O God of light and wisdom! thee the Muse
Once more addresses. Thou didst late behold
The Salaminian brine with Asian blood
Discolour'd. Climbing now the steep ascent
To thy meridian, for a stage of war
More horrible and vast, thy beaming eye
Prepare. Thou over wide Platæa's field,
Chang'd to a crimson lake, shall drive thy car,
Nor see a pause to havoc, till the West
In his dark chamb rs shuts thy radiant face.
Now had the herald, to Cecropia's chief
Sent by Pausanias, in his name requir'd
Immediate aid. No doubt suspends the haste
Of Aristides; who arrays his ranks
With cordial purpose to sustain that strength
Of Greece, Laconia's phalanx. Lo! in sight
New clouds of battle hov'ring. He discerns
Th' array of Leontiades, with wings
Of Macedonic, and Thessalian horse;
Then calls Sicinus: Friend, he said, observe;
Robust and bold, to perfidy inur'd,
Not less than arms, yon Thebans cross our march.
I trust the justice of our cause will foil
Them, thrice our number; but events like this
Are not in man's disposal. If I fall,
Not rashly, good Sicinus, rest assur'd,
Themistocles survives. The gate of Greece
He guards, Euboea and Thessalia holds,
Those granaries of plenty. Eastern shores
With all his force, perhaps victorious now,
Xanthippus will relinquish, and maintain
The sea auxiliar to thy prudent lord;
Thus all be well, though Aristides bleeds:
This to Themistocles report. But go,
Fly to Cleander; him and all the Greeks
Rouse from the fane of Juno to the field;
Both Spartans and Athenians want their aid.
Thy tribe, undaunted Cimon, place behind
Olympiodorus; if his active bands
Repel Thessalia's horse, avoid pursuit;
Wheel on the flank of Thebes. Here Delphi's priest:
Behold Emathia's standards front thy right;
With Haliartus, and Oïleus' son,
Let me be station'd there. I trust, the spouse
Of Amarantha, at her father's sight,
Will sheath a sword involuntary drawn,
Nor ties of hospitality and blood
Prosane to serve Barbarians. I accept
The gen'rous offer, sage and gallant seer,
Spakc Aristides. In that wing thy friend,
The learn'd and manly Æschylus presides.
But, to thy god appealing, I enjoin
Thy rev'rend head to cover in retreat
Its unpolluted hairs, should fire of youth,
Or yet more strong necessity, impel
Thy son to battle. Here th' enraptur'd priest:
The inspiration of my god I feel;
A glorious day to Athens I presage,
I see her laurels fresh. Apollo joins
His sister Pallas to preserve a race,
Which all the Muses love. His awful power
Will chain the monster parricide, and rouse
The Grecian worth in Alexander's heart.
These animated accents fire the line.
Within the measure of an arrow's flight
Each army now rank'd opposite. A thought
Of piety and prudence from his place
Mov'd Aristides. Single he advanc'd
Between the hosts; offensive arms he left
Behind him; ev'n his plumed helm resign'd
Gave to his placid looks their lib'ral flow.
Before him hung his ample shield alone,
Timothea's gift, whose sculptur'd face display'd
Truth, equity, and wisdom hand in hand,
As in his breast. Exalting high in tone
His gracious voice, he thus adjur'd his foes:
Ye men deriv'd from Cadmus, who in Greece
Establish'd letters, fruitful mother since
Of arts and knowledge, to Barbarian spoil
This hour expos'd; ye sons of Locris, hear,
Thessalians, Phocians, Dorians, all compell'd
By savage force to arm against your friends,
Of language, rites and manners with your own
Congenial: Aristides, in the name
Of all the Grecian deities, invokes
Your own sensations to disarm your hands
Of impious weapons, which retard the help
We bear to those now struggling in defence
Of Grecian freedom, sepulchres and fanes.
He said; was heard like Enoch, like the man
Who walk'd with God, when eminently good
Among th' obscene, the violent, and false,
Of justice and religion, truth and peace
He spake exploded, and from menac'd death
To God withdrew. The fell Boeotians rend
The sky with threat'ning clamour, and their spears
Shake in defiance; while the word to charge
Perfidious Leontiades conveys.
