Before some rural palace wide expand Their venerable umbrage to retard

The North's impetuous wing. As o'er the main
In lucid rows the rising waves reflect
The Sun's effulgence; so the Grecian helms
Return'd his light, which o'er their convex pour'd
A splendour, scatter'd through the dancing plumes.
Down rush the foes. Exulting in their van,
Their haughty leader shakes his threat'ning lance,
Provoking battle. Instant from his rank
Diomedon bursts furious. On he strides,
Confronts Tigranes, whom he thus defies.

prove

Thy actions equal to thy vaunts, command
Thy troops to halt, while thou and I engage."
Tigranes, turning to the Persians, spake.

"My friends and soldiers, check your martial haste, While my strong lance that Grecian's pride confounds.

He ceas'd. In dreadful opposition soon Each combatant advanc'd. Their sinewy hands Grip'd fast their spears, high-brandish'd. Thrice they drove

With well-directed force the pointed steel

At either's throat, and thrice their wary shields
Repeil'd the menac'd wound. The Asian chief
At length, with pow'rs collected for the stroke,
His weapon rivets in the Grecian targe.
Aside Diomedon inclines, and shuns
Approaching fate; then all his martial skill
Undaunted summons. His forsaken spear
Beside him cast, his falchion he unsheaths.
The blade, descending on Tigranes' arm,
That instant struggling to redeem his fance,
The nervous hand dissevers. Pale affright
Unmans the Persian; while his active foe
Full on his neck discharg'd the rapid sword,
Which open'd wide the purple gates of death.
Low sinks Tigranes in eternal shade.

His prostrate limbs the conqueror bestrides;
Then in a tuft of blood-distilling hair

His hand entwining, from the mangled trunk
The head disjoins, and whirls with matchless strength
Among the adverse legions. All in dread
Recoil'd, where'er the ghastly visage flew
In sanguine circles, and pursu'd its track
Of horrour through the air. Not more amaz'd,
A barb'rous nation, whom the cheerful dawn
Of science ne'er illumin'd, view on high
A meteor, waving its portentous fires;
Where oft, as Superstition vainly dreams,
Some demon sits amid the baneful blaze,
Dispersing plague and desolation round.
Awhile the stern Diomedon remain'd
Triumphant o'er the dire dismay, which froze
The heart of Persia; then with haughty pace
In sullen joy among his gladsome friends
Resun'd his station. Still the hostile throng
In consternation motionless suspend

The charge. Their drooping hearts Phraortes warms.
Heav'n! can one leader's fate appal this host,
Which counts a train of princes for its chiefs?
Behold Phraortes. From Niphates' ridge
I draw my subject files. My hardy toil
Through pathless woods and deserts hath explor'd
The tiger's cavern. This unconquer'd hand
Hath from the lion rent his shaggy hide.
So through this field of slaughter will I chase
Yon vaunting Greek." His ardent words revive

Where'er they turn'd the formidable spears,
Which drench'd the glebe of Marathon in blood,
Barbarian dead lay heap'd. Diomedon

Led on the slaughter. From his nodding crest
The sable plumes shook terrour. Asia's host
Shrunk back as blasted by the piercing beams
Of that unconquerable sword, which fell
With lightning's swiftness on dissever'd helms,
And, menacing Tigranes' doom to all,
Their multitude dispers'd. The furious chief,
Encompass'd round by carnage, and besmear'd
With sanguine drops, inflames his warlike friends.
"O Dithyrambus, let thy deeds this day
Surmount their wonted lustre. Thou in arms,
Demophilus, worn grey, thy youth recall.
Behold, these slaves without resistance bleed.
Advance, my hoary friend. Propitious fame
Smiles on thy years. She grants thy aged hand
To pluck fresh laurels for thy honour'd brow."
As, when endu'd with Promethean heat,
The molten clay respir'd; a sudden warmth
Glows in the venerable Thespian's veins;
In ev'ry sinew new-born vigour swells.
His falchion, thund'ring on Cherasmes' helm,
The forehead cleaves. Ecbatana to war
Sent forth Cherasmes. From her potent gates
He proud in hope her swarming numbers led.
Him Ariazus and Peucestes join'd,

His martial brothers. They attend his fate,
By Dithyrambus pierc'd. Their hoary sire
Shall o'er his solitary palace roam ;
Lamenting loud his childless years, shall curse
Ambition's fury, and the lust of war,
Then, pining, bow in anguish to the grave.

