Themistocles applies. A hundred guards
In burnish'd steel, and plumes like ridges new
Of winter's fleeces, not unmartial rank'd
Behind her wheels; the city's widest space
They reach. To all the people, swarming round,
In awful state the priestess thus began:

"Impiety and parricide, which spilt
In Juno's sight her servant Glaucè's blood,
Your god, by double homicide profan'd,
May well dismay Carystus. Lo! I come,
Afflicted city, in thy day of woe
Both to propitiate and conciliate Heav'n.
Learn first, no off'ring of a hundred bulls,
Not clouds of incense, nor exhausted stores
Of richest wine, can moderate his wrath,
Which visits children for the sire's offence,
And desolates whole nations for the crimes
Of kings and chiefs; unless by double zeal,
By violence of virtue, man disarm
The jealous thunderer. Happy is your lot;
The capital offender still survives;

On him inflicted vengeance by your hands,
Men of Carystus, will from Jove regain,
And multiply his blessings on yourselves,

Felt by the race of Pelops, and deserv'à ?
Thus wouldst thou waken patience in a breast,
Which feels affliction, far surpassing theirs,
Feels undeserv'd affliction? Whom, O Jove!
By errour, lust, or malice have I wrong'd?
Cut short my bloom-torment me here no more.
Let Rhadamanthus instantly decide,

If with Cleora I must taste of bliss,
Or with a father drink eternal woe.
Here for a murder'd wife my eyes to stream
Shall never cease; and-execrable sire!
Not grief, but all which furies can excite,
Rage, detestation, horrour, 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 shrieks 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,

young,

Swear all before the fresh-polluted shrine;
Ere you remove the carnage from that fane,
Unite your valour by a gen'ral oath,

That you will strengthen this Athenian's arm,
Whom I from Dian, in the awful name
Of all the gods and goddesses, adjure
To quell the monster Demonax, by Heav'n,
By Earth detested, parricide and scourge
Tyrannic o'er Euboea." At these words
She fix'd an arrow in her mighty bow;
Then rising, said; "Against an impious head
Incens'd Diana thus her war declares."

A cloud, low-hanging, instant by the force
Of springing wind a boreal course began
Tow'rds Oreus; thither bent Eudora's eye.
Swift from her sounding string through folds obscure
Of that thick vapour, as it fleets away,
The arrow imperceptibly descends

To earth. Fortuitous a sulph'rous spark
Flash'd from the cloud. "A prodigy!" exclaim'd
Themistocles; "the holy shaft is chang'd
To Jove's own bolt, and points the forked flame
On Demonax." "Swear, swear," the people shout;
A gen'ral exhortation rends the cope
Ethereal. Prompted by the subtle 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."
Unanimons consent is beard. Her car
She leaves. Before Briareus, in her words,
Sons, fathers, youth, and age, culist 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 Edipean horrours, or the pangs

Were criminal. He falt'ring spake: "Thou god Of Hyacinthus! passion thou dost awe;

Thy presence humbles frenzy and despair."

No, thy own manly fortitude alone

Shall chase despair and frenzy from thy breast,"
Serene Themistocles reply'd: "Arise,
Thou new-created archon; private cares
To interfere with public, neither men
Nor gods allow, nor justice, nor the sense
Of thy own wrongs. Young friend, the noble toil
Of mind and body in this righteous cause
Will give thee rank with heroes. Thou assist,
Nicanor; share the glory." By the hand
He led the passive youth. The people met
Their young, their honour'd magistrate in joy;
Eudora bless'd them; then in solemn zeal
The purifying rites perform'd, and left
Reviv'd Carystus. To her holy seat,
While on the way her goddess radiant shone,
Themistocles attended; then by dawn
Back to Eretria swiftly press'd his march.

Not Eolus, the king of winds, could still
Their gust, nor Neptune smooth his troubled waves,
Nor Jove the raging thunderbolt compose
More, than divine Themistocles bad tam'd
Oppression, terrour, anguish, and despair.
This had Geræstus 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 destitute had sat;
But by a hand beneficent uprais'd,
Ungirds the humble sackcloth from her loins,
Nor longer sprinkles ashes on her head,
Amid reviving plenty. Such the change
Among the Eretrians, through the copious aid
Sicinus lent, within Chalcidic walls
Still sedulous abiding. Ev'ry face
The gladd'ning touch of rosy-tinctur'd health
Illumines. Now from ruins clear'd, the streets
By stable feet of passengers are trod ;
Th' impending season's turbulence to foil,
Works, under Cleon's and Tisander's eye
Begun, the vig'rous populace, inspir'd

