Reply is needless. See, the Sun descends.
The army halts. I trust thee with a charge,
Son of Megistias. In my name command
Th' attendant Helots to erect our camp.
We pitch our tents in Locris." Quick the youth
His charge accomplish'd. From a gen'rous meal,
Where, at the call of Alpheus, Locris shower'd
Her Amalthean plenty on her friends,
The fated warriors soon in slumber lose
The memory of toil. His watchful round
Dieneces with Menalippus takes.

The Moon rode high and clear. Her light benign
To their pleas'd eyes a rural dwelling show'd,
All unadorn'd, but seemly. Either side
Was fenc'd by trees high-shadowing. The front
Look'd on a crystal pool, by feather'd tribes
At ev'ry dawn frequented. From the springs
A small redundance fed a shallow brook,
O'er smoothest pebbles rippling just to wake,
Not startle Silence, and the ear of Night
Entice to listen undisturb'd. Around,
The grass was cover'd by reposing sheep,
Whose drowsy guard no longer bay'd the Moon.
The warriors stopp'd, contemplating the seat
Of rural quiet. Suddenly a swain

Steps forth. His fingers touch the breathing reed.
Uprise the fleecy train. Each faithful dog
Is rous'd. All heedful of the wonted sound
Their known conductor follow. Slow behind
Th' observing warriors move. Ere long they reach
A broad and verdant circle, thick enclos'd
With birches straight and tall, whose glossy rind
Is clad in silver from Diana's car.

The ground was holy, and the central spot
An altar bore to Pan. Beyond the orb
Of skreening trees th' external circuit swarm'd
With sheep and beeves, each neighb'ring hamlet's
wealth

Collected. Thither soon the swain arriv'd,
Whom, by the name of Melibœus hail'd,
A peasant throng surrounded. As their chief,
He nigh the altar to his rural friends
Address'd these words. "O sent from diff'rent lords
With contribution to the public wants,
Time presses. God of peasants, bless our course!
Speed to the slow-pac'd ox, for once impart !
That o'er these vallies, cool'd by dewy night,
We to our summons true, ere noontide blaze,
May join Oileus, and his praise obtain."

He ceas'd. To rustic madrigals and pipes,
Combin'd with bleating notes, and tinkling bells,
With clamour shrill from busy tongues of dogs,
Or hollow-sounding from the deep-mouth'd ox,
Along the valley herd and flock are driv'n
Successive, halting oft to harmless spoil
Of flow'rs and herbage, springing in their sight.
While Melibus marshall'd with address
The inoffensive host, unseen in shades
Dieneces applauded, and the youth
Of Menalippus caution'd. "Let no word
Impede the careful peasant. On his charge
Depends our welfare. Diligent and staid
He suits his godlike master. Thou wilt see
That righteous hero soon. Now sleep demands
Our debt to nature. On a carpet dry

Of moss beneath a wholesome beech they lay, Arm'd as they were. Their slumber short retires With night's last shadow. At their warning rous'd, The troops proceed. Th' admiring eye of youth In Menalippus caught the morning rays

To guide its travel o'er the landscape wide
Of cultivated hillocks, dales, and lawns,
Where mansions, hamlets interpos'd; where domes
Rose to their gods through consecrated shades.
He then exclaims. "O say, can Jove devote
These fields to ravage, those abodes to flames?"
The Spartan answers. Ravage, sword, and fire
Must be endur'd, as incidental ills.
Suffice it, these invaders, soon or late,
Will leave this soil more fertile by their blood
With spoils abundant to rebuild the fanes.
Precarious benefits are these, thou seest,
So fram'd by Heav'n; but virtue is a good,
No foe can spoil, and lasting to the grave."
Beside the public way an oval fount
Of marble sparkled with a silver spray
Of falling rills, collected from above.
The army halted, and their hollow casques
Dipp'd in the limpid stream. Behind it rose
An edifice, compos'd of native roots,
And oaken trunks of knotted girth unwrought.
Within were beds of moss. Old, batter'd arms
Hung from the roof. The curious chiefs approach.
These words, engraven on a tablet rude,
Megistias reads; the rest in silence hear.
"Yon marble fountain, by Oïleus plac'd,
To thirsty lips in living water flows;
For weary steps he fram'd this cool retreat;
A grateful off'ring here to rural peace,
His dinted shield, his helmet he resign'd.
O passenger, if born to noble deeds
Thou wouldst obtain perpetual grace from Jove,
Devote thy vigour to heroic toils,

And thy decline to hospitable cares.
Rest here; then seek Oileus in his vale."