Next by the fierce Plataan's fatal sword
Expir'd Damates, once the host and friend
Of fall'n Tigranes. By his side to fight
He left his native bands. Of Syrian birth
In Daphné he resided near the grove,
Whose hospitable laurels in their shade
Conceal'd the virgin fugitive averse
To young Apollo. Hither she retir'd
Far from her parent stream.
Herself a laurel, chang'd her golden hair
To verdant leaves in this retreat, the grove
Of Daphné call'd, the seat of rural bliss,
Fann'd by the breath of Zephyrs, and with rills
From bubbling founts irriguous, Syria's boast,
The happy rival of Thessalia's vale,
Now hid for ever from Damates' eyes.

Here fables feign,

Demophilus, wise leader, soon improves Advantage. All the vet'rans of his troop, In age his equals, to condense the files, To rivet close their bucklers he commands. As some broad vessel, heavy in her strength, But well-compacted, when a fav'ring gale Invites the skilful master to expand

The sails at large, her slow but steady course
Impels through myriads of dividing waves;
So, unresisted, through barbarian througs
The hoary phalanx pass'd. Arcadia's sons
Pursu'd more swift. Gigantic Clonius press'd
The yielding Persians, who before him sunk,
Crush'd like vile stubble underneath the steps
Of some glad peasant, visiting his fields
Of new-shorn harvest. On the gen'ral rout
Phraortes look'd intrepid still. He sprang
O'er hills of carnage to confront the foe.
His own inglorious friends he thus reproach'd.

Fly then, ye cowards, and desert your chief. Yet single here my target shall oppose The shock of thousands." Raging, he impels His deathful point through Aristander's breast. Him Dithyrambus lov'd. A sacred bard, Rever'd for justice, for his verse renown'd, He sung the deeds of heroes, those who fell, Or those who conquer'd in their country's cause, Th' enraptur'd soul inspiring with the love Of glory, earn'd by virtue. His high strain The Muses favour'd from their neighb'ring bow'rs, And bless'd with heav'nly melody his lyre. No more from Thespia shall his feet ascend The shady steep of Helicon; no more The stream divine of Aganippe's fount Bedew his lip harmonious: nor his hands, Which, dying, grasp the unforsaken lance, And prostrate buckler, ever more accord His lofty numbers to the sounding shell. Lo! Dithyrambus weeps. Amid the rage Of war and conquest swiftly-gushing tears Find one sad moment's interval to fall On his pale friend. His stern revenge.

plung'd,

But soon the victor proves
Through shield and corselet

His forceful blade divides the Persian's chest ;
Whence issue streams of royal blood, deriv'd
From ancestors, who sway'd in Ninus old
Th' Assyrian sceptre. He, to Xerxes' throne
A tributary satrap, rul'd the vales,
Where Tigris swift between the parted hills
Of tall Niphates drew his foamy tide,
Impregnating the meads. Phraortes sinks,
Not instantly expiring. Still his eyes
Flash indignation, while the Persians fly.

Beyond the Malian entrance of the straits
Th' Arcadians rush; when, unperceiv'd till felt,
Spring from concealment in a thicket deep
New swarms of warriors, clustring on the flank
Of these unwary Grecians. Tow'rds the bay
They shrink. They totter on the fearful edge,
Which overhangs a precipice. Surpris'd,
The strength of Clonius fails. His giant bulk
Beneath the chieftain of th' assailing band
Falls prostrate. Thespians and Plateans wave
Auxiliar ensigns. They encounter foes,
Resembling Greeks in discipline and arms.
Dire is the shock. What less, than Caria's queen
In their career of victory could check
Such warriors? Fierce she struggles; while the rout
Of Medes and Cissians carry to the camp
Contagious terrour: thence no succour flows.
Demophilus stands firm; the Carian band
At length recoil before him. Keen pursuit
He leaves to other, like th' almighty Sire,
Who sits unshaken on his throne, while floods,
His instruments of wrath, o'erwhelm the Earth,
And whirlwinds level on her hills the growth

