When Hyacinthus first his couch forsook
Themistocles in care had follow'd close,
But secretly had noted well the pray'r
To Juno sent, and part approving, part
Condemning, heard. Accoutr'd now in mail,
The young Carystian, to his list'ning friend,
Relates the wonders of his recent dream.
Th' Athenian, while most cordial in the care
Of Hyacinthus, whom his woes endear'd,
Still weigh'd his use. This answer he devis'd
To ease the grief he pitied, and preserve
The worth essential to his own designs.
What thou hast told, Carystian, fires my breast;
It was a signal, by Saturnia held
To animate thy rage, and prompt thy arm
To action. She requires not, goddess wise,
Humiliation, scorns the sluggish mind,
Whose thoughts are creeping to Elysian rest.
They hush no throbs of anguish, while it rends
The mangled heartstrings, no not more than staunch
A bleeding wound, or quench a fever's flame.
We earn Elysium, and our evils here
Surmount, alike by action. Manly toil
Repels despair. Endurance of a storm,
Which rocks the vessel, marches long and swift,
A river pass'd, while enemies in front
By whirls of javelins chase the rapid ford,
A rampart scal'd, the forcing of a camp,
Are cures of sorrow. In her vision clear
So did heav'n's empress intimate this morn.
Me too she visited in sleep; her voice
My waking thoughts confirm'd; Cleora lives;
Else why the goddess thus: Arise, O son
Of Neocles, of this afflicted youth
Be thou sure guide to rescue his espous'd;
The profanation of my rites chastise.
The fiction wraps in credulous delight
The young Carystian's confidence, who feels
Circæan magic from his patron's eye,
His tongue, and gesture. He, quick-sighted, turns
To swift advantage his delusion thus:
Come, let me try thy vigour; I am bound
To neighb'ring Styra; fly before thy friend;
Among that gen'rous people, who, their all,
Two gallies fent 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 Laeonian bands;
His captivating presence both enjoy,
Which else no eye most piercing might discern,
Not ev'n the hundred never-sleeping lights,
Which on the margin of her parent flood
Incessant watch'd the progeny transform'd
Of Inachus, the Argive watry god;
Where undistinguish'd in the grazing herd
His daughter wept, nor he that daughter knew
A speechless suppliant. Recommenc'd, the march
Exhausts the day. Beneath a holy roof,
Which rose to Ceres, they their shelter'd limbs
To rest and food resign. There gently swell'd
Th' encircling ground, whence fair the morning smil'd
On little Styra, who, no queen superb
Of wide dominion, like a rural nymph
In decency of garb, and native locks,
Her humble circuit not unlovely shews.
She from Athenian boundaries of old
Her first inhabitants deriv'd, and pours
Her sons now forth Themistocles to greet,
Their eldest parent's hero. Lampon bold
Accosts him: Me the weak, but willing hand
Of Styra late enabled to enrol
My name with thine, unconquerable son
Of Neocles. Though feeble is her sword,
Her sinews boast of Attic vigour still.
Oh! that her means were equal to her love,
A lib'ral welcome thou and these should find;
But yon Geræstian oligarchy, foe
To equity and freedom, from our meads
Have newly swept our plenty. Ardent here,
Themistocles: By heav'n, my Styrian host,
Not thrice shall day illuminate your skies,
Ere double measure shall these petty lords
Repay to Styra. I am come to crush
Their usurpation, in Geræstus 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 Geræstian, 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 Geræstus arm,
Who will not fight to rivet on their necks
A galling yoke more fast. The whole defence,
Our oligarchal tyrants have to boast,
Are poor Barbarians, scarce three hundred strong,
Sav'd from the wrecks of those advent'rous ships,
Which round Euboea's rude Capharean cape
Had been detach'd thy navy to surround
In Artemisium's conflict. Now apart
Themistocles to Hyacinthus spake,
While in his care he lodg'd a casket seal'd,
Which held the talent promis'd to his sire:
This for thy father; tell him, I require
The stipulated bands' immediate march;
I wish to see them under thy command.
Thou know'st Diana's celebrated fane
At Amarynthus; if thou canst, young friend,
Be there before me. Pleas'd, the youth departs.