"O Jove," burst forth Leonidas, "thy grace
Is large and various. Length of days and bliss
To him thou giv'st, to me a shorten'd term,
Nor yet less happy. Grateful we confess
Thy diff'rent bounties, measur'd full to both.
Come let us seek Oileus in his vale."

On either side

The word is giv'n. The heavy phalanx moves.
The light-pac'd Helots long, ere inorning dawn'd,
Had recommenc'd their progress. They o'ertook
Blithe Melibus in a spacious vale,
The fruitfullest in Locris, ere the Sun
Shot forth his noontide beams.
A surface scarce perceptibly ascends.
Luxuriant vegetation crowds the soil
With trees close-rang'd and mingling. Rich the loads
Of native fruitage to the sight reveal
Their vig'rous nurture. There the flushing peach,
The apple, citron, almond, pear, and date,
Pomegranates, purple mulberry, and fig,
From interlacing branches mix their hues
And scents, the passenger's delight; but leave
In the mid-vale a pasture long and large,
Exuberant in vivid verdure cropp'd

By herds, by flocks innum'rous. Neighb'ring knolls
Are speckled o'er with cots, whose humble roofs
To herdsmen, shepherds, and laborious hinds
Once yielded rest unbroken, till the name
Of Xerxes shook their quiet. Yet this day
Was festive. Swains and damsels, youth and age,
From toil, from home enlarg'd, disporting, fill'd
Th' enliven'd meadow. Under ev'ry shade
A hoary minstrel sat; the maidens danc'd;
Flocks bleated; oxen low'd; the horses neigh'd;
With joy the vale resounded; terrour fled;
Leonidas was nigh. The welcome news

By Melibaus, hast'ning to his lord,
Was loudly told. The Helots too appear'd.
While with his brother Alpheus thus discours'd.
"In this fair valley old Oïleus dwells,
The first of Locrians, of Laconia's state
The public host. Yon large pavilions mark.
They promise welcome.
Thither let us bend,
There tell our charge." This said, they both ad-

vance.

A hoary band receives them. One, who seem'd
In rank, in age superior, wav'd his hand
To Melibaus, standing near, and spake.

"By this my faithful messenger I learn,
That you are friends. Nor yet th' invader's foot
Hath pass'd our confines. Else, o'ercast by time,
My sight would scarce distinguish friend, or foe,
A Grecian, or Barbarian." Alpheus then.

"We come from Lacedæmon, of our king
Leonidas forerunners."-" Is he nigh?"
The cordial senior tenderly exclaims.
"I am Oileus. Him a beardless boy
I knew in Lacedæmon. Twenty years
Are since elaps'd. He scarce remembers me.
But I will feast him, as becomes my zeal,
Him and his army. You, my friends, repose."
They sit. He still discourses. " Spartan guests,
In me an aged soldier you behold.
From Ajax, fam'd in Agamemnon's war,
Oilean Ajax, flows my vital stream,
Unmix'd with his presumption. I have borue
The highest functions in the Locrian state,
Not with dishonour. Self-dismiss'd, my age
Hath in this valley on my own demesne
Liv'd tranquil, not recluse. My comrades these,
Old magistrates and warriors like myself,
Releas'd from public care, with me retir'd
To rural quiet. Through our last remains
Of time in sweet garrulity we slide,
Recounting pass'd achievements of our prime ; *
Nor wanting lib'ral means for lib'ral deeds,

Here bless'd, here blessing, we reside. These flocks,
These herds and pastures, these our num'rous hinds,
And poverty, hence exil'd, may divulge
Our generous abundance. We can spread
A banquet for an army. By the state
Once more entreated, we accept a charge,
To age well-suited. By our watchful care
The goddess Plenty in your tents shall dwell."
He scarce had finish'd, when the ensigns broad
Of Lacedæmon's phalanx down the vale
Were seen to wave, unfolding at the sound
Of flutes, soft-warbling in th' expressive mood
Of Dorian sweetness, unadorn'd. Around,
In notes of welcome ev'ry shepherd tun'd

"Thrice hail! Oileus, Sparta's noble host.
Thou art of old acquainted with her sons,
Their laws, their manners. Musical, as brave,
Train'd to delight in smooth Terpander's lay,
In Aleman's Dorian measure, we enjoy
In thy melodious vale th' unlabour'd strains
Of rural pipes, to nightingales attun'd.
Our heart-felt gladness deems the golden age
Subsisting, where thou governst. Still these tones
Of joy continu'd may thy dwellings hear!
Still may this plenty, unmolested, crown
The favour'd district! May thy rev'rend dust
Have peaceful shelter in thy father's tomb!
Kind Heav'n, that merit to my sword impart!"
By joy uplifted, forth Oileus broke.
"Thou dost recall me then! O sent to guard
These fruits from spoil, these hoary locks from
Permit thy weary'd soldiers to partake [shame,
Of Locrian plenty. Enter thou my tents,
Thon and thy captains. I salute them all."
The hero full of dignity and years,
Once bold in action, placed now in ease,
Ev'n by his look, benignly cast around,
Gives lassitude relief. With native grace,
With heart-effus'd complacency, the king
Accepts the lib'ral welcome; while his troops,
To relaxation and repast dismiss'd,