Of proudest cedars. Through the yielding crowd
Platæa's chief and Dithyrambus range
Triumphant side by side. Thus o'er the field,
Where bright Alpheus heard the rattling car
And concave hoof along his echoing banks,
Two gen'rous coursers, link'd in mutual reins,
In speed, in ardour equal, beat the dust
To reach the glories of Olympia's goal.
Th' intrepid heroes on the plain advance,
They press the Carian rear. Not long the queen
Endures that shame. Her people's dying groans
Transpierce her bosom. On their bleeding limbs
She looks maternal, feels maternal pangs.
A troop she rallies. Goddess-like she turns,
Not less than Pallas with her Gorgon shield.
Whole ranks she covers like th' imperial bird
Extending o'er a nest of callow young

Her pinion broad, and pointing fierce her beak,
Her claws outstretch'd. The Thespian's ardent hand,
From common lives refraining, hastes to snatch
More splendid laurels from that nobler bead.
His pond'rous falchion, swift descending, bears
Her buckler down, thence glancing, cuts the thong,
Which holds her headpiece fast. That golden fence
Drops down. Thick tresses, unconfin'd, disclose
A female warrior; one, whose summer pride
Of fleeting beauty had begun to fade,
Yet by th' heroic character supply'd,
Which grew more awful, as the touch of time
Remov'd the soft'ning graces. Back he steps,
Unmann'd by wonder. With indignaut eyes,
Fire-darting, she advances. Both her hands
Full on his crest discharge the furious blade.
The forceful blow compels him to recede
Yet further back, unwounded, though confus'd.
His soldiers flock around him. From a scene'
Of blood more distant speeds Platæa's chief.
The fair occasion of suspended fight
She seizes, bright in glory wheels away,

And saves her Carian remnant. While his friend
In fervent sounds Diomedon bespake.

"If thou art slain, I curse this glorious day. Be all thy trophies, be my own accurs'd."

The youth, recover'd, answers in a smile.
"I am unhurt. The weighty blow proclaim'd
The queen of Caria, or Bellona's arm.
Our longer stay Demophilus may blame.`
Let us prevent his call." This said, their steps
They turn, both striding through empurpled heaps
Of arms, and mangled slain, themselves with gore
Distain'd like two grim tigers, who have forc'd
A nightly mansion, on the desert ra's'd
By some lone-wand'ring traveller, then, dy'd
In human crimson, through the forest deep
Back to their covert's dreary gloom retire.

Stern Artemisia, sweeping o'er the field,
Bursts into Asia's camp. A furious look
She casts around. Abrocomes remote
With Hyperanthes from the king were sent.
She sees Argestes in that quarter chief,
Who from battalions numberless had spar'd
Not one to succour, but his malice gorg'd
With her distress. Her anger now augments.
Revenge frowns gloomy on her darken'd brow.
He cautious moves to Xerxes, where he sat
High on his car. She follows. Lost her helm,
Resign'd to sportive winds her cluster'd locks,
Wild, but majestic like the waving boughs
Of some proud elm, the glory of the grove,
And full in foliage. Her emblazon'd shield

With gore is tarnish'd. Pale around are seen
All faint, all ghastly from repeated wounds
Her bleeding soldiers. Brandishing her sword,
To them she points, to Xerxes thus she speaks.
"Behold these mangled Carians, who have spent
Their vital current in the king's defence,
Ev'n in his sight; while Medes and Cissians fled,
By these protected, whom Argestes saw
Pursu'd by slaughter to thy very camp,
Yet left unhelp'd to perish. Ruling sire,
Let Horomazes be thy name, or Jove,
To thee appealing, of the king I claim
A day for justice. Monarch, to my arm
Give him a prey. Let Artemisia's truth
Chastise his treason." With an eye submiss,
A mein obsequious, and a soothing tone
To cheat the king, to moderate her ire
Argestes utters these fallacious words.

