thou to my lord a messenger of love

Shalt go, Sicinus; words to thee I leave;

My heart thou know'st. One fervent wish impart,

That he in private, as in public ties,

With Aristides may at last unite.

So spake the first of women. Troezen's chief

Subjoin'd: Sicinus, wait till morn; embark

With these our friends of Atalantè's isle

Aboard my squadron; soon will southern gales

My succour waft, and jointly we proclaim

Brave Aeschylus to follow. Let us greet

Him, who our valour into action calls

For ev'ry chief to envy; him to clasp

My bosom pants, a hero, who surmounts

The sloth of winter while so many brave

Hang up their weapons. Ariphilia heard,

Sat mute and sad. To her Timothea thus:

We, who are wives of soldiers, will remain

Together, cheerful watch for tidings dear

Of their achievements, and rejoice at home.

End of the Seventeenth Book.

THE ATHENAID.
BOOK the EIGHTEENTH.

THREE days transport Cleander and his friends;

Timoxenus admits such welcome guests,

Who bring new succours. From Chalcidic walls

Th' Athenian chief was absent. With a pace

Unstable yet, a calm, but languid mien,

To grace her father's board Acanthè leaves

Her chamber; pale, but fragrant as the rose,

Which bears the hue of lilies, she descends.

Her soon the Carian, mindful of his charge,

Thus with Timothea's salutation greets:

A costly bracelet, from her beauteous arm

Th' espous'd of great Themistocles unclasp'd

On my departure, and in words like these,

Of gracious tone, deliver'd to my care:

"Bear this to Chalcis, to Acanthè give;

"Say how I prize her elevated mind,

"Enabling my Themistocles to quell

"The hateful breed of tyrants. Further say,

"The man engaging her connubial hand

"I should esteem the favourite of gods."

Timoxenus is pleas'd; Acanthè's cheeks

A burning blush of perturbation feel.

Not soon recov'ring from a start of thought

At the first mention of Timothea's name,

She took, she kiss'd the present, and disguis'd

Her conscious trouble under busy care

To fix the bracelet in its lovely seat.

The guests are plac'd around; her presence charms

The banquet. Though the lustre of her eyes

Grief had eclips'd and sickness, though her mouth

Had lost the ruby tinct and pleasing flow,

By melancholy silence long confin'd,

Her gestures speak the graces of her soul.

Troezene's captain, lively as the lark

Whose trill preludes to nature's various voice,

Begins discourse: Perhaps, accomplish'd fair,

Thou dost not know the messenger, who brought

Timothea's present, Haliartus styl'd;

He is deriv'd from Lygdamis, a name,

Ionia boasts. His daughter, Caria's queen,

Fam'd Artemisia, heroine of Mars,

Calls Haliartus brother; but from Greece

Could never alienate his truth. His sword

From violation, in his first essay

Against Barbarian multitudes, preserv'd

Bright Amarantha, consort to the king

Of Macedon, more noble in her sire,

Who sits beside thee, Timon, Delphi's priest.

Then Medon: How unwilling do I check

Our social converse. Generous host, no tongue

Can duly praise thy hospitable roof;

Yet we must leave its pleasures; Time forbids

Our longer stay. Two thousand Locrian spears,

Three hundred Delphians Atalantè holds;

Them Aeschylus arriving will expect

To find in Chalcis. Gladly shall I hail,

Timoxenus rejoins, your quick return,

To guard these walls. Themistocles is march'd

To conquer Aegae, rather to redeem

Her state aggriev'd, which courts his guardian hand.

Sicinus here: Illustrious men, farewell;

In Aegae soon Themistocles shall know

Of your arrival. Instant he began,

All night pursu'd his course, and saw the morn

Shine on that city yielded to his lord.

To him Sicinus counts the pow'rful aids

Expected, large of Aristides speaks,

Large of Timothea; in a rapt'rous style

Dwells on her wish for amity to bind

The two Cecropian heroes. Glad replies

Themistocles: On every new event

She rises lovelier, more endear'd; her worth

Shall meliorate her husband. I obey,

Content on this wide universe to see

Myself the second, Aristides first;

For still he tow'rs above me. Didst thou say,

Cleander, Medon, were already come,

That Aeschylus was coming? All their force

I want, Sicinus; listen to my tale.

Last night an ancient personage, unknown,

In length of beard most awful, not unlike

Tisander, ask'd an audience, and obtain'd

My private ear. Themistocles, he said,

If I deliver tidings, which import

Thy present safety, and thy future weal,

I shall exact thy promise in the name

Of all the gods and goddesses to wave

Enquiry, whence I come, or who I am.

First know, that Mindarus, the Persian chief

In Oreus, newly for Thessalia's coast

Embark'd, whose neighb'ring Pagasaean cape

Looks on Euboea. He this day return'd,

And reinforcement from Mardonius brought,

Ten thousand spears. Thessalia hath supply'd

Three thousand more. An army huge defends

Th' Orēan circuit. Further be inform'd

That sev'n Geraestian homicides are sworn

To thy destruction. By their secret wiles

The house of rich Timoxenus was fir'd;

Them in the field hereafter, all combin'd

Against thy head, their sable arms will shew;

The hideous impress on their shields is death.

Farewell, thou hero; if my parting step

Thou trace, farewell for ever; else be sure

Again to see me in thy greatest need.

In mystery, Sicinus, not of heav'n,

But human art, immers'd is some event,

Which mocks my utmost fathom; but my course

Is plain. In fruitless search I waste no thought,

Who, as my servant, smiling fortune use,

Nor yet am hers, Sicinus, when she frowns.

Now mark: One passage winds among the hills

Encircling Oreus. When the vanquish'd foe

Her bulwarks sought for shelter, I detach'd

Eretrian Cleon, Hyacinthus brave,

And with Carystian bands Nicanor staid,

Who unoppos'd the strong defile secur'd;

There shall my banner, strengthen'd by the youth

Of Aegae, soon be planted; there shall wait,

Till each auxiliar, thou hast nam'd, arrive,

Then pour on Demonax the storm of war.

Let Troezen's squadron and th' Athenian ride

Before his port, Cleander have the charge.

Speed back to Chalcis; publish these resolves.

They part. Not long Themistocles delay'd

To gain the mountains; nor three days were pass'd

When brave Nearchus, Haliartus bold,

Th' illustrious brothers of Oïlean race,

Great Aeschylus and Timon, with their bands

Arriv'd, and join'd him at the strong defile

Which now contain'd his whole collected force.

Thence he descended on a morning fair,

First of that month, which frequent sees the sun

Through vernal show'rs, distill'd from tepid clouds,

Diffuse prolific beams o'er moisten'd earth

To dress her lap, exuberant and fresh,

With flow'rs and verdure. Terrible the bands

Succeeding bands expatiate o'er the fields.

So when an earthquake rives a mountain's side,

Where stagnant water, gather'd and confin'd

Within a deep vacuity of rock,

For centuries hath slept, releas'd, the floods

In roaring cataracts impetuous fall;

They roll before them shepherds and their flocks,

Herds and their keepers; cottage, fold and stall,

Promiscuous ruins floating on the stream,

Are borne to plains remote. Now Oreus lifts

Her stately tow'rs in sight. Three myriads arm'd

Before the walls hath Demonax arrang'd

In proud defiance. So, at first o'erthrown,

Antaeus huge, uprising in his might

Fresh and redoubled by his parent earth,

Return'd to combat with Alcmena's seed.

Wide stretch'd th' Orēan van; the wary son

Of Neocles to equal that extent

Spread his inferiour number. By a front

Not depth of line the tyrant he deceiv'd;

But of Athenian veterans he form'd

A square battalion, which the martial bard

Rang'd on the sea-beat verge; the other wing

Is Medon's charge, where thirty shields in file

Compose the Locrian column. Ere the word

Is giv'n for onset, thus his wonted guard

Themistocles addresses: If a troop

In sable cuirass, and with shields impress'd

By death's grim figure, at my head should aim,

Let them assail me; be it then your care,

Postponing other duty, to surround,

To seize and bear them captives from the fight.

