Of gems and gold; urbanity forbids To interrupt the silence of her grief; Sicinus, waiting nigh, he thus enjoins:

Thou, born a Persian, from a ghastly stage
Of massacre and terrour these transport
To thy own lord, Themistocles; the spoils
Are his, not mine. Could words of comfort heal
Calamity thus sudden and severe,

I would instruct thy tongue; but mute respect
Is all thy pow'r can give, or she receive.
Apprise the gen'ral that Psyttalia's coast
I will maintain with Medon, from the wrecks
To save our friends, our enemies destroy."
He then withdraws; Athenians he commands
Autarctus' body to remove from sight;
When her pavilion now Sandauce leaves,
Preceded by Sicinus. On the ground
She bends her aspect, not a tear she drops
To ease her swelling heart; by eunuchs led,
Her infants follow; while a troop of slaves,
With folded arms across their heaving breasts,
The sad procession close. To Medon here
Spake Artamanes: "O humane! permit
Me to attend this princess, and console
At least, companion of her woes, bewail
A royal woman from Darius sprung."

Him not a moment now his friend detains;
At this affecting season he defers
Inquiry more of Melibaeus, known
Safe in Nicæa; Persia's youth departs;
The mournful train for Salamis embark.

BOOK VI.

BRIGHT pow'r, whose presence wakens on the face
Of Nature all her beauties, gilds. the floods,
The crags and forests, vine-clad hills and fields,
Where Ceres, Pan, and Bacchus in thy beams
Rejoice; O Sun! thou o'er Athenian tow'rs,
The citadel and fanes in ruin huge,
Dost rising now illuminate a scene
More new, more wondrous, to thy piercing eye,
Than ever time disclos'd. Phaleron's wave
Presents three thousand barks in pendants rich;
Spectators, clust'ring like Hymettian bees,
Hang on the burden'd shrouds, the bending yards,
The reeling masts; the whole Cecropian strand,
Far as Eleusis, seat of mystic rites,

Is throng'd with millions, male and female race
Of Asia and of Libya, rank'd on foot,
On horses, camels, cars. Ægaleos tall,
Half down his long declivity where spreads
A mossy level, on a throne of gold
Displays the king environ'd by his court
In oriental pomp; the hill behind,
By warriors cover'd, like some trophy huge,
Ascends in varied arms and banners clad;
Below the monarch's feet th' immortal guard,
Line under line, erect their gaudy spears;
Th' arrangement, shelving downward to the beach,
Is edg'd by chosen horse. With blazing steel
Of Attic arms encircled, from the deep
Psyttalia lifts her surface to the sight,
Like Ariadne's heav'n-bespangling crown,
A wreath of stars; beyond, in dread array,
The Grecian fleet, four hundred gallies, fill
The Salaminian straits; barbarian prows
In two divisions point to either mouth

Six hundred brazen beaks of tow'r-like ships,
Unwieldy bulks; the gently-swelling soil
Of Salamis, rich island, bounds the view.
Along her silver-sanded verge array'd,
The men at arms exalt their naval spears
Of length terrific. All the tender sex,
Rank'd by Timothea, from a green ascent
Look down in beauteous order on their sires,
Their husbands, lovers, brothers, sons, prepar'd
To mount the rolling deck. The younger dames
In bridal robes are clad; the matrons sage
In solemn raiment, worn on sacred days;
But white in vesture like their maiden breasts,
Where Zephyr plays, uplifting with his breath
The loosely-waving folds, a chosen line
Of Attic graces in the front is plac'd;
From each fair head the tresses fall, entwin'd
With newly-gather'd flowrets; chaplets gay
The snowy hand sustains; the native curls,
O'ershading half, augment their pow'rful charms;
While Venus, temper'd by Minerva, fills
Their eyes with ardour, pointing ev'ry glance
To animate, not soften. From on high
Her large controlling orbs Timothea rolls,
Surpassing all in stature, not unlike
In majesty of shape the wife of Jove,
Presiding o'er the empyreal fair.
Below, her consort in resplendent arms
Stands near an altar; there the victim bleeds,
The entrails burn; the fervent priest invokes
The Eleutherian pow'rs. Sicinus comes,
Sandauce follows; and in sumptuous vests,
Like infant Castor and his brother fair,
Two boys; a girl like Helen, ere she threw
Delicious poison from her fatal eyes,

But tripp'd in blameless childhood o'er the meads
Of sweet Amyclæ, her maternal seat:

Nor less with beauty was Sandauce grac'd
Than Helen's mother, Leda, who enthrall'd
Th' Olympian god. A starting look the priest
Cast on the children; eager by the hand
Themistocles he grasp'd, and thus aloud:

"Accept this omen! At th' auspicious sight
Of these young captives, from the off'ring burst
Unwonted light; Fate's volume is unroll'd,
Where victory is written in their blood.
To Bacchus, styl'd Devourer, on this isle,
Amid surrounding gloom, a temple hoar
By time remains; to Bacchus I devote
These splendid victims; while his altar smokes,
With added force thy prow shall pierce the foe,
And conquest sit triumphant on thy mast."