May Horomazes leave the fiend at large
To blast my earthly happiness, confine
Amid the horrours of his own abode
My ghost hereafter, if the sacred charge
Of Xerxes' person was not my restraint,
My sole restraint! To him our all is due,
Our all how trifling with his safety weigh'd!
His preservation I prefer to fame,
And bright occasion for immortal deeds
Forego in duty. Else my helpful sword,
Fair heroine of Asia, hadst thou seen
Among the foremost blazing. Lo! the king
A royal present will on thee bestow,
Perfumes and precious unguents on the dead,
A golden wreath to each survivor brave."

Aw'd by her spirit, by the flatt'rers spell
Deluded, languid through dismay and shame
At his defeat, the monarch for a time

Sat mute, at length unlock'd his falt'ring lips.
"Thou hear'st, great princess. Rest content.
I ratify. Yet further, I proclaim [His words
Thee of my train first counsellor and chief."

"O eagle-ey'd discernment in the king! O wisdom equal to his boundless power!" The purpled sycophant exclaims. "Thou seest Her matchless talents. Wanting her, thy fleet, The floating bulwark of our hopes, laments, Foil'd in her absence, in her conduct safe. Thy penetrating sight directs the field; There let her worth be hazarded no more.” "Thy words are wise," the blinded rejoins.

prince

"Return, brave Carian, to thy naval charge."
Thus to remove her from the royal ear
Malicious guile prevails. Redoubled rage
Swells in her bosom. Demaratus sees,
And calms the storm by rend'ring up his charge
To her maternal hand. Her son belov'd
Dispels the furies. Then the Spartan thus.

"O Artemisia, of the king's command
Be thou observant. To thy slaughter'd friends
Immediate care, far other than revenge,
Is due. The ravens gather. From his nest
Among those clifts the eagle's rapid flight
Denotes his scent of carnage. Thou, a Greek,
Well know'st the duty sacred to the dead.
Depart; thy guide is piety. Collect,
For honourable sepulchres prepare
Those bodies, mark'd with honourable wounds.
I will assist thee. Xerxes will entrust

To my command a chosen guard of horse."

As oft, when storms in summer have o'ercast

The night with double darkness, only pierc'd
By Heav'n's blue fire, while thunder shakes the pole, ·
The orient Sun, diffusing genial warmth,
Refines the troubled air; the blast is mute;
Death-pointed flames disperse; and placid Jove
Looks down in smiles: so prudence from the lips
Of Demaratus, by his tone, his mien,

His aspect strength'ning smooth persuasion's flow,
Compos'd her spirit. She with him departs.
The king assigns a thousand horse to guard
Th' illustrious exile and heroic dame.

LEONIDAS. BOOK VI.

THE ARGUMENT.

The Grecian commanders after the pursuit retire for refreshment to a cave in the side of mount Eta. Demophilus returns to the camp; Diomedon remains in the cave: while Dithyrambus, discovering a passage through it, ascends to the temple of the Muses. After a long discourse with Melissa, the daughter of Oileus, she entrusts him with a solemn message to Leonidas. Dithyrambus deputes this charge to Megistias, the augur. Leonidas, recalling the forces first engaged, sends down a fresh body. Diomedon and Dithyrambus are permitted on their own request to continue in the field with the Plateans. By the advice of Diomedon the Grecians advance to the broadest part of Thermopyla, where they form a line of twenty in depth, consisting of the Plateans, Mantineans, Tegæans, Thebans, Corinthians, Phliasians, and Mycenæans. The Spartans compose a second line in a narrower part. Behind them are placed the light armed troops under Alpheus, and further back a phalanx of Locrians under Medon, the son of Oïleus. Dieneces commands the whole.