He march'd; himself the cent'ral phalanx led;

The floating crimson of his plumage known,

Minerva's bird his crest, whose terrors shook

The bloody field of Chalcis, soon proclaim

Themistocles. Now targets clash with shields;

Barbarian sabres with Cecropian swords,

Euboean spears with spears in sudden shock,

Bellona mingles. Medon first o'erthrew

Thessalia's line, his temp'rate mind was stung

By indignation; Timon bath'd his lance

In their perfidious blood; Leonteus gor'd

Their dissipated ranks. A chosen troop

To their assistance Lamachus advanc'd;

Him Haliartus met; his sinewy arm,

Which could have quell'd Lycaon, first of wolves,

The Erymanthian, or Aetolian boar,

Smote to the ground the miscreant's bulk deform'd,

Whose band, recoiling, leave the victor space

To drag him captive. Rout and carnage sweep

That shatter'd wing before th' Oïlean swords;

Not with less vigour Aeschylus o'erturn'd

The other. Mindarus in vain oppos'd

Undaunted efforts. Pallas seem'd to fire

Her own Athenians; Neptune, in the shape

Of Aeschylus, seem'd landed from his conch

To war, as once on Troy's Sigaean strand;

Or to have arm'd the warrior-poet's grasp

With that strong weapon, which can rock the earth.

Not in the center suddenly prevail'd

Themistocles; the sev'n Geraestians, leagu'd

By hell, combining their assassin points

Against the hero, for a while delay'd

His progress; firmly their united blows

His shield receiv'd. So Hercules endur'd

The sev'nfold stroke of Hydra; but the zeal

Of Iolaüs to assist that god

In his tremendous labour, was surpass'd

By each Athenian, each Laconian guard,

Who never left Themistocles. They watch'd

The fav'ring moment; with a hundred spears

They hedg'd the traitors round, forbade escape,

Clasp'd and convey'd them living from the field.

Still Demonax resists; while near him tow'rs

Ariobarzanes, moving rock of war

In weight and stature. Of Euboeans, forc'd

By savage pow'r to battle, numbers low'r

Surrend'ring banners, some to Cleon, some

To humble Styra's well-conducted sword,

And thine, sad youth, a while by glory taught

To strive with anguish, and suspend despair,

Cleora's husband. Mindarus appears,

Who warns the tyrant timely to retreat,

Ere quite envelop'd by the wheeling files

Of Aeschylus and Medon. Lo! in front,

More dang'rous still, amid selected ranks,

Themistocles. The monster gnash'd his teeth;

His impious voice, with execrations hoarse,

Assail'd the heav'nly thrones; his buckler firm

He grasp'd, receding to th' Orēan wall;

Where, under vaulted sheets of missive arms

Whirl'd on his fierce pursuers, through the gates

He rush'd to shelter. Thus a mighty boar,

Of Calydonian strength, long held at bay,

The hunter's point evading, and the fangs

Of staunchest hounds, with undiminish'd ire

Red in his eyes, and foaming from his jaws,

Impetuous plunges in accustom'd woods.

Th' Athenian chief, who sees th' incessant storms

Of darts and arrows from the rampart's height,

Retreats; but swift his numbers, now enlarg'd

By yielding thousands of Euboean race,

Distributes round th' invested town to guard

Each avenue and station. From the sea

Cleander threatens. In his evening tent

The gen'ral views the captives; frowns condemn

The sev'n Geraestians to their former chains.

The hero smiles on Lamachus, the prize

Of Haliartus, and familiar thus:

Again, my Tyrian trafficker in slaves,

I greet thee: Son of Lygdamis, what praise

To thy distinguish'd efforts is not due?

This precious head to my disposal yield.

He then proceeds to Lamachus apart:

Now take thy freedom, villain; to my use

See thou employ it, else expect to die.

Your land, remember, and your sea are mine;

Soon on the head of Demonax this arm

Shall dash yon bulwarks; what I speak is fate.

Thou hast thy option, go. Sicinus, hear;

This man is free; conduct him through the camp.

Now from his friends sequester'd, on a couch,

Which never care disturbs, he slept till dawn,

When, rous'd by heralds from the town, again

The leaders he conven'd. Before them came

Arbactus, fierce Barbarian, who began:

Themistocles of Athens, in the name

Of Mindarus the Persian, I defy

Thy arm to combat in the listed field;

The same defiance to thy boldest chiefs

Ariobarzanes sends. If you prevail,

The royal host shall quit Euboea's isle,

Which shall submit to Xerxes if you fall.

Up Hyacinthus, Haliartus, start

Indignant. First the young Carystian spake:

Are they so gross in ignorance to hope,

Themistocles will stoop to single fight

With twice-o'erthrown Barbarians, who, unsafe

Behind a rampart, tremble at his pow'r?

But if the Persian Mindarus would try

A Grecian's single valour, O permit,

Themistocles, thy soldier to assert

The Grecian fame. The friend of Medon next:

The same permission I implore, O chief,

Invincible thyself; that all this host

May witness my fidelity to Greece.

Themistocles subjoins: Barbarian, go,

Provide thy champions; ours thou seest prepar'd

For honour, not decision of the doom

Reserv'd for Demonax; whose final lot

Lies in my breast alone. The herald back

To Oreus speeds. The prudent chief pursues:

My Hyacinthus, all thy wrongs I feel;

But, if resentment can afford the grace

I ask thee, lend to policy thy arm:

Take Mindarus thy captive. From thy proofs

Of might and firmness, Haliartus brave,

My wish is lifted high in hope to see

Ariobarzanes gasping at thy feet.

He rises. Straight embattled on the plain,

His army shews a formidable gleam

To Demonax. Still num'rous for defence

Barbarian warriors, and Thessalian, throng

The battlements of Oreus. Through the gates,

In solemn pace and slow, a herald train

Precede their champions. Heralds from the camp

Produce th' illustrious Haliartus clad

In richest arms, the gift of Caria's queen;

A twig of flend'rest laurel, twisted round

A shepherd's crook, in portraiture adorn'd

His modest buckler. Grim his foe advanc'd

In mail blood-colour'd, with a targe of gold,

Ariobarzanes. Hyacinthus next

Appears in tried habiliments of war,

Which on his dearest patron Mars had seen

In Marathonian fields. A plumage black,

Denoting grief, he carries; on his shield

A female image, and the form of Death,

Who blasts her graces. Mindarus approach'd

In armour studded bright with orient gems;

His buckler too a shape of beauty pale,

Stretch'd on a fun'ral pyre, exhibits sad;

Of pearl her limbs, of rubies were the flames.

Ere they engage, the Persian warrior thus:

Since my encounter, whether through disdain

Or policy I know not, is refus'd

By your commander, not through fear I know,

Do thou in courtesy disclose thy name,

Thy rank in Grecian armies. May'st thou prove

In lustre such as Mindarus would chuse

To be th' opponent of a satrap's arm.

Then tremble, satrap, at my name, the name

Of Hyacinthus, fierce the youth returns;

Cleora's husband, whom thy barb'rous love

Hath wrong'd, whom hell-born Demonax hath damn'd

To ever-during torment, shakes this lance,

By vengeance pointed and invet'rate hate.

Young man, rejoins the Persian, on thy grief

I drop a pitying tear, while thou dost wrong

Me clear of wrong to thee. No barb'rous love

Was mine; unconscious of your nuptial tie,

Till she confess'd it to her savage sire,

My flame was holy; not a thought impure

To violate a right could taint my breast.

But that I lov'd her, Hyacinthus, sure

He, who her dear perfections knew so well,

Must wave his wonder; that her fate o'erwhelms

My spirit, never to revive, I feel;

That my disastrous passion caus'd her doom,

Blame both our fortunes, not my guiltless heart.

If yet thy anguish can a moment look

Compassionate on me—but I forgive

Unjust reproaches from a grief like thine,

Which should, which must exceed my own, my own

Exceeding after thine all other woe.

Now Hyacinthus melted, but observ'd,

That during this sad interview the spear

Of Haliartus at his feet had laid

Ariobarzanes dead. Heart-stung by shame

At his inaction, with so many chiefs,

With such an army, and the godlike son

Of Neocles spectators, he begins

The fight, but recollects that friend's request.

The Persian more effeminate desponds

At past defeats, and present grief renew'd,

Whose weight, though lighter, he less firmly bore,

Than did the hardy Greek his heavier share

Of woe. Yet fearless he maintains the strife

With native force devoid of gymnic skill,

In which confiding Hyacinthus oft

Inverts his spear, and levels bloodless strokes,

Still vigilant to ward the hostile point,

Oft o'er his buckler glancing, though impell'd

By active strength. At last a pond'rous blow

Full on the Persian's front descends; a groan

Is heard throughout the rampart as he falls;

The groan redoubles, as the victor bears

That leader captive to th' investing camp.