So spake religious lips; the people heard,
Believing heard:-" To Bacchus, Bacchus give
The splendid victims!" hoarse acclaim resounds.
Myronides, Xanthippus, Cimon good,
Brave Eschylus, each leader is unmann'd
By horrour, save the cool, sagacious son
Of Neocles. The prophet he accosts:

"Wise, Euphrantides, are thy holy words!
To that propitious god these children bear;
Due time apply from each barbarian stain
To purify their limbs; attentive watch
The signal rais'd for onset; then employ
Thy pious knife to win the grace of Heav'n."

The chiefs amaz'd, the priest applauding look'd.

A young, a beauteous mother at this doom
Of her dear babes is present. Not her locks
She tore, nor beat in agony her breast,

Nor shriek'd in frenzy; frozen, mute, she stands,

Like Niobe just changing into stone,
Ere yet sad moisture had a passage found
To flow, the emblem of maternal grief:
At length the rigour of her tender limbs
Dissolving, Artamanes bears away

Her fainting burden while th' inhuman seer
To slaughter leads her infants. Ev'ry eye
On them is turn'd. Themistocles, unmark'd
By others, beck'ning draws Sicinus nigh,
In secret thus commission'd: "Choose a band
From my entrusted menials; swift o'ertake,
Like an assistant join this holy man;
Not dead, but living, shall these infant heads
Avail the Grecians. When the direful grove,
Impenetrably dark'ning, black with night,
That antiquated seat of horrid rites,
You reach, bid Euphrantides, in my name,
This impious, fruitless homicide forbear;
If he refuse, his savage zeal restrain

By force."-This said, his disencumber'd thoughts
For instant fight prepare; with matchless art
To rouse the tend'rest passions of the soul
In aid of duty, from the altar's height,
His voice persuasive, audible, and smooth,
To battle thus his countrymen inflames:

"Ye pious sons of Athens, on that slope
Behold your mothers! husbands, fathers, see
Your wives and race! before such objects dear,
Such precious lives defending, you must wield
The pond'rous naval spear; ye gallant youths,
Look on those lovely maids, your destin'd brides,
Who of their pride have disarray'd the meads
To bind your temples with triumphal wreaths;
Can you do less than conquer in their sight,
Or, conquer'd, perish? Women ne'er deserv'd
So much from men; yet what their present claim?
That by your prowess their maternal seat
They may revisit; that Cecropia's gates
May yield them entrance to their own abodes,
There meritorious to reside in peace.

Who cheerful, who magnanimous, those homes
To hostile flames, their tender limbs resign'd
To all the hardships of this crowded spot,
For preservation of the Attic name,
Laws, rites, and manners. Do your women ask
Too much, along their native streets to move
With grateful chaplets for Minerva's shrine,
To view th' august Acropolis again,
And in procession celebrate your deeds?
Ye men of Athens! shall those blooming buds
Of innocence and beauty, who disclose
Their snowy charms by chastity reserv'd
For your embraces, shall those spotless maids
Abide compulsion to barbarian beds?
Their Attic arts and talents be debas'd
In Persian bondage? Shall Cephissian banks,
Callirhoë's fountain, and Ilissus pure,
Shall sweet Hymettus never hear again
Their graceful step rebounding from the turf,
With you companions in the choral dance,
Enamour'd youths, who court their nuptial hands?"
A gen❜ral pæan intercepts his voice;
On ringing shields the spears in cadence beat;
While notes more soft, but, issued from such lips,
Far more inspiring, to the martial song
Unnumber'd daughters of Cecropia join.
Such interruption pleas'd the artful chief,
Who said no more. Descending, swift he caught
The favourable moment; he embark'd,
All ardent follow'd; on his deck conven'd,

Myronides, Xanthippus, Cimon bold, Aminias, Eschylus, be thus exhorts :