By their protector's presence, now pursue
With industry to match the beaver breed
Laborious and sagacious, who construct
By native art their mansions, to repel
Congealing air, and hoary drifts of snow
In Winter's harsh domains. From day to day
The toil continued. Early on a morn
A stranger came, in body all deform'd,
In look oblique, but keen; an eastern garb
Enwrapp'd his limbs distorted; from his tongue
Fell barb'rous accents. He address'd the chief
In Grecian phrase, which falter'd on his tongue:
"I am a Tyrian trafficker in slaves;
Returning home from Libya, have been forc'd
By dangerous winds to this Eubœan 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 Geræstian 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 furthest hence will best repay
The obligation. For a master choose
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 Eubœa lost,
Not as their native region, but the seat
Of pow'r and crimes triumphantly enjoy'd,
They weep, still criminal in tears. But soon,
When from the harbour distance had obscur'd
The well-row'd bark, the fetters from their limbs
The merchant orders, who, another tone,
Another mien assuming, thus began:

"Geræstian lords, redemption you derive
From Demonax of Oreus. Me the first
Among his council, Lamachus by name,
He sent to practice on the wily chief
Of Athens, wiles which undermine his own."
They land at Dium, thence to Oreus march;
Where Demonax admits them, as he sat
In secret council: "Your disasters known
Obtain'd our instant succour. What intends
Themistocles?" This answer is return'd.

"Not less, great prince, Themistocles intends
Than thy destruction. Of Eretrian blood
All who survive, Geræstus, Styra join
Against thy throne. Carystus from her walls
Will pour battalions, by Eudora fir'd.
The Amarynthian priestess hath declar'd
War in Diana's name. The lab'ring hind
Will quit the furrow; shepherds from their flocks,
Youths from their sport, the keeper from his herd
Will run to arms at her commanding voice,
So prevalent the sound." The tyrant turns
To Mindarus the Persian: "Let us march
Swift to destroy the serpent in his egg."

To him the Persian: "Demonax forgets,
That winter's rigour chills the soldier's blood.
Dost thou not hear the tempest, while it howls
Around us? Ev'n Mardonius active, bold,
Now rests in covert of Thessalian roofs,
Nor fights with nature. Shall my gen'ral hear
That I conduct the race of hottest climes
In freezing rain and whirlwinds to assail
A strong-wall'd town, protected by a chief

For valour, skill, and stratagem renown'd, With all th' unsparing elements his guard?" Again the tyrant: "Mindarus, confine

Thy Asiatics, till the roses bud;

While I, in howling storms, in damps, or frost
Will head my own Eubœcans." "Heav'n forbid !"
The wary Larnachus subjoins: "My lord,
Repose no trust without thy foreign bands
In these new subjects. Gods! th' alluring guile
Of that Athenian would dissolve thy ranks,
To his own hostile banner would seduce
Half thy battalions." Demonax again:

"Then policy with policy shall war.
Among th' Eretrians publish, from their hands
This virulent Athenian I require

Bound and deliver'd to my will; their wives,
Their children else, late captives of my sword,
Shall from their state of servitude be dragg'd
To bleed th' immediate victims of my wrath."

Then Mindarus: "Should great Mardonius hear,
That I such inhumanity permit,
He would exert his full monarchal pow'r,
My guilty limbs condemning to a cross."

In fury foaming, Demonax exclaims:
"I am betray'd. Thee, Mindarus, the son
Of that stern prince, who laid Eretria waste,
Thee, Xerxes, future sov'reign of the world,
Appointed my supporter; in this isle
That I, a branch from his imperial root,
Might grow a splendid vassal of his throne.
My cause, his service, now thy heart disowns,
Perverse thy sword abandons, Of my friends.
Thou best requited, most ingrate! preferr'd
Once to have been my son, of treasures vast
The destin'd heir, my successor in sway,
Dost thou desert me, and protect my foes?
But to Mardonius, to the mighty king,
I will accuse thee. By th' infernal pow'rs,
Themistocles hath gain'd thee; or thou fear'st
To face that captain on the field of war."

His breast the Persian striking, thus in tears:
"Dost thou recall thy parricide to wound
My inmost bosom? though anothor held
My dear Cleora by the holiest ties,

I would have struggled with despairing love;
But sink o'erwhelm'd by horrour of that deed,
Which, blasting such perfection, calls on Heav'n
For punishment unbounded. If thou fall'st,
It is the hand of Horomazes weighs
To earth a body overcharg'd with guilt.
Dost thou upbraid me, undeserving man,
Forgetting recent service? Who restor'd
Thy sceptre lost? What captain hath reduc'd
Orobia, Dium, half Eubœa's towns,
But Mindarus? He these achievements past
Regrets, but while appointed by his prince
Will urge his duty to accomplish new.
Then comes a 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 hyena from an eager chase
Of dogs and hunters, feels not more dismay,
Mix'd with a thirst insatiate of revenge,
Than shook the monster Demonax, who thus
To Lamachus: "Insulted and control'd
By an audacious stranger, do I rule

BOOK XV.
Now dimm'd by vapours, frequent in his track,
The twelfth division of his annual round

The Sun is ent'ring. Long hath vernal bloom,
Hath summer's prime, from thy descriptive lays,
O Muse! withdrawn; and now the aged year
Its last remains of beauty hath resign'd;
Transparent azure of autumnal skies

Is chang'd to mist, the air serene to storms.
But inspiration from th' imagin'd balm

Of spring, or summer's warmth, enrich'd by sweets
From flow'ry beds, and myrtles' fragrant bow'rs,
Thou dost not want; then bid thy numbers roll,
In cadence deep, to imitate the voice
Of boist'rous Winter in his mantle hoar.