As in excursion from their waxen homes
A hive's industrious populace obey
The tinkling sound, which summons all to swarm;
So, when the trumpet's well-known voice proclaims
To arms, the Styrians, round the banner'd staff,
Which Lampon rais'd, are gather'd. There enjoin'd
To reassemble at a stated hour,
Their clinking armour in their homes they cleanse;
They whet their spears and falchions to chastise
Geræstian rapine. Ere the morning breaks,
Four hundred join Themistocles. He bends
To Amarynthus, seat of Dian pure,
His rapid course. Her edifice sublime,
Which overtops her consecrated bow'r,
The second noon discovers. Just arriv'd,
Carystian helmets round the temple shine,
By Hyacinthus and Nicanor led,
Joint captains. Staid Nicanor was the friend
Return'd from Oreus, who the tidings brought
Of poor Cleora's fate. Th' Athenian hails
The young commander: Gladly do I find
Thy speed surpassing mine; but swift explain,
Who is the priestess in this pure abode?
Then Hyacinthus: She, Eudora nam'd,
For sanctity of manners, rank and birth,
Through this well-people'd island is renown'd;
Authority her hand-maid. Her rich fane
With sumptuous off'rings shines; the wealthiest towns
Her intercession at the thrones of heav'n
Obsequious court, and dread her brow severe.
Of elevated stature, awful port,
She from Briareus, worshipp'd in our walls,
Proud origin derives. She twangs the bow,
The javelin lances through the tusky boar,
Chac'd o'er the temple's wide domain of wood;
Tall nymphs attend her, while the eyes abash'd
Of her own vassals shun her stately step.
Ah! couldst thou win her favour!. . . Haste, replies
The ready chief, to great Eudora say,
Themistocles of Athens humbly sues
To kiss the border of her hallow'd stole.
He calls; the martial harness from his limbs
Attentive slaves unclasp; ablution pure
From limpid streams effaces ev'ry stain
Of his laborious march; a chlamys flows
Loose from his shoulders. Casting from his brow
The plumed casque, uncover'd he ascends
The massy steps of that stupendous fane.
In admiration of the glories there,
Through cedar valves, on argent hinges pois'd,
He passes, where his own distinguish'd form
No ornament excells. In gold the shapes
Of wreaths and garlands, crescents, stars, and suns,
Hung round the columns; on the pavement broad,
Engraven tripods, vases, statues, busts
Of burnish'd brass and silver were dispos'd,
In graceful order. Pictures, where the lips
Seem speaking, limbs to act, and looks express
The various passions, which in varying hues
Exalt the human aspect, or degrade,
Enrich the walls. Orion writhes his bulk,
Transfix'd by arrows from th' insulted queen
Of chastity. Devour'd by rav'nous hounds,
His own, Actæon's metamorphos'd head
Reclines in blood his newly-branching horns.
Unbid by OEneus to th' Ætolian feast,
There on her vengeful Calydonian boar
Looks Phoebe down, while red her crescent darts
A flame of anger through disparting clouds.
Compell'd to lave her violated limbs,
Disrob'd Calisto on the fountain's brink
There weeps in vain her virgin vow profan'd.
Here deeds of Mercy smile. Appeas'd, the queen
Folds in the mantle of a silver mist
Pale Iphigenia, from the holy knife
At Aulis wafts, and substitutes the doe
A full-atoning victim. Here she quits
Her Tauric dome, unhospitably stain'd
With blood of strangers. O'er th' entrusted keel,
Of sad Orestes, who her image bears,
To chace the Furies from his haunted couch,
A guardian bland she hovers. Through its length
Magnificent the midmost isle conveys
The terminating sight, where deep and wide
A luminous recess, half-circling, shews
Pilasters chisell'd, and a sumptuous freeze.
An elevated pavement, yet below
The sight, whose level skims a surface broad
Of marble green, sustains the goddess form
In Parian whiteness, emblem of her state,
In height five cubits. Purity severe
O'ershades her beauty. Elegantly group'd
Without confusion, dryads, oreads round,
With nymphs of lakes and fountains fill the space.
Lo! not unlike the deity she serves,
Eudora stands before her, and accosts
Th' advancing hero thus: I trust, thy soul
Some great, some righteous enterprize conceives
Else nothing less might justify the din
Of arms around me, and these banners proud
Fix'd in my presence on religious ground
Inviolably sacred. I would know,
Themistocles, thy purpose. He one knee
Obsequious bends; his lips approach the hem
Of her pontific robe, nor she forbids.
He then replied: I should not have besought
Thy condescension, priestess, had my soul
Less than a righteous enterprize conceiv'd,
Deserving sanction from thy holy, pure,
All-influencing wisdom; to thy feet
I bring my standard, and my sword devote
Spontaneous to thy service. While I cast
My wond'ring eyes on this enrich'd abode,
On thee, its chief embellishment, and know
That impious neighbours in Geræstus 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 Geræstian woods.