Retreating backward, Aristides cloaths
His face in terror. So Messiah chang'd
His countenance serene, when full of wrath
Bent on Satanic enemies, who shook
Heav'n's peaceful champaign with rebellious arms,
He grasp'd ten thousand thunders, and infix'd
Plagues in their souls; while darts of piercing fire
Through their immortal substances, by sin
Susceptible of pain, his glaring wheels
Shot forth pernicious. Aristides leads
His phalanx on. Now Greeks to Greeks oppose
Their steely structures of tremendous war.
With equal spears and shields their torrent fronts
They clash together; as the justling rocks,
Symplegades Cyanean, at the mouth
Of Thracia's foaming Bosphorus, were feign'd,
Infrangible opponents, to sustain
A mutual shock which tempested the frith,
Dividing Europe from the Orient world.
Meanwhile Phoebean Timon's glowing zeal,
Replete with patriot and religious warmth,
Thus in the wing which Æschylus had form'd,
Bespake the encircling chieftains: O'er the space
Between Asopus, and the main array
Of Thebes, I see the Macedonian horse
But half advanc'd: Their tardy pace denotes
Reluctance. Lo! I meditate an act.
To prove my zeal for universal Greece,
Her violated altars, and the tombs
Robb'd of their precious dust. My slender band,
So long companions in adventures high
With your choice Locrians, Haliartus, join
To Medon's banner. Æschylus, observe
My progress; if my piety succeeds,
Thou, as a soldier, take advantage full.
So saying, o'er the plain in solemn pace
His rev'rend form he moves, by snowy bands
Pontifical around his plumed helm
Distinguish'd. Thus from Salem's holy gate
Melchisedek, the priest of him Most High,
Went forth to meet, and benedictions pour
On Terah's son in Shaveh's royal vale.
The Macedonian squadrons at the sight
Fall back in rev'rence; their dismounting prince
So wills. The father and the son embrace.
Oh! Amarantha's husband! joyful sighs
The parent. Oh! my Amarantha's sire!
In equal joy the husband. Timon then:
A Greek in blood, to Delphi's priest ally'd,
The god of Delphi's blessing now secure;
Abandon these Barbarians to the fate,
Which in the name of Phoebus I denounce
For his insulted temple, and the rape
Of Amarantha from Minerva's shrine.
Yet to unsheath an unsuspected sword
Against them, neither I, nor heav'n require,
Less thy own honour; but repass the stream,
Amid this blind uproar unnotic'd seek
Thermopylæ again; and reach thy realm.
O'er all that clime Themistocles prevails,
My friend; his present amity obtain,
Cecropia's future love, nor hazard more
Thy fame and welfare. Aristides knows
My truth, replies the monarch; now to thee
Obedience prompt a second proof shall yield.
Ascend a steed; to Amarantha's arms
I will conduct thee first; th' auspicious flight
Of both, a father shall assist and bless.
They speed away, in extasy the sire
To clasp his darling child in Dirce's grove.
This pass'd in Medon's eye, who watchful stood
With Haliartus, and a troop advanc'd,
In care for Timon. When apparent now
The Macedonian squadrons quit the field
Of strife, the heavy-cuirass'd of his wing
With serry'd shields by Æschylus is led,
In evolution wheeling on the flanks
Of that strong mass'd battalia, which compos'd
The hostile center. First in phalanx stood
Unwilling Locrians. Medon lifts his voice,
And to each eye abash'd his awful shape,
Like some reproving deity, presents;
They hear, they see Oïleus in his son,
As ris'n a mourning witness of their shame
From his sepulchral bed. The banners drop
Before him; down their spears and bucklers fall;
They break, disperse, and fly with childrens' fear,
When by authority's firm look surpris'd
In some attempt forbidden, or unmeet.
Boeotian files are next. With sudden wheel
They form a front, and dauntless wait the assault.