All night by rude Hippotades the air
Tormented round the foaming harbour wheel'd;
Each mast was pliant to the raging gust,
The mooring cable groan'd. Long slept the son
Of Neocles, unvisited by care,

Till, as the hours attendant on the morn
Had just unclos'd the orient gate of day,
He starts. Acanthè, who controls 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 mere abortion. Chalcis must be gain'd
Best, Aristides, by the purest means,
But well by any." Swift his inner garb
Of softest wool thick-woven he assumes,
Of finer texture than 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 sluggish ice, transparency have lost; No flock is bleating on the rigid lawn, No rural pipe attunes th' inclement air; No youths and damsels trip the choral round Beneath bare oaks, whose frost-incrusted boughs Drop chilling shadows; icicles invest

The banks of rills, which, grating harsh in strife With winter's fetters, to their dreary sides No passenger invite. The cautious chief In sight of Chalcis to their homes dismiss'd The whole Eretrian number, but retain'd His hundred Attic and Laconian friends: He pass'd the gate before expiring day. Sicinus, staid forerunner, not unknown By residence in Chalcis, publish'd loud His lord's approach. The citizens in throngs Salute the celebrated man. His gates Timoxenus the archon throws abroad, And, true to hospitality, prepares For his distinguish'd, though unwelcome guest, Her lib'ral rites. Themistocles he leads To share a banquet in a sumptuous hall, Where stands divine Acanthè. Is there wife, Or maid, or widow'd matron, now in .cece, Who would not all her ornaments assume To welcome this known saviour of the Greeks Where'er he passes? As the queen of Heav'n In dazzling dress to match her goddess form, VOL. XVII.

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 o'ershadowing his forehead high,
Present a rival to the Phidian front
Of Jupiter at Pisa. With a look,
Which summon'd all his talents, all his mind
To view, he blends a sweetness, Nature's gift,
But heighten'd now by energy of wiles,
Alluring wiles, to melt the proudest fair.
In his approach he moves the genuine sire
Of all the Graces, on Acanthè's hand
To print his lips.. Invited by that hand,
Close to her lovely side of her alone
He sits observant, while the rich repast
Continu'd. Soon his vigilance perceiv'd,
That her unsated ear devour'd his words,
That from her lip an equal spell enthrall'd
Her doating father, who adoring view'd
Minerva in Acanthè. Now withdrawn
Was all attendance, when the daughter thus:
"O first of men, sole grace of each abode
Where thou art present, fortunate are those
Who saw thy actions, fortunate who hear
The bare narration; happier still those ears,
Which from thy mouth can treasure in the mind
A full impression of the glorious tale!
Forgive a woman, whom thy manners tempt
To sue-if yet thy gentleness should deem
Too curious, too importunate her suit,
Thy host Timoxenus at least indulge,
That o'er his festive hall th' achievements high,
Which Salamis and Artemisium saw,
Though now but whisper'd from thy gracious lips,
May sound hereafter loud." The wily chief,
Ne'er disinclin'd to celebrate his deeds,
Now to this lovely auditress, whose aid
His further fame requir'd, a tale began,
Where elegance of thought, and paint of words,
Embellish'd truth beyond her native guise,
In various lengthen'd texture of discourse,
A web of pleasing wonders to ensnare
The hearer's heart. Till midnight he pursues
A strain like magic to the list'ning fair;
Nor yet his thread to Salamis had reach'd,
Extended fine for many sweet repasts
To her inflam'd desire of hearing more.