A guard was station'd, where the narrow path
Gave entrance; thither Hyacinthus led
A chosen troop, and fierce in accent spake:
Train'd to an oar, vile remnants of a wreck,
Drop, ye Barbarian vagabonds, those arms
From your ignoble, mercenary hands;
Th' invincible Themistocles requires
Immediate passage. Dubious paus'd their chief,
A low Pamphylian rower. In contempt
From his inverted spear a pond'rous blow
The youth discharg'd, removing all suspence.
Prone fell the ruffian, like the victim beast,
Stunn'd by a brawny sacrificer's blow,
Before an altar's fire. His troop disperse.
The Styrians active, by the prudent son
Of Neocles instructed, beat the wood,
Wielding the bill and ax in wary dread
Of ambush. No resistance checks the march;
The speeding legion penetrates the shades;
Thence rushing dreadful on Geræstus spreads
A blaze of steel. So fiery sparks, conceal'd
Long in some ancient mansion's girding beam,
There gath'ring force unseen, a passage break
For conflagration to devour a town.
Eudemus joins Themistocles, and thus:
Behold, our miscreant oligarchy rest
On supplication, now their sole defence;
The injur'd people follow; hear the cry
Of imprecation. Sev'n flagitious men,
By rapine, lust, and homicide deform'd,
Those olive boughs profaning by their touch,
Come to pollute thy presence. They approach,
To whom th' Athenian, stern in visage, spake:
Ye little tyrants, who in crimes aspire
To emulate the greatest, do ye come
To render up your persons? else expect
That populace to seize you, and a pile
Of stones to crush your execrable heads.
He turns away. The fife and trumpet sound;
The sev'n surrender mute; Eudemus glad
Secures them, giv'n to Styra's band in charge.
Reviv'd Geræstus to her public place,
Which heretofore the people wont to fill
In free assembly, as her guardian god
Receives the Attic hero. All the way
He passes, curses on the tyrants heap'd
He list'ning hears, from children for their sires,
From wives for husbands, mothers for their sons,
The various victims of unlawful pow'r.
Dishonour'd damsels, early robb'd of fame,
An orphan train, of heritage despoil'd,
Indignant husbands, of their wives depriv'd,
Their joint upbraidings sound. By all the gods,
Th' Athenian bitterly sarcastic spake,
Black spirits, your fertility in vice
Deserves my wonder; in this narrow spot
You are distinguish'd in the sight of heav'n
By multifarious crimes above the king,
Who hath all Asia for his ample range.
Be not offended, my Geræstian 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, Geræstians, you are free.
Elect Eudemus archon; of the wealth,
Those wretches gather'd, part to public use,
To suff'rers part distribute. I demand
But this requital; you have felt the woes
Of tyranny; obtaining from my hand
Redress, that hand enable to preserve
The liberty of others; Greece demands
From you that succour, which this happy day
She hath by me imparted. He withdraws
From acclamations and assenting hearts
To give Eudemus counsel. Night is spent.
He swiftly back to Amarynthus flies;
Each tyrant follows; from his dungeon drawn,
The sun, spectator of his chains and shame,
He dreads; in horror, conscious of his guilt,
He shrinks at day like Cerberus, when dragg'd
By Hercules from hell. Th' accepted chief,
His captives ranging in Eudora's sight,
Unfolds their dire variety of crimes,
Left to her sentence; awful she decides:
He, who oppresses, who enslaves mankind,
Himself should feel enthralment, shame and stripes.
Let these to some fell trasicker in slaves
Be sold, transported in remotest climes
To witness Greek severity on vice;
So by my voice should Xerxes be condemn'd;
So shall the monster Demonax. The means
I find, Themistocles, in thee. Elate
To hear this great, authoritative dame,
The chief replies: Thy mandate is my law,
Thy equity is mine. Her stately brow
Unbending, she concisely questions thus:
How shall Eudora's favour mark thy worth?
Thy blessing grant, he answers, well appris'd,
That asking little best attains to all.
I may do more, she said; thy ripen'd thoughts
Impart hereafter; my extent of aid
Diana must determine. Now farewell.
He press'd no further, tow'rds Carystus turn'd
His march, and reach'd her portals, while the sun
Wanted three hours to finish his career.
There was a temple to Briareus built,
The son of Titan. In th' enormous shrine
His image vast to thirty cubits rose
In darkest marble. Terror, thick with curls
O'erlaid the forehead, thick th' engraven beard
The spacious chest o'ershadow'd; fifty shields,
As many maces of refulgent brass
The hundred hands upheld. Broad steps around
The pedestal ascended, that before
Th' outstretch'd Titanian feet religious fear
Accumulated off'rings might dispose,
So to propitiate the tremendous god.