"My brave associates, publish o'er the fleet,
That I have won the Asian Greeks, whom force
Not choice against us ranges, to retain [blood."
Their weapons sheath'd, unting'd with kindred
Not less magnanimous, and more inflam'd,
Mardonius too ascends the stately deck
Of Ariabignes; there each leader, call'd
To hear the royal mandate, he address'd:
"Behold your king, enclos'd by watchful scribes,
Unfolding volumes like the rolls of Fate!
The brave, the fearful, character'd will stand
By name, by lineage there; his searching eye
Will note your actions, to dispense rewards
Of wealth and rank, or punishment and shame
Irrevocably doom. But see a spoil
Beyond the power of Xerxes to bestow,
By your own prowess singly to be won,
Those beauteous women; emblems they of Greece,
Show what a country you are come to share.
Can victory be doubtful in this cause?
Who can be slow when riches, honours, fame,
His sov'reign's smile, and beauty, are the prize?
Now lift the signal for immediate fight."

He spake applauded; in his rapid skiff
Was wafted back to Xerxes, who enthron'd
High on Ægaleos anxious sat to view
A scene which Nature never yet display'd,
Nor fancy feign'd. The theatre was Greece,
Mankind spectators; equal to that stage
Themistocles, great actor! by the pow'r
Of fiction present in his teeming soul,
Blends confidence with courage, on the Greeks
Imposing firm belief in heav'nly aid.

"I see, I see divine Eleusis shoot

A spiry flame auspicious tow'rds the fleet.
I see the bless'd Ecide; the ghosts
Of Telamon and Peleus, Ajax there,
There bright Achilles buoyant on the gale,
Stretch from Ægina their propitious hands.
I see a woman! It is Pallas! Hark!
She calls! How long, insensate men, your prows
Will you keep back, and victory suspend?"

He gives the signal. With impetuous heat
Of zeal and valour, urging sails and oars,
Th' Athenians dash the waters, which disturb'd,
Combine their murmur with unnumber'd shouts;
The gallies rush along like gliding clouds,
That utter hollow thunder as they sweep
A distant ridge of hills. The crowded lines
Of Xerxes' navy, in the straits confus'd,
Through their own weight and multitude ill steer'd,
Are pierc'd by diff'rent squadrons, which their chiefs,
Each with his tribe, to dreadful onset led.
Th' unerring skill of Pallas seem'd to form,
Then guide their just arrangement. None surpass'd
The effort bold of Eschylus; two ships
Of large construction, boast of naval Tyre,
His well-directed beak, o'erlaid with brass,
Transpierces; Attic Neptune whelms his floods
O'er either found'ring bulk. Three more, by flight
Wreck'd on Psyttalia, yield their victim crews
To Aristides; vigilant and dire

Against the ravager of Greece he stood,
Like that Hesperian dragon, wakeful guard
To Atlantéan fruit. Th' intrepid son

Of Neocles, disdaining meaner spoil
Than Asia's king-born admiral, with sails
Outspread to fresh'ning breezes, swiftly steer'd

By Ariabignes, crashing as he pass'd
The triple tire of oars; then grappling, pour'd
His fierce assailants on the splendid poop.
To this attack the gallant prince oppos'd
His royal person; three Athenians bleed
Beneath him; but Themistocles he meets.
Seed of Darius, Ariabignes falls

In Xerxes' view, by that unrivall'd chief
Whose arm, whose conduct, Destiny that day
Obey'd, while Fortune steady on her wheel
Look'd smiling down. The regal flag descends,
The democratic standard is uprear'd,
Where that proud name of Eleutheria shines
In characters of silver. Xerxes feels
A thrilling horrour, such as pierc'd the soul
Of pale Belshazzar, last on Ninus' throne,
When in the pleasures of his festive board
He saw the hand portentous on the wall
Of Babylon's high palace write his doom,
With great Assyria's downfall. Caria's queen
Not long continues in a distant post,
Where blood-stain'd billows on her active oars
Dash thick-adhering foam; tremendous sight
To Adimantus, who before her flies

With his dismay'd Corinthians! She suspends
Pursuit; her sov'reign's banner to redeem
Advances; furious in her passage sends
Two ships to perish in the green abyss
With all their numbers; this her sov'reign sees,
Exclaiming loud, "My women fight like men,
The men like women." Fruitless yet her skill,
Her courage vain; Themistocles was there;
Cilicians, Cyprians shunn'd his tow'ring flag
On Ariabignes' mast. The efforts joint
Of gallant Træzen and Ægina broke

Th' Egyptian line, whose chief-commanding deck
Presents a warrior to Cleander's eye,