Timoxenus at length to due repose
Imparts the signal; they disperse. Her guest
Delights Acanthè's pillow; but her sire
In care lies anxious, lest the season rude
Detain that guest, and fatal umbrage give
To Demonax terrific. Morn and eve
Return. Acanthè drinks the pleasing stream
Of eloquence exhaustless in its flow,
Whose draughts, repeated, but augment her thirst.
Now in description's animating gloss
The various scenes at Salamis exalt
The fair-one's mind. The Attic wives and maids
She emulates in wish, and sees in thought
Their beauteous ranks inspiring youth and age
To battle; now the tumult rude of Mars,
The crashing oars, the bloody-streaming decks
Chill her soft bosom; now that snowy scat
Of gen rous pity heaves; her azure eyes
Melt o'er Sandauce, in her years of bloom
Disconsolately widow'd, and transpierc'd

K

By death-like horrour at her children doom'd
To savage Bacchus. Here the artful man
Dwells on his own humanity, but hides
The stratagem, which policy, not dimm'd
By his compassion, on compassion built,
When to her freedom he restor'd the fair,
Who blameless help'd his artifice to drive
From Greece her royal brother. To the worth
Of Artamanes tribute just he pays.
His own reception by the Spartan state
He colours high, the public chariot giv'n,
The purple mantle, and the coursers proud,
Deriv'd from those, who won th' Olympian wreath
For Demaratus; but omits to speak,
How, while seducing vanity misled

His steps so far from Athens, she conferr'd
The naval guidance on Xanthippus brave,
And rule supreme on Aristides just.

Th' ensnaring story, to this period drawn,
While sev'n nocturnal rounds the planets ran,
Possesses all Acanthè, but disturbs
Her timid father, trembling at the pow'r
Of Demonax; yet fondness oft would smile
On her delight. The evening which succeeds,
Themistocles, in fiction mix'd with truth,
Not to Acanthè, but his host, began:

"Accompany'd from Sparta by the flow'r
Of her illustrious citizens I gain'd
Her borders, there indignant was appris'd,
That Demonax, whom heretofore I chas'd
From Oreus, now by Persian arms restor❜d,
Was trampling on Euboea. Vengeance fir'd
My spirit; fifty of the Spartan troop
At once became associates of my zeal,
With fifty nobles more of Attic blood.
My full stor❜d vessels at Eretria's port
From Sunium's cape arriv'd." He now unfolds
'The wondrous 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 borrour black Nicomachus, what joy
Reviv'd Eretria, and Geræstus 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 Eubœan youth and light-arm'd slaves
A multitude innum'rous on the plain.
His own exactions, and the Persian's boons,
O'erload his treasure. When the annual Sun
In his new course three monthly terms hath fill'd,
Expect Mardonius from Thessalia's bounds
On Greece to pour invasion. Ah! what help,
Should we exchange tranquillity for war,
From her own wants could Attica supply,
What Lacedæmon ?"-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 Eubœa, in this hour
Dreads thee, great archon? Murderer, who cut
His own Cleora's thread in early bloom,
He trembles now, Timoxenus, at thee,

O bless'd of parents, blessing such a child
As thy Acanthè; he thy vengeance dreads,
O paragon of fathers, dreads thy sword
Unsheath'd with mine. Presumption I disclaim,
Or want of def'rence to the wise like thee.
Accept this roll; contemplate there the force
Of Amarynthus, of Carystus large,
Geræstus, and Eretria; add the spears
Of Delphian Timon, of that hero fam'd,
Oilean Medon, who my signal watch
From Atalante's isle. Remote the time
For action; then deliberate. I wait
Without impatience thy resolves mature."

Retir'd, Acanthè, whose enlighten'd mind
Was bless'd with native talents, as her form
With beauty, strives awhile in reason's scale
To weigh th' importance of this high attempt
Propos'd; when something whispers, "Canst thou
Themistocles a moment? Can his sword [doubt
Do less than conquer? Where the pow'rful arm,
The valour, where the policy to vie
With him, whose faculties no man can reach,
No god raise higher?" These conceptions prove
A guide to fancy half the sleepless night
Through all th' enchanting scenery of thought,
Which recollection of his brilliant deeds,
His courage, might, humanity, and grace,
His gentle manners, and majestic frame,
Exhibits lovely, dazzling, and sublime,
To melt her softness, and her wisdom blind.
Envelop'd now by slumber, in a dream,
Which overleaps all measur'd time and space,
She sees the laurell'd hero, as return'd
From subjugated Oreus. On his spear
The gory head of Demonax he bears.
Her yet untainted purity of heart,
Which in sincerity of grief had mourn'd
Cleora's fate, applauds the just award
By Nemesis and Themis on the guilt
Of parricide. Her nobleness of soul
Enjoys the blessings which Eubœa reaps
From such a conquest; but no vision kind
Would interpose a warning to allay
Excess of transport at the conqueror'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. Acanthé here,
When magisterial duties from his home
Her father call'd, had entertain❜d the guest
By morn, and feasted all and every morn
On rich profusion of his Attic words.
The Sun was ris'n, and summon'd from her couch
To this accustom'd interview the fair.
Not meeting straight the object of her search,
As each preceding morn, she feels a pain
That he is absent. With a voice though low
His chamber sounds; to listen she disdains,
Back to her own by delicacy led.

In cautious tones Sicinus with his lord
Was thus discoursing: "In my wonted walk,
To watch events since thy arrival here,

I met Nearchus. Haste,' he said, 'apprise
Themistocles that long ere op'ning day