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THE ATHENAID. A POEM.

VOL. II.

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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.

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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
[2] 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.
[3] 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,
[4] 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.
[5] 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,
[6] 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
[7] 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
[8] 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,
[9] 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
[10] 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
[11] 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:

[12]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.
[13] 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
[14] 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
[15] 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
[16] 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;
[17] 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
[18] 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
[19] 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.

[20]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
[21] 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
[22] 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.
[23] 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
[24] 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
[25] 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,
[26] 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.

[27]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,
[28] 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,
[29] 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
[30] 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.

[31]

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,
[32] 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
[33] 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:

[34]

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
[35] 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.
[36] 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
[37] 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;
[38] 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,
[39] 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
[40] 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
[41] 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
[42] 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,
[43] 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.

[44]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
[45] 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,
[46] 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
[47] 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,
[48] 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,
[49] 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,
[50] 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;
[51] 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;
[52] 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.

[53]

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,
[54] 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,
[55] 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,
[56] 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
[57] 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,
[58] 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
[59] 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
[60] 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
[61] 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
[62] 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,
[63] 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
[64] 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.

[65]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
[66] 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:

[67]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,
[68] 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.

[69]

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
[70] 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.
[71] 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,
[72] 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
[73] 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,
[74] 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,
[75] 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
[76] '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,
[77] 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.

[78]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.
[79] 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.

[80]

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
[81] 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.
[82] 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:

[83]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,
[84] 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
[85] 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.

[86]

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.
[87] 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.

[88]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.

[89]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
[90] 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
[91] 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
[92] 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.

[93]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,
[94] 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
[95] 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,
[96] 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
[97] 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,
[98] 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.

[99]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
[100] 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
[101] 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;
[102] 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' enve⯑nom'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
[103] 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:

[104]

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,
[105] 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.

[106]

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
[107] 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,
[108] 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
[109] 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
[110] 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,
[111] 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,
[112] 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
[113] 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
[114] 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.

[115]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
[116] 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
[117] 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
[118] 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
[119] 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
[120] 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.
[121] 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
[122] 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.

[123]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
[124] 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
[125] 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,
[126] 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
[127] 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,
[128] '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
[129] 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
[130] 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.

[131]

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
[132] 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
[133] 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
[134] 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.

[135]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:

[136]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,
[137] 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,
[138] 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,
[139] 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
[140] 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
[141] 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
[142] 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,
[143] 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
[144] 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
[145] 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.

[146]

Timoxenus conven'd them. Swift the chief

Diſpatch'd them ardent to their native ſtates,

Thence their collected citizens in arms,

The guardians of Chalcidic walls, to lead.

Three days elaps'd; the embaſſy arriv'd.
Amid the ſenate, on his chair of ſtate,
The archon ſat. Th' Athenian's ſure ſupport
Behind is planted. Fierce in tone and look
Th' Orēan herald repreſents his lord:

Ye men of Chalcis, Demonax requires
That you acknowledge Xerxes; that your gates
A Perſian garriſon admit. Be wiſe;
Refuſal draws perdition on your heads.

Timoxenus turns pale; his falt'ring lips
Make no reply. Th' indignant ſenate mourn
Their ſtate diſhonour'd by a timid chief,
[147] 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.

[148]

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,
[149] 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
[150] 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
[151] 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
[152] 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
[153] 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
[154] 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.

[155]

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
[156] 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,
[157] 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
[158] 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
[159] 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,
[160] 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
[161] 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
[162] 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,
[163] 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
[164] 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
[165] 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,
[166] Through open'd portals iſſuing to the plain,
Are forc'd, diſhearten'd by a toilſome march,
To range their numbers for immediate fight.
The wary ſon of Neocles ſuſpends
Th' attack, till burſting drifts of ſouthern clouds
Beat on the faces of his harraſs'd foes
A ſtorm of blinding ſleet; then ruſhes down
In three deep columns. Of th' Orēan line
The right, which Mindarus conducting wheels
Along the ſea's flat margin, ſore is gall'd
By unremitted ſhow'rs from bows and ſlings
On well-rang'd veſſels. Lamachus commands
The left. Nearchus from the quarry pours
An ambuſh'd force, and breaks the hoſtile flank.
Compact of vet'rans, cull'd from ev'ry ſtate,
That wedge of war, whoſe briſtly front diſplay'd
Athenian ſpears and Spartan mingling beams,
(Themiſtocles the leader) ſlow but ſure
Bears down the center. At a ſecond breach
[167] 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,
[168] 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
[169] 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
[170] 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
[171] 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.
[172] 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
[173] 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,
[174] 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.
[175] 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
[176] 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:

[177]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
[178] Than arts excelling, him your warriors prize.
Them, ere two monthly periods of the ſun,
You cannot want. Thick verdure muſt inveſt
The meadows, earth her foodful ſtores mature,
Before Mardonius can his numbers lead
From Theſſaly remote. Ere then, my friends,
Themiſtocles will conquer, and erect
Cecropia's ſtandard on Orēan walls;
Your timely aid he timely will reſtore
To fill the army of united Greece.

The gen'ral voice aſſents, and all retire,
While to her home Timothea brings her gueſts.
To her Sicinus prudent: Not an hour,
Till I rejoin thy conſort, ſhould be loſt.
She then: Moſt faithful, from my arm receive
This bracelet rich in gems, Barbaric ſpoil;
Bear this to Chalcis, to Acanthè give;
Say, how I prize her elevated mind,
[179] 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
[180] 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.

[181]

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:

[182]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.

[183]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
[184] 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
[185] 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
[186] My private ear. Themiſtocles, he ſaid,
If I deliver tidings, which import
Thy preſent ſafety, and thy future weal,
I ſhall exact thy promiſe in the name
Of all the gods and goddeſſes to wave
Enquiry, whence I come, or who I am.
Firſt know, that Mindarus, the Perſian chief
In Oreus, newly for Theſſalia's coaſt
Embark'd, whoſe neighb'ring Pagaſaean cape
Looks on Euboea. He this day return'd,
And reinforcement from Mardonius brought,
Ten thouſand ſpears. Theſſalia hath ſupply'd
Three thouſand more. An army huge defends
Th' Orēan circuit. Further be inform'd
That ſev'n Geraeſtian homicides are ſworn
To thy deſtruction. By their ſecret wiles
The houſe of rich Timoxenus was fir'd;
Them in the field hereafter, all combin'd
Againſt thy head, their ſable arms will ſhew;
[187] 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,
[188] 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.
[189] So when an earthquake rives a mountain's ſide,
Where ſtagnant water, gather'd and confin'd
Within a deep vacuity of rock,
For centuries hath ſlept, releas'd, the floods
In roaring cataracts impetuous fall;
They roll before them ſhepherds and their flocks,
Herds and their keepers; cottage, fold and ſtall,
Promiſcuous ruins floating on the ſtream,
Are borne to plains remote. Now Oreus lifts
Her ſtately tow'rs in ſight. Three myriads arm'd
Before the walls hath Demonax arrang'd
In proud defiance. So, at firſt o'erthrown,
Antaeus huge, upriſing in his might
Freſh and redoubled by his parent earth,
Return'd to combat with Alcmena's ſeed.

Wide ſtretch'd th' Orēan van; the wary ſon
Of Neocles to equal that extent
Spread his inferiour number. By a front
[190] 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;
[191] 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
[192] 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.

[193]Still Demonax reſiſts; while near him tow'rs
Ariobarzanes, moving rock of war
In weight and ſtature. Of Euboeans, forc'd
By ſavage pow'r to battle, numbers low'r
Surrend'ring banners, ſome to Cleon, ſome
To humble Styra's well-conducted ſword,
And thine, ſad youth, a while by glory taught
To ſtrive with anguiſh, and ſuſpend deſpair,
Cleora's huſband. Mindarus appears,
Who warns the tyrant timely to retreat,
Ere quite envelop'd by the wheeling files
Of Aeſchylus and Medon. Lo! in front,
More dang'rous ſtill, amid ſelected ranks,
Themiſtocles. The monſter gnaſh'd his teeth;
His impious voice, with execrations hoarſe,
Aſſail'd the heav'nly thrones; his buckler firm
He graſp'd, receding to th' Orēan wall;
Where, under vaulted ſheets of miſſive arms
Whirl'd on his fierce purſuers, through the gates
[194] 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:

[195]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:

[196]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:

[197]

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.