To his own tent Themistocles admits

The Persian's batter'd, but unwounded limbs;

He praises Hyacinthus; he consoles

The noble foe, commends to healing rest,

And at returning morn salutes him thus:

If thee unransom'd, Mindarus, I send

To Oreus, canst thou pity her estate

Curs'd in a monster? Canst thou feel the wound

Of thy own glory longer to support

The worst of men, excluded by his crimes

From heav'n's protection, and the laws of faith?

Wilt thou, to spare whole rivulets of blood

Greek and Barbarian, render to my arms

The town, and thus procure thyself a name

To live for ever, by a righteous act,

Delighting gods and mortals? Thee my ships

Shall land in safety on thy native shore;

The king will praise thee for his army sav'd,

Which shall partake my clemency. Reject

All hope, good Persian, to withstand my arm;

I am Themistocles. The satrap starts

From languor thus: Athenian, I confess

Thy greatness, thy ascendency have felt;

But will endure, whate'er a victor's pow'r

Inflicts on captives, rather than pollute

My loyal faith to Xerxes; from my king

I took my charge, and never will betray.

The crimes of Demonax I know; myself

Have prov'd their horrors in Cleora's fate,

I lov'd, ador'd her excellence; her thread

His impious rage dissever'd; on her tomb

My tears have daily flow'd. Retain me still

Thy captive, never to revisit more

Her father's hateful mansion. Heav'n permit,

By thy vindictive arm, but heav'n forbid,

That ever by disloyalty of mine,

Th' infernal author of her death may fall.

The barbarism of loyalty, which binds

Men to a monarch, but the monarch leaves

Free to his lusts, his cruelty and rage,

Th' enlighten'd Greek despis'd, yet now deplor'd

In one by nature gifted to deserve

A better lot from heav'n. Not less aware

Of democratic jealousy, which hurls

From fortune's summit heroes to the dust,

He press'd no further, cautious not to wound

A gallant mind, whose friendship won he meant

To use in wants, such fortune might create.

He leaves Sicinus near him; while his care

Exhausts the light in traversing the camp

To view the works. His evening orders hold

Each band in arms; while anxious in his tent

He sits deep-musing, whether to attempt

The town that night by storm, or patient wait

For some event less bloody, casual boon

Of time and fortune. Wasteful is delay,

But precious too his soldiers; such brave lives

The full completion of his vast design

Requires. Thus, dubious, till the second watch

Throughout the camp is toll'd, and clouded heav'n

Drops down her sable veil, he sits; when lo!

Before him stands his monitor unknown,

The venerable figure, which he saw

At Aegae. Staid Sicinus is the guide,

Who swift retires, but watches faithful nigh.

Themistocles, the stranger solemn spake;

Thee I have trusted, thou hast trusted me,

Nor either hath repented. Who I am,

Now learn. By friendship's sacred ties, by blood

To thy best friend Eudora I am bound,

Elephenor am call'd, pontific seer

Of Jupiter in Oreus. Timely warn'd

By her most urgent mandate to repose

All confidence in thee, and lend my aid,

Nor less admonish'd by Tisander sage,

I help'd thee first with counsel; now I bring

Effectual succour. Demonax, though foil'd,

Hath still a pow'rful remnant of his host

To man his walls, and desp'rate will defend.

Select two thousand spears; avoid delay;

A secret passage, known to holy steps

Alone, o'er town and tyrant will complete

Thy bloodless conquest. Swift the Attic chief:

O father! sacred in my ear the sound

Of good Tisander's, great Eudora's names;

Thy former warnings I have prov'd sincere

To merit gratitude and trust. He calls

Sicinus, bids him summon all the chiefs

Of Locris and Carystus; they appear.

To Hyacinthus and Nicanor then

Themistocles: Attend with all your bands

This rev'rend guide; intelligence transmit

As you advance. His orders are perform'd.

Next he exhorts th' Oilean brethren thus,

Nor passes favour'd Haliartus by:

You with your Locrians follow to support

These friends, lest ambush and deception lurk

Beneath a promise of assur'd success.

This said, himself forth issues to prepare

The gen'ral host for action, ev'n that night,

If fair occasion summons, when he meets

Troezene's leader. Is Cleander here,

Themistocles began? Momentous sure,

The cause which sends thee from thy naval charge.

To him Cleander: Anchor'd as I lay,

A slender skiff, when darkness first prevail'd,

Approach'd my galley. To an earnest suit

For conference I listen'd, and receiv'd

On board a man of Oreus, all in limbs

Deform'd, in lineaments all rude, whose name

Is Lamachus. To render up this night

A sep'rate fort he proffers, which commands

The town and harbour, if thy faith be pledg'd

Him and Thessalia's garrison to land

Safe on her neighb'ring coast. Thy will to learn

I come, he waits. His proffer I accept,

Rejoins th' alert Athenian, and the doom,

I had prepar'd for those degen'rate Greeks,

Postpone. Cleander to his station flies.

Serene th' Athenian in array contains

His army cool, with expectation mute.

So, in deceitful quiet oft the main

Before the glazing light of Dian spreads

A mirrour smooth; the ruler of the winds

Anon from troubled clouds, and ocean's god

From his tempestuous chariot, give the sign

For wild commotion; then the surging brine

Assails the loftiest tops of reeling masts,

Foams on the rocks, and deluges the beach.

End of the Eighteenth Book.

THE ATHENAID.
BOOK the NINETEENTH.

THE morning breaks; Nicanor sudden greets

The gen'ral; welcome tidings in these words

He utters loud: The citadel is won,

The tyrant slaughter'd. With our sacred guide

A rugged, winding track, in brambles hid,

Half up a crag we climb'd; there, stooping low,

A narrow cleft we enter'd; mazy still

We trod through dusky bowels of a rock,

While our conductor gather'd, as he stepp'd,

A clue, which careful in his hand he coil'd.

Our spears we trail'd; each soldier held the skirt

Of his preceding comrade. We attain'd

An iron wicket, where the ending line

Was fasten'd; thence a long and steep ascent

Was hewn in steps; suspended on the sides,

Bright rows of tapers cheer'd our eyes with light.

We reach'd the top; there lifting o'er his head

A staff, against two horizontal valves

Our leader smote, which open'd at the sound.

Behind me Hyacinthus on the rock

Sunk sudden down, pronouncing in his fall

Cleora; I on Hyacinthus call'd.

Is this Cleora's husband? cried the priest;

Descend, my Pamphila, my wife, descend.

She came, a rev'rend priestess; tender both

With me assisting plac'd my speechless friend

Within a cleft by me unmark'd before,

Which seem'd a passage to some devious cell.

Me by the hand Elephenor remov'd

Precipitate; a grating door of brass

Clos'd on my parting steps. Ascend, he said,

Make no enquiry; but remain assur'd,

His absence now is best. I mount, I rise

Behind a massy basis which upheld

Jove grasping thunder, and Saturnia crown'd,

Who at his side outstretch'd her scepter'd hand.

The troops succeeding fill the spacious dome.

Last, unexpected, thence more welcome, rose,

Detach'd from Medon with five hundred spears,

Brave Haliartus, who repair'd the want

Of my disabled colleague. Now the priest:

Ye chiefs, auxiliar to the gods profan'd,

And men oppress'd, securely you have reach'd

The citadel of Oreus. The dark hour

Befriends your high attempt. Let one possess

The only entrance from the town below,

The other swift the palace must surprise,

Where Demonax lies slumb'ring, if his guilt

Admits of rest, and dreams not of your spears.

With small resistance from a drowsy guard

I seiz'd the gate; the palace soon was forc'd

By Haliartus. Demonax maintain'd,

From door to door fierce combat, till he sunk,

Blaspheming ev'ry pow'r of heav'n and hell,

On his own couch, beneath repeated wounds

Delv'd in his body by the Carian sword,

Whose point produc'd the sever'd head in view.

These news, Sicinus, to Eudora bear,

Themistocles began. Before her feet

Fall grateful, kiss for me her hallow'd robe;

My venerable friend Tisander hail,

To her, to him, this victory we owe.

Salute Timoxenus, my noble host,

Greet his excelling daughter; let them hear

Of brave Nicanor, and the Carian sword,

Which, closing at a blow this dang'rous war,

Preserves so many Greeks. Carystian chief,

Accept from me good tidings in return

For thine. Intelligence this hour hath brought,

That vigilant Cleander hath possess'd

The naval fort, an inlet to the town

For this whole army, pouring from our ships

Successive numbers, if the Persian bands

Yet meditate resistance. Not to give

Their consternation leisure to subside,

Against the walls each standard shall advance.

