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' Orē an 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' Orē an 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 Orē an 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' Orē an 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' Orē an 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' Orē an 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' Orē an 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' Orē an 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.