In single state before this image stood
Nicomachus, the archon, to receive
His son triumphant with Cecropia's chief.
They now had pass'd th' expanded gates, and slow
Approach'd the shrine in military pomp
Along th' extensive isle. The walls and dome
Replied to fifes and trumpets, to the clink
Of manacles and setters, piercing sound,
Which told the wearer's guilt. Till now unmark'd,
A figure, grim and ghastly, from the crowd
Darts, and a poniard plunging in the breast
Of old Nicomachus, himself ascends
The pedestal, and lifting his red steel
On high, between the god's gigantic feet
Intrepid takes his station. Terror dims
Each gazing eye; th' illusive medium swells
His size; in fancy'd magnitude he tow'rs
Another son of Titan. As he stands
Intent to speak, Themistocles, alone
Of all th' assembly master of himself,
Cool gives a sign, when thus th' assassin speaks,
In phrase barbaric, and a soften'd look:
I am that Oxus, whom suspicion marks
A traitor to Cleora. Mistress dear,
(At this a torrent gushes from his eyes)
Thou knew'st me faithful. Listen, gracious lord,
Thou tend'rest consort of the tend'rest wife,
O Hyacinthus! listen to my tale,
Thou too wilt own me faithful: On the night,
Thy first of absence from Cleora's bed,
No more thy love to bless, assassins forc'd
Kind Glaucè's dwelling; me they bound; my voice
They barr'd; the priestess and her blameless maids
They strangled. Mounted on a rapid steed
One bore Cleora; two, robust and fell,
Were my unresting guards. Through trackless woods
Not far we journey'd; Demonax was near,
Just march'd to waste Eretria's neighb'ring land.
Conducting me to loneliest shades, my guides
Remain'd a while conferring. One, I knew,
Was Dacus, Dacus whom thy sire preferr'd
In trust to all his menials. Words like these
He utter'd: 'Thus Nicomachus enjoin'd;
'Transporting Oxus to obscurest wilds,
'Destroy, conceal him there. Access by night
'To Demonax obtain; by earnest suit
'From him exact a promise to declare,
'That Oxus brought his daughter, then set free
'Was sent rewarded to his Sacian home.
'Receive the gold proclaim'd; depart. Be sure
'No other name, than Oxus, pass your lips.'
This said, they gor'd me with repeated wounds;
I sunk before them; they believ'd me dead.
Deep in a pit, o'ergrown with brambles thick,
They left me. Woodmen, haply passing, heard
My piercing groans; in pity to a hut
They bore me; herbs medicinal, and time,
Restor'd my strength. His garment he unfolds,
The crimson horrors of his num'rous scars
To shew. Carystians, I my vital breath
Among the Saces on the Caspian drew.
A Genius dwells, a native in the lake,
Who, in his function rising from the deep,
Reveals foul murder. 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 foulest murd'rer slain.
Now, mistress dear, sole object of my zeal,
Where'er thou art, if fleeting on some cloud
A bright aerial spirit; if below
Among the Genii of the earth, or seas,
Dost trace the caves, where shine carbuncles pure,
Or pluck the coral in cerulean grots,
Thy faithful slave shall follow, still perform
With his accustom'd vigilance thy will.
This said, he struck the poniard through his breast,
The blows repeating till he pierc'd the heart,
Then on the crimson'd pedestal reclin'd
His dying limbs, nor groan'd. What thoughts were thine,
Nicomachus! To thee are open'd wide
Death's portals; cold thy blood begins to flow.
An injur'd son beside thee strives to doubt
That he, who gave him being, now descends
To sure damnation for so black a crime;
But thou remov'st all doubt. Thy sister's ghost
Before thee seems to glide, and point thy way
To Erebus; Briareus' hundred hands
To brandish serpents, lashing from his fane
A sordid, grovelling parricide to hell.
At length, amid confession of thy guilt,
The furies snatch thee from the light of heav'n
To that eternal gloom. The fainting limbs
Of Hyacinthus forth Nicanor bears.
Religious dread beholds the shrine impure
With homicide; nor knows, what man, what god
Must be consulted, or what rite perform'd
To purge from deeds thus ominous the fane;
Till recollection prompts a sudden hope,
That wise, and great, and favour'd from above,
Themistocles may succour-He is gone.
In double consternation all disperse.
Night drops her curtain on the sleepless town.

End of the Thirteenth Book