Still in the van robust and martial Thebes
Unbroken stems th' agility and skill
Of her opponent Athens. Long unspent
The tide of well-conducted battle flows
Without decision strong. At length by fate
Is Leontiades impell'd to meet
Cecropia's chief, where Thebes began to feel
His mighty pressure. Whether justice strung
His nerves with force beyond a guilty hand,
Or of his manly limbs the vigour match'd
His fortitude of mind; his falchion clove
Down to the neck that faithless Greek, of Greece
The most malignant foe. The treacherous deed,
Which laid fair Thespia, with Platæan tow'rs
In dust, he thus aton'd. A bolt from heav'n
Thus rives an oak, whose top divided hangs
On either side obliquely from the trunk.
Murichides the Hellespontin bleeds,
Too zealous friend of Asia, in whose cause
This day he arm'd. By great Mardonius charg'd
Late messenger of friendship, he in peace
On Salaminian shores had touch'd the hand,
Which now amid the tumult pierc'd his heart,
Not willingly, if known. Then Lynceus fell,
From OEdipean Polynices sprung,
The last remains of that ill-fated house.
Mironides and Clinias near the side
Of Aristides fought, his strong support.
Yet undismay'd and firm three hundred chiefs,
Or sons of proudest families in Thebes,
Dispute the victory till death. Meantime
Olympiodorus from the left had gall'd
Thessalia's squadrons, like a sleety storm
Checking their speed. Athenian horse, though few,
Mix'd with their bowmen, well maintain'd their ground.
His own true-levell'd shaft transfix'd the throat
Of Larissean Thorax; who in dust
Buries at length his Aleuadian pride.
Rememb'ring all his charge bold Cimon rears
His mighty spear. Impetuous through a band
Of yielding Phocians he on Theban ranks
Falls like a rapid falcon, when his weight
Precipitates to strike the helpless prey.
Him slaughter follows; slaughter from the right
On Æschylus attends, and mightier waits
On Aristides. Justice in his breast
Awhile was blind to mercy undeserv'd,
Ev'n unimplor'd, by persevering foes
Invet'rate. Now on this empurpled stage
Of vengeance due to perfidy and crimes,
Twice their own number had the Athenians heap'd
Of massacred Boeotians; but as heav'n,
Not to destruction punishing, restrains
Its anger just, and oft the harden'd spares,
That time may soften, or that suff'rings past,
Not measur'd full, may turn the dread of more
To reformation; Aristides thus
Relenting bade retreat be sounded loud,
Then, by th' obedient host surrounded, spake
Serene: Enough of Grecian blood is spilt,
Ye men of Athens; low in dust are laid
The heads of those who plann'd the fall of Greece.
The populace obtuse, resembling you,
Enlighten'd people, as the sluggish beast
A gen'rous courser, let your pity save
In gratitude to Jove, creating yours
Unlike Boeotia's breed-Now form again.
Thus equity and mercy he combin'd,
Like that archangel, authoris'd by heav'n
Chief o'er celestial armies, when the fall'n
From purity and faith in Eden's bow'rs
Not to perdition nor despair he left
Abandon'd. Aristides still proceeds:
New victories invite you; Sparta long
Hath wanted succour; Men of Athens, march.
Lo! Menalippus greets in rapid haste
This more than hero. I am come, he said,
To bring thee tidings of Mardonius slain
In open fight. Pausanias still demands
Thy instant presence. In pursuit he reach'd
The stream. 'Not now that passage is forbid,'
Tisamenus exclaim'd. The gen'ral pass'd
In vain to force the well-defended camp;
Repuls'd in ev'ry part he dubious stands
With disappointment sore; on Attic skill
To mount entrenchments and a rampart storm
Laconians and Tegæans both depend
To crown the day. Th' Athenian heard, and cool
In four divisions separates the host.
Four thousand warriors, light and heavy-arm'd,
Each part compose; whose ensigns o'er the flood
In order just are carry'd. He attains
Th' adjacent field, and joins Pausanias there;
Whose ravell'd brow, and countenance of gloom
Present a lion's grimness, who, some fold,
Or stall attempting, thence by vollied stones
Of trooping shepherds, and of herdsmen, chas'd,
Hath sullenly retreated, though oppress'd
By famine dire. To Aristides spake
With haughtiness redoubled Sparta's chief:
Didst thou forget, Athenian, who commands
The Grecian armies? Thou hast loiter'd long
Since my two mandates. With majestic warmth
The righteous man: Pausanias, now receive
From Aristides language new, but just.