He said, and gave command. The diff'rent chiefs

Head their battalions. Oreus trembling sees

Encircling danger; heralds in their pomp,

Dread summoners, are nigh. Her foreign guard,

Depriv'd of wonted leaders, at the fall

Of Demonax aghast, in thought behold

Death in the conquer'd citadel extend

His hideous arms to beckon from the fleet

Cleander's valour, and from swarming tents

Themistocles. On his approach the gates

Are thrown abroad. From all the Persian bands

Their javelins, shields, and banners on the ground

Pale fear deposits. Thus the yielding masts

Of all their canvass mariners divest,

When Aeolus is riding on a storm

To overwhelm the vessel, which would drive

In full apparel to resist his ire.

Th' Athenian, though triumphant, in his joy

Omits no care. To Aeschylus awhile

The charge supreme transferring, he ascends

The citadel; the Carian victor there

Conducts him o'er the palace, shews the corse

Of Demonax, his treasury unspoil'd,

By chosen Locrians guarded. Pleas'd, the chief

Embraces Haliartus: Friend, he said,

Though late acquir'd, inestimable friend,

How shall I praise thee? but my bosom wrapt

In long concealment, now to thee alone

Disclos'd, shall warrant my profess'd regard.

Know, that whatever thou hast heard, or seen

Of my Euboean labours, are no more,

Than preparation for a wider stage

Of action. Gold, one necessary means,

Thou hast provided; but I want a man

Of hardy limbs and vig'rous, bold, discreet,

Who all the Persian quarters would explore,

On either side Thermopylae; would trace

Whate'er employs Mardonius, what the time

He takes the field, and where his gather'd stores

Of war deposits. Thessaly provok'd

Long since my just resentment. Ere the king

Of Asia pass'd the Hellespont, I led

Ten thousand Greeks her passes to defend;

By her deserted and betray'd, I march'd

Unprofitably back. The Carian here:

Had I endowments equal to my will,

I were that man. Accept me, as I am,

Vers'd in those borders, me, whose faithful zeal

Leonidas experienc'd and approv'd;

So let Themistocles. My rustic weeds

I can resume to range th' Oetaean crags,

The fields of Locris, and Thessalia's plains.

Thou art that man, th' Athenian quick rejoin'd;

Then hold thee ready. Sudden in their birth

Are my resolves, and when mature have wings.

This said, he visits Aeschylus below.

Judicious he in stations had dispos'd

The various bands; the pris'ners were secur'd.

Throughout th' Orēan streets and dwellings reign'd

Tranquillity and order. Him the son

Of Neocles bespake: To-morrow's dawn

Shall see thee honour'd, as becomes a chief,

Whom Aristides nam'd, and Athens chose

To save Euboea. I defer till night

Our consultations. I, not wanted here,

Will reascend the citadel; the voice

Of friendship calls me to a tender care.

He seeks the fane. Elephenor he greets;

Applause to him in gratitude unfeign'd

Presenting, next his earnest lips enquire

Of Hyacinthus. Here the rev'rend man:

First know, his dear Cleora is alive.

I, priest of Jove, and Pamphila my wife,

Who to th' Olympian empress in this seat

Of blended rites are ministers, when told

That Demonax had doom'd his child to death,

Solicited her pardon in the names

Of both divinities. At both he spurn'd,

While we contriv'd this stratagem. Her nurse,

By us admonish'd, in due time declar'd

Cleora dead. The body of a slave,

A youthful maiden recently expir'd,

Was for Cleora carried to the flames,

While her we shelter'd in a secret cell,

From human sight, from sight of day conceal'd.

These pow'rs, alike offended at th' intent

As perpetration of an impious deed,

Have sent thee forth their instrument of wrath,

Divinely-prompted hero. Wilt thou shed

On Hyacinthus and Cleora's bliss

Thy guardian smile? This utter'd, down the steps

He guides th' Athenian to the hidden cell.

By his Cleora Hyacinthus sat.

The youthful husband o'er the snowy breast,

Which lull'd and cherish'd a reposing babe,

The blooming father o'er that precious fruit

Hung fondly. Thoughtful ecstasy recall'd

His dream at Juno's temple; where he saw

The visionary bosom of his bride

Disclose maternal to an infant new

That pillow smooth of lillies. Wan her cheek

Told her confinement from the cheerful day.

Six moons in deep obscurity she dwelt;

Where, as a sea-nymph underneath a rock,

Or Indian genie in the cavern'd earth,

Her cell in conchs and coral she had dress'd,

By gracious Pamphila supply'd to cheat

Time and despair. The loom her patient art

Had plied, her own sad story had begun,

Now to conclude in joy. The starting youth

Beholds his patron, rushes on his breast

In transport thus: Redeemer of my peace!

Balm of my grief! of happiness my source!

My health of mind and body is thy gift.

If in his anguish Hyacinthus felt

His obligation, in the hour of bliss

To what excess must gratitude expand

His bosom now! Cleora and my child

I owe to thy protection—this is she,

This is my goddess, this my light, my joy,

Deriv'd from thy humanity. Thou god

Of Hyacinthus, tutelary god!

Thou from the pit of horror didst upraise

My limbs, for ever to its bottom chain'd

Without thy helpful hand; without thee death

Had been my portion; never had I liv'd

To see Cleora, never known this day!

But will my gen'ral overlook my fault?

Thy soldier, in his subterranean march

Tow'rds this retirement, threw a casual glance,

Which met Cleora's. Down the shield and spear

Dropp'd from my hands disabled; life forsook

My heart, which irrecoverably lost

All sense of duty both to thee and Greece,

By me alone deserted. Bless that chance,

Themistocles replies, and leads aside

Th' attentive youth. Perhaps these gods ordain'd,

In compensation of thy long distress,

In recompense of pure and constant love,

That to Cleora thou unstain'd with blood,

Blood of her father by another slain,

Shouldst be restor'd, nor taint with horrors new

This thy new hymen. Aeschylus by morn

Will sit in judgment righteous, but severe,

On each Euboean criminal, the dead

Not less than living. Instantly remove

To thy Carystian home thy wife and babe;

Whate'er can pass in Oreus must offend

Her eye and ear. Then turning to the fair:

From warlike toils thy consort I dismiss;

He, who so nobly signaliz'd his sword

In single combat, and the open field,

And prov'd his valour equal to his love,

All future palms to others may resign.

Whatever comforts, time and peace can yield,

Are due to both your suff'rings; nor an hour

Shalt thou be cloister'd in this rueful cell.

Elephenor, discreet and rev'rend man,

Let thy kind clue conduct their secret steps.

With presents laden, tokens of my love,

Cars shall attend them at the cavern's mouth;

Thou add thy blessing, that their new-born day

May never set in sorrow. Thus the chief,

Relax'd from busy care, amid success,

Which not a shade of obstacle o'erhangs,

Spake, as he felt, remunerating full

For all his service Hyacinthus brave.

His knees embracing, thus Cleora spake:

I have not utt'rance for my grateful heart;

If thou dismiss us never more to see

Thy guardian face, our day will set in grief.

In smiles th' Athenian dissipates that fear:

Long ere thy husband's magisterial term

Is finish'd, I have further still to crave

From him as archon, not as soldier, help.

This to Carystus would alone direct

My footsteps; else amid domestic joys

To see thy days illumin'd, precious time

Themistocles would borrow from his charge.

Thus in the grateful fair-one he secur'd

Another friend, if wanted to support

His vast designs, which, gath'ring on his mind,

Speed his departure with a kind farewell.

The cars he orders, from the tyrant's stores

Rich presents draws, to Aeschylus returns,

With him in conf'rence spends remaining day.

Aurora hears Themistocles command

Stern proclamation by the trumpet's voice

For judgment on the guilty. All in chains

The tyrant's hated counsellors are brought,

Save Lamachus by faith of treaty safe

Bound to Thessalian shores; but chief the sev'n

Geraestian ruffians, their assassin heads

Hang hopeless down. Amid the widest space

In Oreus lofty a tribunal stands,

Which Aeschylus ascends, commander high

Of troops enroll'd by Athens. So her son

Disgrac'd, but courting favour new, devis'd

Her democratic jealousy to sooth.

The various chieftains, through this glorious war

So late distinguish'd, round the solemn seat

Conspicuous wait, Themistocles himself

At the right hand of Aeschylus. He sits

Like Minos sage, whose justice gain'd from Jove

Th' appointment awful to condemn, or spare

His fellow mortals in the world below.