[198]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,
[199] 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
[200] 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,
[201] 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,
[202] 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
[203] 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,
[204] 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
[205] 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.

[206]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:

[207]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,
[208] 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,
[209] 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.

[210]

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,
[211] 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
[212] 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
[213] 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.
[214] 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,
[215] 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
[216] 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
[217] 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
[218] The various bands; the pris'ners were ſecur'd.
Throughout th' Orēan ſtreets and dwellings reign'd
Tranquillity and order. Him the ſon
Of Neocles beſpake: To-morrow's dawn
Shall ſee thee honour'd, as becomes a chief,
Whom Ariſtides nam'd, and Athens choſe
To ſave Euboea. I defer till night
Our conſultations. I, not wanted here,
Will reaſcend the citadel; the voice
Of friendſhip calls me to a tender care.

He ſeeks the fane. Elephenor he greets;
Applauſe to him in gratitude unfeign'd
Preſenting, next his earneſt lips enquire
Of Hyacinthus. Here the rev'rend man:

Firſt know, his dear Cleora is alive.
I, prieſt of Jove, and Pamphila my wife,
Who to th' Olympian empreſs in this ſeat
Of blended rites are miniſters, when told
[219] 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,
[220] 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!
[221] 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
[222] 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
[223] 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;
[224] 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.

[225]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.

[226]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
[227] 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,
[228] 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
[229] 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,
[230] 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,
[231] "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
[232] 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
[233] 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
[234] 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,
[235] 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,
[236] 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.
[237] 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
[338] 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,
[239] 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;
[240] 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
[241] 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
[242] 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.

[243]

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.
[244] 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
[245] 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,
[246] 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
[247] 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
[248] 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:

[249]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.
[250] 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:

[251]"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:

[252]"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.
[253] 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:

[254]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
[255] 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:

[256]

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;
[257] 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,
[258] 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
[259] 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,
[260] 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:

[261]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.

[262]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.

[263]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
[264] No bolder warrior, Lamachus exclaim'd;
I was his captive in th' Orēan fight.

Again the Carian: Truth for once he ſpeaks;
I dragg'd him bound my captive on that field;
Ariobarzanes felt me; further learn,
By me the ſavage Demonax was ſlain.
But to have reſcu'd from inhuman wrong
The mortal part of that tranſcendent man,
Who living ſhook all Aſia with diſmay,
Had been my proudeſt boaſt. Mardonius then:

By Horomazes, I admire and prize
Thy gen'rous flame, brave warrior! Under charge
Of Artamanes in Trachiniae's round
Awhile remain. Now, Lamachus, aſcend
Some ready bark; reviſit yonder iſle;
This Greek for Mindarus exchange; redeem
The reſt of Aſia's nobles; I allot
[265] 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
[266] 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:

[267]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
[268] 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
[269] 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
[270] 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.

Appendix A 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.

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Citation Suggestion for this Object: TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4813 The Athenaid a poem by the author of Leonidas pt 2. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-58D0-6

THE ATHENAID.BOOK the ELEVENTH.

THE ATHENAID.BOOK the TWELFTH.

THE ATHENAID.BOOK the THIRTEENTH.

THE ATHENAID.BOOK the FOURTEENTH.

THE ATHENAID.BOOK the FIFTEENTH.

THE ATHENAID.BOOK the SIXTEENTH.

THE ATHENAID.BOOK the SEVENTEENTH.

THE ATHENAID.BOOK the EIGHTEENTH.

THE ATHENAID.BOOK the NINETEENTH.

THE ATHENAID.BOOK the TWENTIETH.