Thine is the pride of satraps, not the light
Ingenuous vanity of Greeks, from sense
Of freedom, sense of cultivated minds,
Above the rest of mortals. No; a black,
Barbaric humour festers at thy heart,
Portending usurpation. Know, proud man,
Thou hast been weigh'd, and long deficient found
By Aristides, thy superior far,
Then most superior, when for public good
Compliant most. Thou soon, O! Spartan born,
Yet in thy country's decency untaught,
Will like a Persian cast a loathing eye
On freedom, on Lycurgus and his laws,
Which gall a mind despotic. I presage
Thee dangerous, Pausanias. Where the seeds
Of dark ambition I suspect, my eye
Becomes a jealous centinel; beware,
Nor force my active vigilance to proof
Now or in future, when united Greece,
No more defensive, may retaliate war,
Successful war, which prompts aspiring thoughts.
Rest now a safe spectator. From defeat
Of real warriors, of our fellow Greeks,
Not Persians lightly arm'd in loose array,
The loiterers of Athens shall with ease
Surmount that fence impregnable to thee.
To wait an answer he disdain'd, but march'd;
While arrogance in secret gnash'd the teeth
Of this dark-minded Spartan, doom'd to prove
The boding words of Aristides true.
The sun, no longer vertical, began
His slant Hesperian progress. At the head
Of his own host Cecropia's chief began.
Enthusiastic flame, without whose aid
The soldier, patriot, and the bard is faint,
At this great crisis thus inspires the man
Of human race the most correct in mind:
Ye shades of all, who tyrants have expell'd,
Ye, who repose at Marathon entomb'd,
Ye glorious victims, who exalt the name
Of Salamis, and Manes of the brave
Leonidas, arise! Our banners fan
With your Elysian breath! Thou god supreme,
Jove elutherian, send thy child belov'd,
With her Gorgonian ægis, to defend
A people struggling not for spoil, or pow'r,
Not to extend dominion, but maintain
The right of nature, thy peculiar gift
To dignify mankind. I lift this prayer,
My citizens, in rev'rence, not in doubt
Of your success. Ye vanquishers of Greeks,
Beneath your spears yon servile herd will fall,
As corn before the sickle. With a look
Of circumspection he remark'd a swell
Of ground not fifty paces from the camp;
Olympiodorus and his bowmen there
He posted first. Now, Æschylus, he said,
Construct of solid shields a brazen roof;
In contact close to yonder fence of wood
Form like the tortoise in his massy shell.
The archers, each like Phoebus skill'd, remove
With show'rs of death the thick defendants soon
Clear from the rampart, which in height surpass'd
Two cubits. Æschylus not slow performs
His task. A rank of sixty warriors plac'd
Erect, with cov'ring bucklers o'er their heads,
A brazen platform to the wall unites.
The next in order stoop behind; the last
Kneel firm on earth. O'er implicated shields
A stable passage thus when Cimon sees,
He mounts, and fearless eyes the Asian camp.
Between the rampart's basis and the foe
An empty space observing, on the ground
His spear he fixes, and amidst a storm
Of clatt'ring javelins, arrows, darts and stones,
Swings down. So, shooting from the sulph'rous lap
Of some dark-vested cloud, a globe of fire
Through winds and rain precipitates a blaze
Terrific down the raven pall of night.
His whole division follows; with his band
Myronides, and Æschylus, releas'd
From his first care. Successively they range.
The very fence, by Persian toil uprais'd,
Now from the Persian multitude secures
Th' Athenian near. No obstacle remains
To Aristides, who compleats his plan.
Olympiodorus and his active train
With axes keen, and cleaving spades approach;
Hewn down, uptorn in that surmounted part,
The fall'n defences, and the levell'd ground,
Soon leave an op'ning wide. His strong reserve,
Eight thousand light, two thousand heavy-arm'd,
With Haliartus, and Oïleus' son,
Cecropia's chief leads forward to sustain
His first bold warriors. Chileus enters next
With his Tegæans, Aemnestus brave,
Pausanias, Amompharetus, the youth
Of Menalippus, all the Spartan host.
Seven Grecian myriads through the breach invade
A ground, with swarms of tents and men oppress'd.