When now th' accusers and accus'd were heard,

Thus spake the warrior-poet: Crimes like these

The legislator punishes with death;

Let us attempt within our scanty sphere,

Far as we may, to imitate the gods

In punishment deserv'd. Through those abodes

Which Hades governs, long the vulture gnaws;

Long is the toil of Sisyphus; to fill

Their leaking vases long the murd'rous seed

Of Danaus must strive. By labour, pain,

And shame continu'd, let flagitious men

Long wish to end their suff'rings, not enjoy

That wish'd-for period in a single pang.

This heavy sentence on assassin heads,

On foul, atrocious counsellors of ill,

Lo! I pronounce. An ignominious brand

Imprint on every forehead; plunge them chain'd,

Debas'd by vile impurity of garb,

In deep Chalcidian quarries; give them food

Just for endurance of continued toil,

With daily stripes, that cruelty may feel

What she inflicts on others, and, impell'd

By desperation, court relief in death.

Before the gate of Oreus on a cross

Extend the limbs of Demonax; the flesh

Let kites deform, let parching air the bones

Of that despotic malefactor bleach,

Avenging man, and vindicating heav'n.

Flow next a strain more pleasing through the ear,

A strain delightful to that fav'ring god

Who first created laurel to adorn

The good and brave. A chaplet from his tree,

Ten captives, ten selected suits of arms

To ev'ry leader; one Barbarian slave,

A sabre, targe, whatever to the field

Accouters one Barbarian, I allot

To ev'ry soldier. Phoebus will supply

His laurel too, encompassing your brows,

Ye gen'rous people. But a splendid store

Of tripods, urns, and images provide

For great Eudora, and th' Eretrian seer,

That your triumphal off'ring may emblaze

Euboea's fanes; nor less with honours greet

Elephenor, your genius of success.

Eudora's portion thou, heroic priest,

Phoebean Timon, to her presence bear.

I need but name Acanthè to attract

Your veneration; for Acanthè chuse,

Sweet paragon of Chalcis, from your spoils

The costly tissue of Barbaric looms,

And dazzling gems, that gratitude may vie

With obligation. Haliartus, bright

In recent glories from a tyrant slain,

Thou at her feet the precious tribute lay.

For me, if, servant of Cecropia's state,

I have upheld her justice and renown,

Your approbation is the sole reward

Which I solicit, or will bear away

On my returning keel. He ceas'd. In roar

Surpassing waves, which beat the craggy strand

Amidst a tempest, from the gen'ral host

Broke forth applause. The mistocles subjoin'd:

Awhile, my friends, your labours I suspend;

Go to your homes; to kind, expecting wives

Recount your trophies; let your children see

Paternal mansions hung with Asian spoils.

Remember still, that valour must not sleep;

That law restor'd and freedom are not firm

While Asia's trumpet sounds a blast in Greece.

Two days elapse; Timoxenus, arriv'd

From Chalcis, joyful gratulation brings.

Solicitous th' Athenian first enquires

Of fair Acanthè's state. The father fond

Thus answers: Wasting malady is fled,

But hath behind it left indiff'rence cold

To ev'ry joy. Thy wife a bracelet sent;

These words the bearer Hallartus brought,

Charg'd by Timothea elegant and wise.

"From me this present when Acanthè takes,

"Say, how I prize her elevated mind,

"Enabling my Themistocles to quell

"The hateful breed of tyrants. Further say,

"The man engaging her connubial hand

"I should esteem the favorite of heav'n."

I heard approving; on the grateful hint

A secret hour I chose; my daughter's ear

I thus address'd. "My only child and hope,

"Shall no sweet offspring cheer a grandsire's age?

"Shall my possessions to a stranger pass,

"My blood be lost for ever? Shall this war,

"Thy work, Acanthè, which a father's love,

"In all to thee complying, at thy suit

"Commenc'd, produce no here to console

"Thy widow'd couch?" "The sacrifice of life,

"Of my ideal, or my real peace,

"Is due to such a father," she exclaim'd

In pious fervour. "Arguments to urge

"Against thy plea my age and thine forbid;

"But ah! dear parent, my capricious fate

"Presents no suitor to thy child's esteem."

The Amarynthian priestess, whose controul

Surpasses mine, with sternness oft enforc'd

My just desire. At length my daughter thus

On my departure: "I obey; consult

"Themistocles; let him a consort name,

"Who best hath serv'd him in this righteous war."

Ne'er yet ill chance, or sorrow, from the son

Of Neocles drew tears. His soul reflects

On this transcendent fair one, who had chang'd

The violence of passion to respect

So confidential, dress'd in sweetest grace

So far beyond his merits tow'rds a heart

Of purest texture, late by him misled

To error, now to purity restor'd

By native honour. At th' affecting thought

He turns those eyes, till then of stedfast look

On all events and objects, turns aside

To hide their oozing dews; yet soon he spake:

None can I name, but wise Timothea's choice

To bear her present, Haliartus brave,

Who hath avow'd to Aeschylus and me

A veneration for thy matchless child;

But he, appointed to a service high,

Like Hercules must labour yet to gain

The sum of bliss. For three successive moons

He must continue mine. The past events

In copious strains the hero now rehears'd,

Concluding thus: The army I disband;

Great Aeschylus for Athens straight embarks;

I shall remain in Oreus to compose

This troubled city; thou resume thy way;

The criminals transported in thy train

Lock in the quarries; to Acanthè all

Unravel; her and Chalcis too prepare

For due reception of that happy man,

Whom Jove hath honour'd in a tyrant's death,

Whom Juno soon in nuptial ties will bless,

And all Euboea to Acanthè sends

With tokens rich of public praise and love.

With joy Timoxenus assents; the morn

Sees him depart; at Chalcis he arrives,

Performing all Themistocles enjoin'd.

Now ev'ry temple breathes perfumes; prepar'd

Are chosen victims, colonnades and gates

With chaplets hung; the garden's flow'ry growth,

Each scented produce of luxuriant fields,

The maids and matrons bear to welcome home

Triumphant warriors. Now th' expected gleams

Of armour tinge the champaign's utmost verge;

Near and more near the military pomp,

At large develop'd o'er the green expanse,

Spears, bucklers, helmets, plumes, Barbaric spoils

In trophies pil'd on hollow-sounding cars,

Grow on the sight. Through Chalcis lies the march;

Those in abode the most remote precede.

Geraestian banners first Eudemus shews;

With Lampon follow Styra's gallant troop;

The Amarynthian and Carystian bands

Nicanor leads; th' Eretrians, now become

Once more a people, with their wives and race

At length redeem'd, to Cleon's orders move.

In blooming garlands had the mothers deck'd

Their children's heads, whom, tripping through the streets,

Spectatress equal to the loftiest scene,

Eudora blesses. Sweet Acanthè melts

In tears of gladness, while her father nigh

Awakes attention to a num'rous train,

Her native friends, whom brave Nearchus heads.

These are thy warriors, fondly cries the sire;

To whom Eudora: Who is he in state

Pontifical, a holy man in arms?

Three hundred Delphians then were passing by,

Phoebean branches twisted round their spears.

Behind them, lodg'd on axles rolling slow,

Were vases, tripods, images and busts,

Spoils of the palace Demonax had rais'd.

Thou seest, replies Timoxenus, a form

To Phoebus dear, the venerable form

Of Timon, priest and soldier. From that car

He will descend to kiss thy sacred hand,

Before thy feet a precious tribute lay

For thy pure goddess, sister of his god.

But look, my sweet Acanthè, on the man

Themistocles hath chosen to revive

My drooping years. Preceded by a troop

Of youths, whom Medon, ever kind, hath cull'd

From all his Locrian files to grace his friend;

Preceded by a trophy, which displays

The silver mail of Demonax, his shield,

His helm of gold, his variegated arms,

And spear in length ten cubits, which upholds

The tyrant's head, his victor meets our eyes,

Th' illustrious son of Lygdamis. She cast

Not an impassion'd, but revering glance

On one, whose might victorious had dissolv'd

Euboean thraldom, one of noble frame,

In feature comely, and in look serene,

Whom her sole guide, the all controlling son

Of Neocles, had destin'd for her lord.

Her dream recurs; the tyrant's head she sees;

Th' exploit sublime, though not by him achiev'd,

Whom partial fancy on her pillow shew'd,

Her ever-wakeful loftiness of mind

Admires impartial, and applauds the hand

Which dealt the glorious blow. Her awful brow

The priestless softens to a smile, and thus:

Is this suitor, whom my hero chose

For bright Acanthè? Favour'd by the gods,

Themistocles in ev'ry action proves

He cannot err. Acanthè hears, and press'd

By duty's insurmountable controul,

Aw'd by Eudora's majesty austere,

Resolves to meet him with becoming grace,

But of his virtue make one trial more.