Now Dithyrambus and Platea's chief,
Their former post attaining, had rejoin'd
Demophilus. Recumbent on his shield
Phraortes, gasping there, attracts their sight.
To him in pity Thespia's gallant youth
Approaching, thus his gen'rous soul express'd.
"Liv'st thou, brave Persian? By propitious Jove,
From whom the pleasing stream of mercy flows
Through mortal bosoms, less my soul rejoic'd,
When fortune bless'd with victory my arm,
Than now to raise thee from this field of death."
His languid eyes the dying prince unclos'd,
Then with expiring voice. "Vain man, forbear
To proffer ine, what soon thyself must crave.
The day is quite extinguish'd in these orbs.
One moment fate allows me to disdain
Thy mercy, Grecian. Now I yield to death."
This effort made, the haughty spirit fled.
So shoots a meteor's transitory gleam
Through nitrous folds of black nocturnal clouds,
Then dissipates for ever. O'er the corse

His rev'rend face Demophilus inclin'd,
Pois'd on his lance, and thus address'd the slain.

"Alas! how glorious were that bleeding breast,
Had Justice brac'd the buckler on thy arm,
And to preserve a people bade thee die.
Who now shall mourn thee? Thy ungrateful king
Will soon forget thy worth. Thy native land
May raise an empty monument, but feel
No public sorrow. Thy recorded name
Shall wake among thy countrymen no sighs
For their lost hero. What to them avail'd
Thy might, thy dauntless spirit? Not to guard
Their wives, their offspring from th' oppressor's
But to extend oppression didst thou fall,[hand;
Perhaps with inboru virtues in thy soul,
Which, but thy froward destiny forbade,
By freedom cherish'd, might have bless'd mankind.
All-bounteous Nature, thy impartial laws
To no selected race of men confine
The sense of glory, fortitude, and all
The nobler passions, which exalt the mind,
And render life illustrious. These thou plant'st
In ev'ry soil. But freedom, like the Sun,
Must warm the gen'rous seeds. By her alone
They bloom, they flourish; while oppression blast
The tender virtues: hence a spurious growth,
False honour, savage valour taint the soul,
And wild ambition: hence rapacious pow'r
The ravag'd Earth unpeoples, and the brave,
A feast for dogs, th' ensanguin'd field bestrew."
He said. Around the venerable man
The warriors throng'd attentive. Conquest hush'd
Its joyful transports. O'er the horrid field,
Rude scene so late of tumult, all was calm.
So, when the song of Thracian Orpheus drew
To Hebrus' margin from their dreary seats
The savage breed, which Hamus, wrapp'd in clouds,
Pangaus cold, and Rhodopean snows

In blood and discord nurs'd, the soothing strain
Flow'd with enchantment through the ravish'd ear,
Their fierceness melted, and, amaz'd, they learn'd
The sacred laws of justice, which the bard
Mix'd with the music of his heav'nly string.

Meantime th' Arcadians with inverted arms
And banners, sad and solemn on their shields
The giant limbs of Clonius bore along
To spread a gen'ral woe. The noble corse,
Dire spectacle of carnage, passing by
To those last honours, which the dead partake,
Struck Dithyrambus. Swift his melted eye
Review'd Phraortes on the rock supine;
Then on the sage Demophilus he look'd
Intent, and spake. "My heart retains thy words.
This hour may witness, how rapacious pow'r
The Earth unpeoples. Clonius is no more.
But he, by Greece lamented, will acquire
A signal tomb. This gallant Persian, crush'd
Beneath my fortune, bath'd in blood still warm,
May lie forgotten by his thankless king;
Yet not by me neglected shall remain
A naked corse." The good old man replies.
"My gen'rous child, deserving that success
Thy arm hath gain'd! When vital breath is fled,
Our friends, our foes are equal dust. Both claim
The fun'ral passage to that future seat
Of being, where no enmity revives.
There Greek and Persian will together quaff
In amaranthine bow'rs the cup of bliss
Immortal. Him, thy valour slew on Earth,
In that bless'd region thou mayst find a friend."
This said, the ready Thespians he commands
To lift Phraortes from his bed of death,
VOL. XVII

Th' empurpled rock. Outstretch'd on targets broad,
Sustain'd by hands late hostile, now humane,
He follows Clonius to the fun'ral pyre.