Dire thus th' irruption of Germanic seas
Through strong Batavian mounds; th' inflated brine
Stupendous piles of long-resisting weight
Bears down, and, baffling strength and art combin'd,
Foams o'er a country in its seat profound
Below the surface of th' endang'ring main;
A country, where frugality and toil
No spot leave waste, no meadow, but in herds
Redundant; where the num'rous dwellings shew
Simplicity but plenty, now immers'd
With all their throng'd inhabitants beneath
Th' unsparing deluge. Aristides swift,
As if by gen'ral choice the chief supreme,
Commandment issues, that to either side
The host extend, that, skirted by the fence,
With wheeling flanks in front the line assume
A crescent's figure. Thus the fisher skill'd
With his capacious seines, slow-dragg'd and press'd
Close on each bank, a river's whole expanse
With all his natives glossy-finn'd involves.
Yet Mindarus, with Mede and Persian ranks,
A large remainder from the morning fight,
Resists, which soon are slaughter'd; he retreats
Among the tents, whose multitude impedes
The Grecians. Aristides straight commands,
That from the heavy line's disjointed length
A hundred bands expatiate in the chace
Of foes benumb'd by fear, who neither fight,
Nor fly, of means depriv'd. The carnage grows
In every quarter. Fountains seem unclos'd,
Whence rivulets of blood o'erflow the ground.
O'er satraps, potentates, and princes fall'n,
Strode Aristides first of men, of heav'n
The imitator in his civil deeds,
Now some faint semblance, far as mortal may
Of that Almighty victor on the field
Ethereal, when o'er helms, and helmed heads
Of prostrate seraphim, and powers o'erthrown,
He rode. Still Mindarus, by courage wing'd,
From nation flies to nation, still persists
Exhorting; though in hopeless thought he sees
Great Hyperanthes from the shades ascend,
And seems to hear the godlike phantom sigh
In mournful words like these: Ah! fruitless toil!
As once was mine, to rescue from despair
The panic fears of Asia! Dead in mind,
Her host already soon dead clay must lie,
Like me on Oeta's rock. Yet Midias brave,
With Tiridates rous'd, their efforts join.
Against them warlike Medon, and the seed
Of Lygdamis, chance brings. They side by side,
As heretofore Thermopylæ beheld
Young Dithyrambus and Diomedon,
Had all the day their unresisted wedge
Of Locrian shields and Delphian led to deeds,
Accumulating trophies. Midias falls
By Haliartus. From the slain his lance
Recov'ring, tow'rds his patron dear he turns;
Him conqu'ror too of Tiridates views
In joy; joy soon to sorrow chang'd! Fate guides
A casual weapon from a distant hand;
Such as at Ramoth from the Syrian bow,
Drawn at a venture, smote between the joints
Of harness strong the Israelitish king,
Who from the fight bade wheel his chariot, stain'd
With his own crimson. Ponderous and broad
The hostile lance inflicts a mortal wound
In Medon's gen'rous bosom. Not a sigh
He breathes, in look still placid and sedate,
While death's cold moisture stagnates on his limbs,
By all their pow'rs forsaken. Bear, he said
To Haliartus, bear me from the camp,
Nor yet extract the weapon; life, I feel,
Would follow swift, and Medon hath a charge
Yet to deliver. Some pathetic Muse,
In tend'rest measures give these numbers flow!
Let thine, who plaintive on the pontic verge
In servitude Sarmatian, through her page
Of sorrows weeps thy banishment from Rome;
Or thine, Euripides, whose moral strains
Melt sympathy in tears at human woes,
Thy vary'd tragic themes, or both unite
Your inspiration to describe a heart,
Where gratitude o'er all affections dear
Predominantly sway'd; the faithful heart
Of Haliartus at this sudden stroke
Of direful chance. To death is Medon snatch'd,
From glory snatch'd amid victorious friends.
The Carian's bosom instant feels combin'd
Achilles' anguish at Patroclus dead,
The pang of Priam at the fall of Troy,
Ev'n woman's grief, Andromache's distress
For her slain Hector, and his mother's pain
To see his mangled and dishonour'd corse.