The Delphian priest and Haliartus quit

Their chariots; them Timoxenus receives

To his rich mansion and a sumptuous board.

Eudora there, with curious eyes and voice,

Explores and questions oft the Carian brave.

His Delphian friend, observing, in these words

Besought him: O, distinguish'd by the gods!

Who have in thee their care of virtue shewn,

Since from Euboea thou must soon depart,

Lose not the present hour. These matchless dames

Must hear thy wond'rous narrative at large;

For singular thy fortunes with events

Are interwoven to delight the ear,

Affect the heart, and win th' applauding tongue;

That all may honour thy desert supreme

Like me, so much thy debtor. Straight complies

The modest Carian; list'ning silence reigns.

In native windings from his Lydian fount

As various flow'd Maeander, here along

A level champaign, daisy-painted meads,

Or golden fields of Ceres, here through woods

In green arcades projecting o'er his banks,

There shut in rock, which irritates the stream,

Here by low hamlets, there by stately towns,

Till he attained the rich Magnesian seat;

Thence with augmented fame and prouder floods

Roll'd down his plenteous tribute to the main:

So through the mazes of his fortune winds

In artless eloquence th' expressive strain

Of Haliartus, from his peasant state

To scenes heroic. Humble still in mind,

Compell'd to follow truth's historic clue,

He ends in glory, which his blushes grace;

Nor less they grace these frank and manly words,

Which to Acanthè singly he directs:

Such as I am, thou elevated fair,

Who hast Euboea's liberty restor'd,

Her grateful off'rings to thy feet I bring;

With them an humble suppliant to thy smile,

That he may rank thy soldier, in thy name

His own distinguish, and, achieving well

The task by great Themistocles impos'd,

Deserve Acanthè's favour. She replies

With virtuous art: Can soldiers never know

Satiety of fame? must her career

Be still beginning, never be complete?

Must ev'ry passion yield to thirst of praise?

Should I request thee, wouldst thou for my sake

Thy new attempt relinquish, to enjoy

Thy ample portion of acquir'd renown

In peace at Chalcis? Haliartus then:

Not love of fame, which oft'ner frowns than smiles,

Not victory, nor spoil inflate my breast

All unaspiring. Sense of duty pure,

Of obligation, which I owe to Greece,

Themistocles, and Medon, rules supreme

Within my soul. O first of mortal fair,

Thou of his peace thy servant might'st deprive;

But, wert thou fairer than the Paphian queen,

In each excelling art like Pallas skill'd,

Her paragon in wisdom, thy request

Should thus be answer'd from a bleeding heart:

To my performance of the trust repos'd

The only bar is fate. Astonish'd gaz'd

Timoxenus; nor knew the timid sire

That his Acanthè's breast then first conceiv'd

A spark of passion, but a spark divine,

Such as for heroes goddesses have felt;

As Thetis glow'd for Peleus. Thus the fair:

O most deserving of that hero's choice,

To which alone Acanthè left her fate!

Weigh'd in the balance, nor deficient found,

Thou more than worthy of a hand like mine!

Go, but return; triumphantly return

Lord of Acanthè; of my truth unchang'd

Accept this pledge. She gave, he kiss'd her hand.

Eudora's vestment, while the solemn scene

Her looks approv'd, with fervent lips he touch'd;

Then, clasping glad Timoxenus, retir'd

To hoist his canvass in the morning gale.

End of the Nineteenth Book.

THE ATHENAID.
BOOK the TWENTIETH.

AN April zephyr, with reviving sweets

From gay Euboea's myrtle-border'd meads,

Perfumes his breath, scarce ruffling in his course

The pearly robe of morn. A ready skiff

The Carian hero mounts; the gale, though soft,

To him is adverse. From a rapid keel

Of Oreus, lo! Sicinus lifts a sign

Of salutation. Haliartus joins

The faithful man, and joyfully relates

His acquisition of Acanthé's hand.

To good Sicinus grateful sounds the tale,

Who thus replies: To Athens I proceed.

No sooner march'd the warriors to their homes,

Than, disengag'd from public care, my lord

Address'd me thus: Sicinus, spread the sail,

To Athens fly; my wife and offspring waft

To my embraces; that, while gentle rest

Remits the labours of my limbs disarm'd,

I with Timothea, she with me, may share

The past success, and taste of present joy.

Thee, Haliartus, she esteems; thy fame,

Exploits and fortune will augment her bliss.

But of this friendly gale a moment more

I must not lose. His vessel sails along;

The other slowly with laborious strokes

Of oars contends for passage, till broad noon

Flames on the laurell'd poops and colours gay

Of Athens and Troezene; on whose decks,

Emblaz'd with spoils, and trophies, Phoebus pours

His whole effulgence. Back to Attic strands

They steer in view. To fifes and trumpets clear

From ev'ry vessel in a blended sound

Reply the concave shores. Now sudden shifts

The wind, and checks their progress; but permits

Glad Haliartus close behind the helm

Of Aeschylus to pass. The choral notes

Of triumph then were hush'd. The warrior-bard,

Who had so well accomplish'd all his charge,

Like Jove in judgment, on the plain like Mars,

Sat in oblivion of his arms, which lay

Beside him. O'er the Heliconian hill

In thought he wander'd, and invok'd the Muse

To sing of civic harmony. The Muse

To Aristides, and the conqu'ring son

Of Neocles united, touch'd the lyre

With melody rejoicing at their names.

The Attic warriors throng'd the silent decks,

The shrouds and yards. Attention clos'd their lips,

Their minds were open'd. Musical and learn'd,

Minerva's chosen people had been wont

To hear his numbers in the tragic scene.

Sententious weight of poesy, combin'd

With music's pow'rful spell, there tam'd the rude,

Abash'd the vicious, and the good refin'd.

Oh! Artemisia, Haliartus sigh'd,

While at the strain his progress he delay'd,

How canst thou splendid vassalage prefer

In barb'rous climes, the residence of slaves,

To Greece, the land of freedom, arts and arms,

The legislator's and the hero's seat,

The guardian pure of equity and laws,

The nurse of orphans helpless and oppress'd,

Of all, whom Phoebus and the Muses lift

Above the rank of mortals! Greece, I owe

More than my birth and being to thy love,

My sentiments I owe. Adopted child,

For thee my better parent now I go

To hazard all in voluntary zeal,

Ev'n the possession of Acanthè's charms.

On Atalantè's sea-beat verge he lands;

Swift he collects his peasant weeds, the crook,

The pipe and scrip, thus musing: Ancient garb,

Thou dost remind me of Oïleus good,

Dost summon all my gratitude to prove,

That he, who benefits receives, and feels

A grateful sense, is happy. From his side,

His arm, and temples, he ungirds the sword,

The shield releases, and unclasps the helm;

These he commits, Sophronia, to thy care,

Spouse of Leonteus, mother of the race

Oïlean. Them, in tenderness embrac'd,

He leaves with blessings, re-embarks and prints

His bounding feet on Locris. Hermes thus

In shepherd's weeds his deity conceal'd,

By Jove's appointment on the flow'ry meads

Of Inachus alighting; where he stole

On watchful Argus, and, his hundred eyes

Eluding, rescu'd from her bestial form

Afflicted Io. Like the mountain roe

The son of Lygdamis in speed excell'd;

He, had he run for Atalanta's love,

Would have rejected Cytherea's aid,

Nor, of her swiftness to beguile the fair,

Before her steps the golden apples thrown.

He quits the shore impatient; on he flies

Unquestion'd, rank'd among the Locrian hinds,

All Persian subjects now. A midnight course

To Oeta's well-known mountains he prefers

Through winding vallies, sprinkled with his tears

In memory of past events. He finds

The track to Mycon's hut; that goat-herd hears

The sound of footsteps through the morning dew;

He sees, he flies to Meliboeus, clings

Around his neck. The seeming shepherd thus:

Kind friend, inform me of Melissa's weal.

To him the swain: In wonder thou wilt hear,

That no Barbarian dares ascend this hill;

Th' attempt with death Mardonius would chastise.