A cave not distant from the Phocian wall
Through Eta's cloven side had Nature form'd
In spacious windings. This in moss she clad;
O'er half the entrance downward from the roots
She hung the shaggy trunks of branching firs,
To Heav'n's hot ray impervious. Near the mouth
Relucent laurels spread before the Sun
A broad and vivid foliage. High above,
The hill was darken'd by a solemn shade,
Diffus'd from ancient cedars. To this cave
Diomedon, Demophilus resort,

And Thespia's youth. A deep recess appears,
Cool as the azure grot where Thetis sleeps
Beneath the vaulted ocean. Whisper'd sounds
Of waters, trilling from the riven stone
To feed a fountain on the rocky floor,
In purest streams o'erflowing to the sea,
Allure the warriors, hot with toil and thirst,
To this retreat serene. Against the sides
Their disencumber'd hands repose their shields;
The helms they loosen from their glowing cheeks;
Propp'd on their spears they rest: when Agis brings
From Lacedæmon's leader these commands.

"Leonidas recalls you from your toils,
Ye meritorious Grecians. You have reap'd
The first bright harvest on the field of fame.
Our eyes in wonder from the Phocian wall
On your unequall'd deeds incessant gaz'd."

To whom Platæa's chief. "Go, Agis, say
To Lacedæmon's ruler, that, untir'd,
Diomedon can yet exalt his spear,
Nor feels the armour heavy on his limbs.
Then shall I quit the contest? Ere he sinks,
Shall not this early Sun again behold
The slaves of Xerxes tremble at my lance,
Should they adventure on a fresh assault?"
To him the Thespian youth. "My friend, my
guide

To noble actions, since thy gen'rous heart
Intent on fame disdains to rest, O grant,
I too thy glorious labours may partake,
May learn once more to imitate thy deeds.
Thou, gentlest Agis, Sparta's king entreat
Not to command us from the field of war."
"Yes, persevering heroes," he reply'd,
"I will return, will Sparta's king entreat
Not to command you from the field of war."

Then interpos'd Demophilus. "O friend,
Who leadst to conquest brave Platea's sons;
Thou too, lov'd offspring of the dearest man,
Who dost restore a brother to my eyes;
My soul your magnanimity applauds :
But, O reflect, that unabating toil
Subdues the mightiest. Valour will repine,
When the weak hand obeys the heart no more.
Yet I, declining through the weight of years,
Will not assign a measure to your strength.
If still you find your vigour undecay'd,
Stay and augment your glory. So, when time
Casts from your whiten'd heads the helm aside;
When in the temples your enfeebled arms
Have hung their consecrated shields, the land
Which gave you life, in her defence employ'd,
Shall then by honours, doubled on your age,
Requite the gen'rous labours of your prime.'

So spake the senior, and forsook the cave. But from the fount Diomedon receives

E

Th' o'erflowing waters in his concave helm,
Addressing thus the genius of the stream.
"Whoe'er thou art, divinity unstain'd
Of this fair fountain, till unsparing Mars

Pervading, rives the surface to enlarge

The long-imprison'd flame. Ascending soon,
He sees, he stands abash'd, then rev'rent kneels.
An aged temple with insculptur'd forms