Great Artemisia's name, th' illustrious blood
From Lygdamis deriv'd, his own exploits
Of recent fame, are all eras'd from thought
In Haliartus now; who sinks again
To Meliboeus. On the wounded chief,
As on his lord, his patron, still he looks
With all th' affection of a menial, bred
In the same home, and cherish'd in that home
With lib'ral kindness to his humbler state.
He clasps the fainting hero, on the shields
Of weeping friends deposits, and conveys
Swift through a portal, from its hinges forc'd.
Three hours remain'd to Phoebus in his course.
Close by the entrenchment, under beachen shade
Of ancient growth, a fountain bursts in rills
Transparent; thither on the down of moss
Was Medon borne and laid. Unloose, he said,
My helm, and fill from that refreshing stream.
Obey'd, he drank a part; then pouring down
The remnant, spake: By this libation clear
Be testified my thanks to all the gods,
That I have liv'd to see my country sav'd
On this victorious day. My fate requires
No lamentation, Haliartus dear,
Oh! more, than kindred, dear. Commend me first
To Aristides; Medon's parting breath
Him victor hails. To Delphi's virtuous priest,
To my Leonteus, to the glorious son
Of Neocles, my salutation bear,
To kind Cleander, my Troezenian host,
To Hyacinthus of Euboea's race,
The flower of all her chieftains: They have prov'd
In me some zeal their island to redeem.
Transport my ashes to Melissa's care,
Them near the reliques of Laconia's king
Repose; be mine the neighbour of his urn.
Here with an utmost effort of his voice,
With arms extended, and Elysian look:
Leonidas, the life thy friendship sav'd,
An off'ring to thy manes, now I close
Mature in age, to glory not unknown,
Above the wish, as destitute of hope
To find a fairer time, or better cause,
Than sends me now a messenger to greet
Thee with glad tidings of this land preserv'd.
With his own hand the javelin from his breast
He draws serene; life issues through the wound.
New shouts, new trumpets, waken from a trance
Of grief the son of Lygdamis. He sees
Cleander; who th' Asopian banks had pass'd,
Call'd by Sicinus from Saturnia's dome.
Lo! Epidaurian Clitophon, the ranks
Of Phlius with Menander, Sicyon's chief
Automedon, the Hermionean spears
With Lycus follow, Cephallene's sons,
The Acarnanian, all th' Epirot bands,
Leprean Conon, with Mycenæ's youth
Polydamas, by Arimnestus led
The brave Platæans, with his Thespian files
Alcimedon, Nearcus with his force
Of Chalcis, Potidæan Tydeus next,
Eretrian Cleon, Lampon, and the troop
Of little Styra, Corinth's banners last,
By Adimantus and Alcmæon rang'd.
Too late you come for glory, them bespake
The Carian sad: Lo! half the foes destroy'd
By Aristides, fugitives the rest;
Lo! there the only loss, which Greece sustains.
To him Cleander, with devout regret
O'er Medon, honour'd paranymph and guest,
His head inclining: Not too late we come
For sacrifice of Persians to the ghost
Of this dead hero. Ah! what floods of tears
Will fall in Troezen-But let grief prevail
Hereafter. Son of Lygdamis, renounce
Despondency; Acanthè still survives
To fire thy breast as Ariphilia mine;
I hear her prompting my vindictive arm.
From thy experience of this glorious day
Lead thy Troezenian host, where best to point
His strenuous efforts. Let thy guiding zeal
For me, long cursing my inactive post,
Yet find one track to fame. These gallant words
Of cordial frankness from dejection lift
The Carian brave, not less than Phoebus cheer'd
The languid son of Priam on the bank
Of Xanthus; when a stony mass, of weight
To stay a keel on Hellespontine sands,
By Ajax hurl'd, benumb'd the Trojan's frame.
Thus Haliartus: Through that open gate,
New forc'd, the shortest, safest passage lies;
But, to acquire some lustre, I can shew
Another track for prowess yet to shine.
He leads, all follow, save Corinthian bands
With Adimantus, hast'ning through the gate,
Soon as to him th' intelligence is brought;
Who ent'ring, sees a carnage which confounds
A timid spirit. By Alcmæon urg'd,
Close by the fence he marches; none he meets
But fly before him. Adimantus lifts
His spear, and satiates cowardice with blood
Of unresisting men. By cheap success
Betray'd, a distant quarter he attains,
Where Mindarus confronts him. From his steed
Th' unyielding satrap whirls a rapid lance,
Which nails the base Corinthian to the ground.