Benign Masistius, who his freedom gain'd

From gen'rous Medon, to his sister thus

The benefit repays. He often views

Thermopylae, inspects th' obsequious band,

Which guards the cavern'd passage to our fane;

The fane he visits. Pleas'd, Melissa greets

The gentle Persian, who delights to speak

Of Aristides righteous and humane,

Of Medon's valour on Psittalia's isle,

Who made Masistius captive. Thus at times

The tedious winter's melancholy hours

She sooth'd; depriv'd of thee, superior swain,

At times convers'd with Mycon. She hath tun'd

My pipe to music, purify'd my tongue,

Refin'd its language, and my soul enlarg'd.

Despairing never of the public weal,

To Aristides, virtuous guardian pow'r

Of Greece, she strikes her celebrating chords.

So will she, Mycon, to the conqu'ring son

Of Neocles, our second guardian pow'r,

Cries Haliartus; but too long I wait

To hail my holy mistress. She, rejoins

The swain, hath left this mountain. Forty days,

Since I beheld Masistius, are elaps'd;

His welcome hand before Melissa plac'd

A woman, rather deity in form;

The hoary temple with her beauty seem'd

Illumin'd; regal was her state; her spouse,

The youthful king of Macedon, was by.

She, in Melissa's presence, cast aside

Her majesty; a suppliant in these words,

Whose strong impression I retain, she spake:

"Most gracious, learn'd, and prudent of thy rank,

"In Greece the highest, I, in Delphi born,

"Phoebean Timon's child, a pious suit

"Both in my father's and Apollo's name

"To thee prefer. Trachiniae's neighb'ring walls

"Contain the object of my tend'rest care,

"Sandaucè, thither from Emathian bounds

"For help convey'd. Masistius will confirm,

"Whate'er I utter in Sandaucè's praise.

"Her virtues more than equal her estate

"Of princess, Xerxes' sister; but her woes

"Almost exceed her virtues. Nature droops

"Beneath its burden, sickness wastes her youth,

"Resists all med'cine, while her feeble frame

"To dissolution verges. O belov'd

"By ev'ry Muse illumining thy mind

"With ev'ry science, holy woman, fam'd

"Among these nations for benignant deeds,

"Vouchsafe, descending from thy pure abode,

"To grant thy healing aid". Masistius then:

"This is the princess, who her husband saw

"Slain at her feet, her infants doom'd to death

"By Euphrantides; never since that day

"The wound inflicted on her gentle heart

"Admitted cure." The charitable suit

Prevail'd, and soon Trachiniae's gates receiv'd

The priestess borne in Amarantha's car.

Here Haliartus: Hast thou never seen,

Among the Persians who frequent this hill,

A youth in rosy vigour, by the name

Of Artamanes known? I have, returns

The goat-herd; he with Amarantha came;

Seem'd doubly anxious for Melissa's help

To yon afflicted princess; urg'd the suit

In Medon's name, his friend and saviour styl'd,

Who made him captive on Psittalia's shore.

But on his cheek the roses, thou dost paint,

No longer bloom; his visage, worn and pale,

Denotes some inward malady, or grief.

Now, Meliboeus, to my longing ear

Thy history unfold. We parted last,

Thou mayst remember, on this fatal spot.

The gentle Agis from this point survey'd

Yon froth of torrents in their stony beds,

Yon shagged rocks, and that disastrous pass

Beneath us; whence Barbarian numbers huge

O'erwhelm'd Thermopylae. But first accept

Refreshment. Under hairy boughs of pines

A rustic board he piles with oaten loaves,

Dry'd fruits and chestnuts; bubbling nigh, a spring

Supplies their bev'rage. Here th' illustrious son

Of Lygdamis recounts a copious tale

To wond'ring Mycon; but his birth conceals,

And consanguinity with Caria's queen.

He stops to note the narrow passage throng'd

With laden mules and camels. Mycon then:

These are my constant spectacle; his host

Mardonius now assembles. He transports,

Alpenus, yonder Locrian town, receives

The gather'd produce of Thessalia's fields;

Nicaea's fort contains an equal store,

Preparatives for war. Where lies the camp,

The Carian questions? On the Malian plain,

Which Oeta's cliffs command, the swain reply'd.

New tents on clear Spercheos daily rise

Of Persians banded from their winter holds;

Thou shalt behold them; follow. Both proceed

Along the green expanse Melissa lov'd;

Where genial spring had form'd of tufted shrubs

A florid cincture to the lucid pool

Behind the dome, inviolable seat

Of all the Muses. Thence harmonious nymphs,

Part of Melissa's ministerial choir,

Left in their function, with mellifluent voice

To harps in cadence true enchant the soul

Of Haliartus, doubly charm'd to hear

Leonidas the theme. With numbers sweet

His praise inwoven by Melissa's skill

Was their diurnal song. But sorrow soon

Invades a breast, where gratitude presides;

The time and place to Haliartus rise,

Where he and Medon took their last farewell

Of that devoted hero. In a sigh

The Carian thus: O well-remember'd scene

Once to these eyes delectable! Thy flow'rs

Have lost their odour; thy crystalline pool

Is dull in aspect to my sad'ning sight;

You cannot sooth, melodious maids, the pain

Of recollection, starting at the name

Your measures sound. Beneath yon solemn beech

Regret sits weeping; Lacedaemon's king

There of terrestrial music heard the last

From Aeschylus, the last of banquets shar'd

With good Oïleus' daughter. Mycon here:

Suppress this grief; the priestess has forbid

All lamentation for that hero's fate,

Who died so glorious. Follow to the cliff.

They soon attain a high projecting point,

When Haliartus in a second sigh:

Here stood Melissa; from her sacred lips

The queen of Caria hence endur'd reproof;

Hence did the great Leonidas explore

Th' advancing Persians, when his prudent care

The trees and marble fragments had amass'd,

Which from the mountain overwhelm'd below

Such multitudes of foes. But, Mycon, speak,

What is that cross beside the public way?

Ah! Meliboeus, let thy spirit grieve

Like mine, exclaims, in gushing tears, the swain;

Lo! Xerxes' coward vengeance! Thou behold'st

Leonidas suspended on that cross.

As oft, when lightning strikes the human frame,

The wound, though imperceptible, destroys

Each vital pow'r throughout the stiff'ning limbs,

Which still retain their posture; rigid thus

Is Haliartus; riveted to earth

He seems, nor utters sound, nor breathes, nor moves

His ghastly eyeballs. Now, when Mycon thrice

His name repeated, briefly he replies:

I am benumb'd—Conduct me to a cell

Where I may slumber—Tend thy herd—Expect

Me at thy home. A mossy cave is nigh;

There Mycon leaves him. Haliartus stays,

Not slumb'ring, but, when Mycon is remote,

Darts from the shelter, traverses a wood,

Descends a crag, which bounds the upper straits,

Thence winds his rapid journey to the cross,

Which stands a witness of Barbaric rage.

His ardent zeal to free those honour'd bones

Admits no pause. The midnight watch is past;

Importunate and hateful, birds obscene

Are gather'd round; disturb'd, their grating shrieks

They mix, and clatter their ill-omen'd wings.

A station'd guard is rous'd; resistless force

Surrounds the Carian, seizes, leads him bound

Before the chieftain of a camp advanc'd.

He, at the sight of Haliartus charg'd

With guilt, whose punishment is death, commands

Th' accusing soldiers to retire, and thus:

Alas! hath sorrow so impair'd the hue

Of Artamanes, that oblivion masks

His face from Haliartus. Thee I know,

Thee Meliboeus once, benignant swain,

My comforter in bondage, when we plough'd

The Grecian seas in Delphian Timon's bark.

Was not I present, when the genuine seed

Of Lygdamis in thee Aronces trac'd?

But, O! illustrious brother of a queen

Ador'd in Asia, what disastrous star

Thy midnight steps misguided, to incur

The king's immutable decree of death?

Thy bold attempt was virtuous, but his will

Hath made thy virtue criminal. Thy head

At his own peril Artamanes still

Shall guard; thy liberty accept; myself

Will be thy guide to safety. Ah! replies

The gen'rous son of Lygdamis, and clasps

The meritorious Persian, I perceive

Still unimpair'd thy virtues; but receive

Thy noble proffer back. For my behoof

Not with its shadow danger shall approach

My friend; thy pris'ner let me rest till morn.

A lib'ral garb is all the boon I crave,

Then to Mardonius lead me; tell my crime,

No grace solicit; who I am, conceal.

In tears, replied the satrap: Then thou diest;

The royal edict cannot be controll'd.

It can, return'd the Carian; rest assur'd,

My preservation in myself I bear.