A warrior bright in gold, for valour more
Conspicuous still than radiancy of arms.
Cleander him assails; now front to front,
Each on his grappled gunnel firm maintains
A fight still dubious, when their pointed beaks
Auxiliar Eschylus and Cimon strike
Deep in the hostile ship, whose found'ring weight,
Swift from her grapples loosen'd by the shock,
Th' affrighted master on Psyttalia drives
A prey to Medon. Then th' Egyptians fly,
Phoenicians, fam'd on oriental waves,
Resign the day. Mironides in chase,
Xanthippus, Cimon, bold Aminias gor'd
The shatter'd planks; the undefended decks
Ran purple. Boist'rous hurricanes, which sweep
In blasts unknown to European climes
The western world remote, had Nature call'd
Their furies hither, so with wrecks and dead
Had strewn the floods, disfigur'd thus the strands.
Behold Cleander from achievements high
Bears down with all Trozene's conqu'ring line
On Artemisia: yet she stops awhile,
In pious care to save the floating corse
Of Ariabignes; this perform'd, retreats;
With her last effort whelming, as she steer'd,
One Grecian more beneath devouring waves,
Retreats illustrious. So in trails of light
To Night's embrace departs the golden Sun,
Still in remembrance shining; none believe
His rays impair'd, none doubt his rise again
In wonted splendour to emblaze the sky.
Laconian Eurybiades engag'd
Secure of conquest; his division held

The eastern straits, where loose Pamphylians spread
A timid canvass, Hellespontine Greeks,
Ionians, Dorians, and Eolians rear'd
Unwilling standards. A Phoenician crew,

Cast on the strand, approach th' imperial throne,
Accusing these of treachery. By chance
A bold Ionian, active in the fight,

To Xerxes true, that moment in his ken
Bears down an Attic ship.-Aloud the king:

"Scribes, write the name of that Ionic chief,
His town, his lineage. Guards, surround these slaves,
Who, fugitive themselves, traduce the brave;
Cut off their heads:" the order is perform'd.
A favour'd lord, expressing in his look
A sign of pity, to partake their doom
The tyrant wild commands. Argestes' heart
Admits a secret joy at Persia's foil;

He trusts that, blind by fear, th' uncertain prince
To him his wonted favour would restore,
Would crush Mardonius, author of the war,
Beneath his royal vengeance; or that chief,
By adverse fate oppress'd, his sway resign.
But as the winds or thunders never shook
Deep-rooted Etna, nor the pregnant clouds
Discharg'd a flood extinguishing his fires,
Which inexhausted boil the surging mass
Of fumy sulphur; so this grim event
Shook not Mardonius, in whose bosom glow'd
His courage still unquench'd, despising Chance
With all her band of evils. In himself
Collected, on calamity he founds

A new, heroic structure in his mind,
A plan of glory forms to conquer Greece
By his own prowess, or by death atone
For his unprosp'rous counsels. Xerxes now,
Amid the wrecks and slaughter in his sight,
Distracted vents his disappointed pride:

"Have I not sever'd from the side of Thrace
Mount Athos? bridg'd the Hellespont? Go, fill
Yon sea; construct a causeway broad and firm;
As o'er a plain my army shall advance
To overwhelm th' Athenians in their isle."
He rises; back to Athens he repairs.
Sequester'd, languid, him Mardonius finds,
Deliv'ring bold this soldierly address:

"Be not discourag'd, sov'reign of the world!
Not oars, not sails and timber, can decide
Thy enterprise sublime. In shifting strife,
By winds and billows govern'd, may contend
The sons of traffic; on the solid plain
The gen'rous steed and soldier; they alone
Thy glory must establish, where no swell
Of fickle floods, nor breath of casual gales,
Assist the skilful coward, and control,
By Nature's wanton but resistless might,
The brave man's arm. Unaided by her hand,
Not one of these light mariners will face
Thy regal presence at the isthmian fence
To that small part of yet unconquer'd Greece
The land of Pelops. Seek the Spartans there ;
There let the slain Leonidas revive

With all his warriors whom thy pow'r destroy'd ;
A second time their gen'rous blood shall dye
The sword of Asia. Sons of those who tore
Th' Assyrian, Lydian sceptres from their kings,
Thy Medes and Persians, whose triumphant arms
From distant shores of Hellespont have tam'd
Such martial nations, have thy trophies rais'd
In Athens, bold aggressor; they shall plant
Before thy sight, ou fam'd Eurota's shore,