Pitch on the wounded green their bristling spears.
Still is the evening. Under chesnut shades
With interweaving poplars spacious stands
A well-fram'd tent. There calm the heroes sit,
The genial board enjoy, and feast the mind
On sage discourse; which thus Oileus clos'd.

"Behold, Night lifts her signal to invoke
That friendly god, who owns the drowsy wand.
To Mercury this last libation flows.
Farewell till morn." They separate, they sleep
All, but Oileus, who forsakes the tent.

On Melibus in these words he calls. [swain.
Approach my faithful friend." To him the
Thy bondman hears thy call." The chief replies
Loud for the gath'ring peasantry to heed.
"Come, Melibus, it is surely time,
That my repeated gift, the name of friend,
Thou shouldst accept. The name of bond man

wounds

Diversify'd with flowrets. Garlands gay,
Rush-woven baskets, glowing with the dies
Of amaranths, of jasmin, roses, pinks,
And violets they carry, tripping light
Before the steps of grimly-featur'd Mars
To blend the smiles of Flora with his frown.
Leonidas they chant in sylvan lays,

Him the defender of their meads and groves,
Him more than Pan a guardian to their flocks.
While Philomela, in her poplar shade
Awaken'd, strains her emulating throat,
And joins with liquid trills the swelling sounds.
Behold, Oileus and his ancient train
Accost Laconia's king, whose looks and words
Confess remembrance of the Locrian chief.

From jealousy and envy at the fame
Of younger men. Leonidas will dim
My former lustre, as that silver orb
Outshines the meanest star; and I rejoice.
O Melibus, these elect of Jove
To certain death advance. Immortal pow'rs!
How social, how endearing is their speech!
How flow in lib'ral cheerfulness their hearts!
To such a period verging men like these
Age well may envy, and that envy take
The genuine shape of virtue. Let their span
Of earthly being, while it lasts, contain
Each earthly joy. Till bless'd Elysium spread
Her ever-blooming, inexhausted'stores
To their glad sight, be mine the grateful task

Be to an old man's vanity benign.
This frowning emblem of terrific war
Proclains the ardour and exploits of youth.
This to Barbarian strangers, ent'ring Greece,
Shows what I was. The marble fount, thou saw'st,
Of living water, whose transparent flow
Reliev'd thy march in yester sultry Sun,
The cell, which offer'd rest on beds of moss,
Show what I am; to Grecian neighbours show
The hospitality of age. O Age,

Where are thy graces, but in lib'ral deeds,

In bland deportment? Would thy furrow'd cheeks
Lose the deformity of time? Let smiles

Dwell in thy wrinkles. Then, rever'd by youth,
Thy feeble steps will find"......Abruptly here
He paus'd. A manly warrior full in sight
Beside the trophy on his target lean'd,
Unknown to Sparta's leader, who address'd
His rev'rend host. "Thou pausest. Let me ask,
Whom do I see, resembling in his form
A demigod?" In transport then the sage.
"It is my son, discover'd by his shield,
Thy brave auxiliar, Medon. He sustains
My ancient honours in his native state;
Which kindly chose my offspring to replace
Their long-sequester'd chief. Heart-winning guest!
My life, a tide of joy, which never knew
A painful ebb, beyond its wonted mark
Flows in thy converse. Could a wish prevail,
My long and happy course should finish here."
The chariot rested. Medon now approach'd,
Saluting thus Leonidas.
"O king

Of warlike Sparta, Xerxes' host in sight
Begin to spread their multitude, and fill
The spacious Malian plain." The king replies.
"Accept, illustrious messenger, my thanks.
With such a brave assistant, as the son
Of great Oïleus, more assur'd I go

When calling slumber to a virtuous eye,
Watch o'er my venerable friend. Thy balm
He wants, exhausted by his love to me.
Sweet sleep, thou soft'nest that intruding pang,
Which gen'rous breasts, so parting, must admit."
He said, embark'd, relanded. To his side
Inviting Medon, he rejoin'd the host.

LEONIDAS. BOOK III.

THE ARGUMENT.