Oh! that with equal certainty my pow'r

Might from thy bosom chace that inmate new,

Whate'er it be, which violates thy peace,

Thy early youth disfigures, and consumes

Its fruit unripe. Ah! tell me, is it grief

For some dead friend, or sickness, or the smart

Of injury, or love? Acanthè wak'd

That tender thought, which soften'd on the tongue

Of Haliartus. From the Persian's breast

A sigh, deep note of agony, which riv'd

His gentle heart, accompanied these words:

Endear'd associate in affliction past,

Thou, and thou only, dost unlock the breast

Of Artamanes. It is love, my friend;

The object, once possessing ev'ry charm

Exterior, still each beauty of the soul,

By malady incurable devour'd

From day to day is hast'ning to the tomb.

Oh! long deplor'd Sandaucè; thee my steps

Shall follow close—My passion is unknown

To her; peculiar was her state and mine,

Too delicate at first for me to speak,

For her to hear. My hopes malignant time

Hath wasted since, my health in her decay.

But while my heart is bleeding for my love,

The sluice grows wider, and to friendship pours

A stream enlarg'd. Thy danger—Ah! permit,

That I reveal thy origin and rank;

Thy sister's name can shake the king's decree.

No, Artamanes, by th' immortal gods,

Rejoins the Carian; of my just attempt,

I, if succeeding, all the merit knew,

If taken, knew my ransom. But the stars,

Half through their circles run, suggest repose.

May grief-asswaging heaviness of sleep

Embalm thy eyelids, and like mine thy breast

Feel no disquiet; mayst thou rise again,

Saluting hope the harbinger of peace.

Stretch'd on a carpet Haliartus slept;

Not so the troubled Persian, long disus'd

To lenient rest. Before the dawn he rose;

Among the Greek auxiliars he procur'd

Apparel fair of Greece. His Carian guest

Attir'd he guided o'er the Malian beach,

To that august pavilion, which contain'd

The royal person once, Mardonius now

In all the state of Xerxes, save the crown.

Thus Artamanes: See a hapless man,

Who hath attempted to remove the corse

Of Sparta's king. That hapless man must die,

Returns the gen'ral; Xerxes so ordain'd,

Not I. Then absent on a charge remote,

Mardonius knew not, nor approv'd when known,

Th' indignity that noble corse sustain'd.

To him the Carian: Mindarus to death,

With hecatombs of nobles thou decreest,

Who in Euboea will appease my ghost.

Ha! who art thou, in agitation spake

The satrap? Guard, bid Lamachus approach,

Our visitor so recent from that isle.

He was not far; the son of Gobryas thus

Address'd him ent'ring: Note that stranger well.

Why dost thou start? Themistocles can boast

No bolder warrior, Lamachus exclaim'd;

I was his captive in th' Orēan fight.

Again the Carian: Truth for once he speaks;

I dragg'd him bound my captive on that field;

Ariobarzanes felt me; further learn,

By me the savage Demonax was slain.

But to have rescu'd from inhuman wrong

The mortal part of that transcendent man,

Who living shook all Asia with dismay,

Had been my proudest boast. Mardonius then:

By Horomazes, I admire and prize

Thy gen'rous flame, brave warrior! Under charge

Of Artamanes in Trachiniae's round

Awhile remain. Now, Lamachus, ascend

Some ready bark; revisit yonder isle;

This Greek for Mindarus exchange; redeem

The rest of Asia's nobles; I allot

For each a talent. In these words salute

Themistocles: "To Athens I have sent

"Young Alexander, Macedonia's prince,

"Ambassador of friendship; I would call

"Themistocles ally; himself may name,

"But Persia's bounty shall exceed his price.

"This if his Attic arrogance rejects,

"Tell him, Mardonius, who disdains a war

"Of oars and sails, the dubious ocean's sport,

"Will give him battle on the plains of Thebes."

Though Artamanes joyfully beholds

His friend in safety, with a trembling step

Trachiniae's gates he passes to the roof,

Which holds Sandaucè. Ent'ring, he perceives

Melissa. She, transported at the sight

Of Haliartus, thus began: O friend!

Dear to my sire, to all th' Oïlean house,

What unexpected ecstacy were mine

At thy appearance, if—Ah! Persian lord,

Sandaucè, sweet Sandaucè, yields to fate.

Her dying lips on Artamanes call;

Soft gratitude o'erflows her gentle breast;

Her wish is eager, ere she breathe her last,

To see her friend and guardian. Ending here,

She moves before him; with unstable feet,

With other prompters, anguish and despair,

He follows. Pallid on her mournful couch

The princess lies; her infants weep around;

Bright Amarantha in disorder'd garb,

Unloosen'd hair, and frantic with distress,

Stands nigh. The graces sadden on her front;

Her beauteous eyes a gushing torrent pour

Like overswelling fountains, once serene

The lucid mirrors to encircling flow'rs,

Now troubled by a storm, which levels round

The growth of shade, and scatters on their face

Uprooted shrubs in bloom. Her languid lips

At length unclosing, thus Sandaucè spake:

Omniscient God of nature! let me lift

My voice appealing. When before me lay

Autarctus slaughter'd, when these babes, condemn'd

By cruel rites, to sacrifice were led,

Did not the creature of thy tend'rest mold

Feel as a wife, a mother, and receive

A cureless wound? Thy providence uprais'd

A kind protector through my lengthen'd walks

Of grief, till now they terminate in death.

If to his gen'rous purity of care,

Assiduous, kind and pious, time hath rais'd

Within my breast a secret, soft return,

Was this an error? Hath my heart abus'd

The sensibility, thou gav'st? Alone

Art thou my judge. Creator, I obey;

Before thy awful presence thou dost call

Sandaucè's youth; unconscious of a crime,

My debt avow'd of gratitude I pay

By this confession of my fleeting breath

To Artamanes. O! illustrious youth,

Supreme in rank, in virtue still more high,

Thy care continue to these orphan babes.

She ceas'd, and speechless on her pillow sunk.

Th' enamour'd Persian instant on the floor

Dropp'd, like a stony mass, which inward throes

Of earth convulsive from a cliff disjoins;

Dead monument of ruin on the beach

Immoveable it lies. Melissa calls

On Haliartus; suddenly he bears

The hapless youth, inanimate and cold,

To an adjoining chamber. There outstretch'd,

Restor'd to sense by kind, unwearied zeal

In Haliartus, all the night he roam'd

Through sad delirium's labyrinths till morn;

When lo! Melissa: Comfort thee, she said,

The princess lives; the burden from her mind

Discharg'd, hath render'd to the pow'rs of life

Exertion less confin'd, rekindling hope

Of restoration. So th' all-ruling gods

Vicissitude to nature have decreed;

The mind, the body languishes to-day,

Revives to morrow. . . . Interrupting came

Mardonius thus: What tidings have I heard

Of Artamanes and the princess dead

By malady most rare, a mutual flame

Too long conceal'd? But ent'ring I receiv'd

A milder tale; they live. Thou holy Greek!

Employ thy science; save a lovely dame,

Though Persian born; in him preserve my friend;

Mardonius, long thy country's foe, to thee

Will ne'er be hostile. To Sandaucè go,

Say from my lips, and, Artamanes, hear,

The flow'r of nobles Xerxes shall not lose

Through disappointed passion; were my friend

Less than he is, among the satraps least,

At my enforcement shall the king unite

Their nuptial hands. Now rouse thee, gallant youth,

Not long thy gen'ral from his side can spare

Thy worth approv'd. Masistius is remote;

In virtue rich beyond a mortal's share,

But to that virtue never yielding rest,

He for a time on high adventure bent

Hath left me; thou his vacant place must fill.

The son of Gobryas to his tent returns.

End of the Twentieth Book.

ERRATA.

- B. XI. l. 157. For conflagation, read conflagration.

- B. XI. l. 374. For onc f, read once of.

- B. XVI. l. 377. After calm, place a full stop.

- B. XVII. l. 47. After Iris, instead of a full stop, place a comma.

Information about this book

Title statement

The Athenaid: a poem, by the author of Leonidas. [pt.2]

Glover, Richard, 1712-1785.

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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4813

ID [isbn10]

1106018125

ID [isbn13]

9781106018120

ID [TCP]

K078097.002

ID [BIBNO]

CW3313948294

ID [ECLL]

0674600602

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Source

— The Athenaid: a poem, by the author of Leonidas., Glover, Richard, 1712-1785.. 3v.,plate ; 12⁰. London :: printed for T. Cadell,. 1787.. [Author of Leonidas = Richard Glover.] [Edited by Mrs. Halsey.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT96995.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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