Alcmæon next is wounded; more had bled,
But Aristides o'er that part, devoid
Of tents, his dreadful crescent in array
Is forming new. The Persian starts; he flies
To one last angle of the spacious camp,
Sole spot unforc'd. Half circled now in front,
The Attic, Spartan, and Tegæan ranks,
In motion slow, yet moving on, augment
Progressively their terrors, like a range
Of clouds, which thicken on the brow of night,
A final wreck portending to a fleet,
Already shatter'd by the morning storm.
Round Mindarus the remnant of his host
Collected still is numerous. Them he sees
Oft look behind, a sight that ill accords
With warriors; but, as now in columns deep
Its glitt'ring horns that direful crescent shews
Within the limits of a javelin's cast,
All turn intent on flight at large; they break
Their own inclosure down, whose late defence
Is present bane, and intercepts escape.
Lo! Haliartus; all whose grief is chang'd
To fire, heroic flame. Three myriads fresh
He pours; that crouded angle he invests,
Preventing flight. Cleander looks around
Like some tornado menacing a bark,
Which soon unseam'd and parted sinks ingulph'd;
He finds a breach and with him enters death.
The long-enduring satrap, whose mild soul
Calamity hath worn, resembles now
The poor desponding sailor, who is left
Last of the found'ring vessel on a plank
Alone. No coast appears; the greedy swell
He sees around, expecting ev'ry wave
Will terminate his being, and forgoes
All hope of succour. His afflicted soul
Thus with an effort equal to his rank
The prince explores: What, Mindarus, remains
For thee deserted! In another's home
Cleora dwells; Masistius is no more;
Slain is Mardonius, Asia's glory fall'n;
Thou hast too long been fugitive this day;
Like Teribazus close a term of woe;
Like him in death be honour'd. He dismount,
He grasps a spear. Such dignity of shame
To Ilian Hector, from his flight recall'd,
Great Homer's Muse imparted. While the prince
Is meditating thus, a man sublime
Tow'rs from th' Athenians, who suspend their march;
Unlike the son of Peleus in his ire
Implacable, he represents a god
In aspect, god of mercy, not of arms.
Know, chieftain, he began, to me the Greeks
One Persian life have granted; it is thine.
In this day's trial I have noted well
Thy constancy and manhood; I, who prize
The gems of virtue, in whatever clime,
O Persian! whether in a friend or foe
Their never-changing lustre they display;
I, Aristides, my protecting arm
Extend. Time presses; yield thee, ere too late;
Captivity no burden shalt thou find,
Till safe, without a ransom, thou regain
Thy native seat. The Persian melts like snow
In all its rigour at the noon-ride sun.
This unforeseen, humane demeanour calms
His mind, and hushes ev'ry desp'rate thought.
He thus replies: On all my actions past
Hath fortune frown'd; perhaps a captive state
With Aristides, whom Masistius lov'd,
Mardonius prais'd, and all mankind reveres,
Forebodes a change of fortune to my gain!
Thy condescending wisdom, O supreme
In justice, knowledge, and benignant deeds,
May lift a man of sorrows from despair!
He yields. Th' Athenian leads him through the press
Secure; himself a spectacle avoids,
Which others covet. Lo! on ev'ry side
Keen swords of massacre are wav'd. To maids
Deflow'r'd, dishonour'd wives, and gods prophan'd,
To Athens, Thespia, and Platæa burnt,
The Greeks compleat their sacrifice. The sun,
Wont on those fields of glist'ning green to smile,
And trace Asopus through his crystal maze,
Now setting, glances over lakes of blood;
While fate with Persian carnage chafes the stream
No longer smooth and limpid, but o'erswoln,
And foaming purple, with encreasing heaps
Of carcases and arms. Night drops her shade
On thirty myriads slaughter'd. Thus thy death,
Leonidas of Sparta, was aveng'd,
Greece thus by Attic virtue was preserv'd.

FINIS