streams

To me, who ill repay thee. I again
Thy silver-gleaming current must pollute, [slime."
Which, mix'd with gore, shall tinge the Malian
He said, and lifted in his brimming casque
The bright, refreshing moisture. Thus repairs
The spotted panther to Hydaspes' side,
Or eastern Indus, feasted on the blood
Of some torn deer, which nigh his cruel grasp
Had roam'd, unheeding, in the secret shade;
Rapacious o'er the humid brink he stoops,
And in the pure and fluid crystal cools
His reeking jaws. Meantime the Thespian's eye
Roves round the vaulted space; when sudden
Of music, utter'd by melodious harps, [sounds
And melting voices, distant, but in tones
By distance soften'd, while the Echoes sigh'd
In lulling replication, fill the vault
With harmony. In admiration mute,
With nerves unbrac'd by rapture, he, entranc'd,
Stands like an eagle, when his parting plumes
The balm of sleep relaxes, and his wings
Fall from his languid side. Platea's chief,
Observing, rous'd the warrior. "Son of Mars,
Shall music's softness from thy bosom steal
The sense of glory? From his neighb'ring camp
Perhaps the Persian sends fresh nations down.
Soon in bright steel Thermopylæ will blaze.
Awake. Accustom'd to the clang of arms,
Intent on vengeance for invaded Greece,
My ear, my spirit in this hour admit
No new sensation, nor a change of thought."
The Thespian, starting from oblivious sloth
Of ravishment and wonder, quick reply'd.
"These sounds were more than humau. Hark!
Again!

Of nine bright virgins, round their priestess rang'd,
Who stood in awful majesty, receive
His unexpected feet. The song is hush'd.
The measur'd movement on the lyric chord
In faint vibration dies. The priestess sage,
Whose elevated port and aspect rose
To more than mortal dignity, her lyre
Consigning graceful to attendant hands,
Looks with reproof. The loose, uncover'd hair
Shades his inclining forehead; while a flush
Of modest crimson dyes his youthful cheek.
Her pensive visage softens to a smile
On worth so blooming, which she thus accosts.
"I should reprove thee, inadvertent youth,
Who through the sole access by Nature left
To this pure mansion, with intruding steps
Dost interrupt our lays. But rise. Thy sword
Perhaps embellish'd that triumphant scene,
Which wak'd these harps to celebrating notes.
What is the impress on thy warlike shield?"
"A golden eagle on my shield I bear,"
Still bending low, he answers. She pursues.
"Art thou possessor of that glorious orb,
By me distinguish'd in the late defeat
Of Asia, driv'n before thee? Speak thy name.
Who is thy sire? Where lies thy native seat?
Com'st thou for glory to this fatal spot,
Or from barbarian violence to guard
A parent's age, a spouse, and tender babes,
Who call thee father?" Humbly he again.

"I am of Thespia, Dithyrambus nam'd,
The son of Harmatides. Snatch'd by fate,
He to his brother, and my second sire,
Demophilus, consign'd me. Thespia's sons
By him are led. His dictates I obey,
Him to resemble strive. No infant voice
Calls me a father. To the nuptial vow
I am a stranger, and among the Greeks
The least entitled to thy partial praise."
"None more entitled," interpos'd the dame.
Deserving hero! thy demeanour speaks,
It justifies the fame, so widely spread,
Of Harmatides' heir. O grace and pride
Of that fair city, which the Muses love,
Thee an accepted visitant I hail

That from the mountain we may call the groves,
Swift motion through these marble fragments
To overleap the high Etæan ridge, [breathe
And crush the fell invaders of our peace.'
The animated hero upward springs
Light, as a kindled vapour, which, confin'd
In subterranean cavities, at length

In this their ancient temple. Thou shalt view
Their sacred haunts." Descending from the dome,
She thus pursues. "First know, my youthful hours
Were exercis'd in knowledge. Homer's Muse
To daily meditation won my soul,
With my young spirit mix'd undying sparks
Of her own rapture. By a father sage
Conducted, cities, manners, men I saw,
Their institutes and customs. I return'd.
The voice of Locris call'd me to sustain
The holy function here. Now throw thy sight
Across that meadow, whose enliven'd blades
Wave in the breeze, and glisten in the Sun
Behind the hoary fane. My bleating train
Are nourish'd there, a spot of plenty, spar'd
From this surrounding wilderness. Remark
That fluid mirror, edg'd by shrubs and flow'rs,
Shrubs of my culture, flow'rs by Iris dress'd.
Nor pass that smiling concave in the hill,
Whose pointed crags are soften'd to the sight