Leonidas arrives at Thermopylæ about noon on the fourth day after his departure from the isthmus. He is received by Demophilus, the commander of Thespia, and by Anaxander the Theban, treacherously recommending Epialtes, a Malan, who seeks by a pompous description of the Per sian power to intimidate the Grecian leaders, as they are viewing the enemy's camp from the top of mount Œta. He is answered by Dieneces and Diomedon. Xerxes sends Tygranes and Phraortes to the Grecian camp, who are dismissed by Leonidas, and conducted back by Dithyrambus and Diomedon; which last, incensed at the arrogance of Tygranes, treats him with contempt and menaces. This occasions a challenge to single combat between Diomedon and Tygranes, Dithyrambus and Phraortes. Epialtes, after a conference with Anaxander, declares his intention of returning to Xerxes. Leonidas dispatches Agis with Melibus, a faithful slave of Oileus, and high in the estimation of his lord, to view a body of Phocians, who had been posted at a distance from Thermopyle for the defence of another pass in mount Eta.

To face those numbers." With his godlike friend
The father, now dismounting from his car,
Embraces Medon. In a sliding bark
They all are wafted to the island fane,
Erected by Oileus, and enrich'd
With his engrav'd achievements.
Of Sparta's gen'ral, in extensive scope
Contemplates each battalion, as they wind
Along the pool; whose limpid face reflects
Their weapons, glist'ning in the early sun.
Them he to Pan armipotent commends,
His favour thus invoking. "God, whose pow'r
By rumour vain, or Echo's empty voice
Can sink the valiant in desponding fear,
Can disarray whole armies, smile on these,
Thy worshippers. Thy own Arcadians guard.
Through thee Oileus triumph'd. On his son,
On me look down. Our shields auxiliar join
Against profane Barbarians, who insult
The Grecian gods, and meditate the fall
Of this thy shrine." He said; and now, intent
To leave the island, on Oileus call'd.

"He," Medon answer'd, "by his joy and zeal
Too high transported, and discoursing long,
Felt on his drowsy lids a balny down
Of heaviness descending. He, unmark'd
Amid thy pious commerce with the god,
Was silently remov'd. The good old chief
On carpets, rais'd by tender, menial hands,
Calm in the secret sanctuary is laid."

His hast'ning step Leonidas restrains,

With Medon still conferring. "Hast thou beard,"
He said," among th' innumerable foes
What chiefs are most distinguish'd?"-" Might we

trust

To fame," reply'd the Locrian, "Xerxes boats
His ablest, bravest counsellor and chief
In Artemisia, Caria's matchless queen.
To old Darius benefits had bound
Her lord, herself to Xerxes. Not compell'd,
Except by magnanimity, she leads
The best-appointed squadron in h's fleet.
No female softness Artemisia knows,
But in maternal love. Her widow'd hand
With equity and firinness for her son
Administers the sway. Of Doric race
She still retains the spirit, which from Greece
Her ancestors transplanted. Other chiefs
Are all Barbarians, little known to fame,
Save one, whom Sparta hath herself supply'd,
Not less than Demaratus, once her king,
An exile now." Leonidas rejoins.

61

Son of Oileus, like thy father wise, Like him partake my confidence. Thy words Recall an era, sad'ning all my thoughts. That injur'd Spartan shar'd the regal sway

Unbless'd by Nature, favour'd by no god,
Cleomenes. Insanity of mind,
Malignant passions, impious acts deform'd
A life, concluded by his own fell hand.
Against his colleague envious he suborn'd
Leutychides. Him perjury and fraud
Plac'd on the seat, by Demaratus held
Unstain'd in lustre." Here Oïleus' son.
My future service only can repay

Thy confidential friendship. Let us close
The gloomy theme." Thermopyla is nigh.
Each face in transport glows. Now Eta rear'd
His tow'ring forehead. With impatient steps
On rush'd the phalanx, sounding pæans high;
As if the present deity of fame

Had from the sunimit shown her dazzling form,
With wreaths unfading on her temples bound,
Her adamantine trumpet in her hand
To celebrate their valour. From the van
Leonidas advances like the Sun,

When through dividing clouds his presence stays
Their sweeping rack, and stills the clam'rous wind.
The army silent halt. Their ensigns fan
The air no longer. Motionless their spears.
His eye reveals the ardour of his soul,
Which thus finds utt'rance from his eager lips.
"All hail! Thermopyla, and you, the pow'rs,
Presiding here. All hail! ye sylvan gods,
Ye fountain nymphs, who send your lucid rills
In broken murmurs down the rugged steep.
Receive us, O benignant, and support

[wind,

The cause of Greece. Conceal the secret paths,
Which o'er these crags, and through their forests
Untrod by human feet, and trac'd alone
By your immortal footsteps. O defend
Your own recesses, nor let impious war
Profane the solemn silence of your groves.
Then on your hills your praises shall you hear
From those, whose deeds shall tell th' approving
That not to undeservers did ye grant [world,
Your high protection. You, my valiant friends,
Now rouse the gen'rous spirit, which inflames
Your hearts; exert the vigour of your arms:
That in the bosoms of the brave and free.
Your memorable actions may survive;
May sound delightful in the ear of time,
Long, as blue Neptune beats the Malian strand,
Or those tall cliffs erect their shaggy tops
So near to Heav'n, your monuments of fame."
As in some torrid region, where the head
Of Ceres bends beneath her golden load;
If from a burning brand a scatter'd spark
Invade the parching ground; a sudden blaze
Sweeps o'er the crackling champaign: through his
Not with less swiftness to the furthest ranks [host
The words of great Leonidas diffus'd

A more than mortal fervour. Ev'ry heart
Distends with thoughts of glory, such as raise
The patriot's virtue, and the soldier's fire;
When danger most tremendous in his form
Seems in their sight most lovely. On their minds
Imagination pictures all the scenes

Of war, the purple field, the heaps of death,
The glitt'ring trophy, pil'd with Persian arms.
But lo! the Grecian leaders, who before
Were station'd near Thermopylæ, salute
Laconia's king. The Thespian chief, ally'd
To Dithyrambus, first the silence breaks,
An ancient warrior. From behind his casque,
Whose crested weight his aged temples bore,

The slender hairs, all-silver'd o'er by time, Flow'd venerable down. He thus began.

"Joy now shall crown the period of my days; And whether nigh my father's urn I sleep; Or, slain by Persia's sword, embrace the earth, Our common parent; be it, as the gods Shall best determine. For the present hour I bless their bounty, which hath giv'n my age To see the brave Leonidas, and bid That hero welcome on this glorious shore To fix the basis of the Grecian weal."

Here too the crafty Anaxander spake.
"Of all the Thebans we, rejoicing, hail
The king of Sparta. We obey'd his call.
O may oblivion o'er the shame of Thebes
A dark'ning veil extend! or those alone
By fame be curs'd, whose impious counsels turn
Their countrymen from virtue! Thebes was sunk,
Her glory bury'd in dishonest sloth.

To wake her languor gen'rous Alpheus came,
The messenger of freedom. O accept
Our grateful hearts; thou, Alpheus, art the cause,
That Anaxander from his native gates
Not single joins this host, nor tamely these,
My chosen friends, behind their walls remain.
Enough of words. Time presses. Mount, ye chiefs,
This loftiest part of Eta. This o'erlooks
The straits, and far beyond their northern mouth
Extends our sight across the Malian plain.
Behold a native, Epialtes call'd, [march'd."
Who with the foe from Thracia's bounds hath
Disguis'd in seeming worth, he ended here.
The camp not long had Epialtes reach'd,
By race a Malian. Eloquent his tongue,
His heart was false and abject.

He was skill'd

To grace perfidious counsels, and to clothe
In swelling phrase the baseness of his soul,
Foul nurse of treasons. To the tents of Greece,
Himself a Greek, a faithless spy he came.
Soon to the friends of Xerxes he repair'd,
The Theban chiefs, and nightly councils held,
How to betray the Spartans, or deject
By consternation. Up the arduous slope
With him each leader to the summit climbs.
Thence a tremendous prospect they command,
Where endless plains, by white pavilions hid,
Spread like the vast Atlantic, when no shore,
No rock, no promontory stops the sight
Unbounded, as it wanders; while the Moon,
Resplendent eye of Night, in fullest orb
Surveys th' interminate expanse, and throws
Her rays abroad to deck in snowy light
The dancing billows. Such was Xerxes' camp;
A pow'r unrivall'd by the mightiest king,
Or fiercest conqu'ror, whose blood-thirsty pride,
Dissolving all the sacred ties, which bind
The happiness of nations, bath upcall'd
The sleeping fury, Discord, from her den.
Not from the hundred brazen gates of Thebes,
The tow'rs of Memphis, and those pregnant fields,
Enrich'd by kindly Nile, such armies swarm'd
Around Sesostris; who with trophies fill'd
The vanquish'd east, who o'er the rapid foam
Of distant Tanais, o'er the surface broad
Of Ganges sent his formidable name.
Nor yet in Asia's far extended bounds.
E'er met such numbers, not when Ninus led
Th' Assyrian race to conquest. Not the gates
Of Babylon along Euphrates pour'd

Such myriads arm'd; when emptying all her streets,