Reject, through mean solicitude to fly; Weak men! throughout these narrow seas the foe Is station'd now, preventing all escape."
Themistocles, though covetous of fame, Though envying pow'r in others, was not bred In horrid deserts, not with savage milk Of tigers nurs'd, nor bore a ruthless heart.
He thus replied: "With gratitude this foe Accepts thy welcome news, thy proffer'd aid, Thy noble challenge; in this glorious race Be all our strife each other to surpass. First know my inmost secrets; if the straits Are all invested with barbarian ships, The act is mine; of our intended flight I through Sicinus have appris'd the foes; Of his success thee messenger I hail."
The exile then: "Such policy denotes Themistocles; I praise, the Greeks have cause To bless, thy conduct; teach me now what task I can achieve; to labour, to advise With thee commanding, solely to enjoy The secret pleasure of preserving Greece, Is my pursuit; the glory all be thine."
"Before the council show that honour'd face," Rejoins the chief; "report thy tidings there. To preparation for immediate fight Exhort; such notice they would slight in me, In thee all men believe."-This said, they mov'd. Them on their way Myronides approach'd, Xanthippus, Cimon, Eschylus, and all The captains, fixing reverential eyes On Aristides; this the wary son Of Neocles remark'd; he gains the town Of Salamis, the council there is met; To them th' illustrious exile he presents, At whose appearance all th' assembly rise, Save Adimantus; fast by envy bound, He sits morose; illib'ral then the word, As Aristides was in act to speak, Thus takes: "Boeotia, Attica reduc'd, The Dorians, Locrians, you already know; To me this morn intelligence arriv'd, That Thespia, that Plataa were in flames, All Phocis conquer'd; thus alone of Greece The isle of Pelops unsubdu'd remains. For what is lost, ye Grecians, must we face Such mightier numbers, while barbarian hate Lurks in Psyttalia, watching for the wrecks Of our defeated navy? Shall we pause Now at the isthmus with united force To save a precious remnant? Landing there, Your sailors turn to soldiers, oars to spears; The only bulwark you have left, defend." Then Aristides: "Ignominious flight Necessity forbids; Ægina's shore Last night I left; from knowledge I report. The hostile navy bars at either mouth The narrow strait between Psyttalia's isle And Salamis, where lie your anchor'd ships. But shall the Greeks be terrified? What more Can they solicit of propitious Heav'n, Than such deluded enemies to face, Who trust in numbers, yet provoke the fight Where multitude is fruitless?"-Closing here, The unassuming exile straight retir'd. Cleander, ent'ring heard; while Corinth's chief, Blind with malignity and pride, pursued: "Her strength must Greece for Attica destroy'd Waste on the credit of a single tongue, From Athens banish'd?" Swift Cleander spake :
"Is there in Greece who doubts that righteous
Save Adimantus? To suspect the truth Of that illustrious exile, were to prove Ourselves both false and timid. Of altercation; from the fleet I come, The words of Aristides I confirm; Prepare to fight; no passage have our ships But through embattled foes."-The council rose. In this tremendous season thronging round Th' accomplish'd son of Neocles, their hopes In his unerring conduct all repose.
Thus on Olympus round their father Jove The deities collected, when the war
Of Earth's gigantic offspring menac'd Heav'n, In his omnipotence of arm and mind Confiding. Eurybiades, supreme
In title, ev'ry leader speeds to act What great Themistocles suggests; himself, In all expedients copious, seeks his wife, Whom he accosts, encircled where she stood With Attic dames: "Timothea, now rejoice! The Greeks will fight; to morrow's Sun will give A glorious day of liberty to Greece. Assemble thou the women; let the dawn Behold you spread the Salaminian beach; In your selected ornaments attir'd,
As when superb processions to the gods Your presence graces; with your children stand Encompass'd; cull your fairest daughters, range Them in the front; alluring be their dress, Their beauties half discover'd, half conceal'd; As when you practise on a lover's eye, Through that soft portal to invade the heart; So shall the faithful husband from his wife Catch fire, the father from his blooming race, The youthful warrior from the maid he loves: Your looks will sharpen our vindictive swords."
In all the grace of polish'd Athens thus His charge pronouncing, with a kind embrace He quits her bosom, nor th' encircling dames Without respectful admonition leaves To aid his consort. Grateful in itself A task she soon begins, which pleases more As pleasing him. A meadow fresh in green, Between the sea-beat margin and the walls, Which bore the island's celebrated name, Extended large; there oft the Attic fair In bevies met; Themistocles the ground To them allotted, that communion soft, Or pastime, sweetly cheating, might relieve The sad remembrance of their native homes. Here at Timothea's summons they conven'd In multitude beyond the daisies, strewn Thick o'er the verdure from the lap of Spring, When most profuse. The wives, the mothers here Of present heroes, there in bud are seen The future mothers of immortal sons, Of Socrates, of Plato, who to birth Had never sprung if Xerxes had prevail'd, Or would have liv'd barbarians. On a mount Timothea plac'd, her graceful lips unclos'd:
"Ye wives, ye mothers, and ye fair betroth'd, Your husbands, sons, and suitors claim that aid You have to give, and never can so well. A signal day of liberty to Greece Expect to morrow; of the glorious scene | Become spectators; in a bridal dress, Ye wives, encompass'd with your tender babes, Ye rev'rend matrons in your sumptuous robes,
As when superb processions to the gods Your presence graces; but ye future brides, Now maids, let all th' allurement of attire Enhance your beauties to th' enamour'd eye: So from the face he loves shall ev'ry youth Catch fire, with animating passion look On her, and conquer. Thus Cecropia's maids, Who left their country rather than abide Impure compulsion to barbarian beds, Or ply the foreign loom with servile hands, Shall live to see their hymeneal morn; Bless'd in heroic husbands, shall transmit To late posterity the Attic name. And you, whose exemplary steps began Our glorious emigration, you shall see
Your lords, your sons, in triumph to your homes Return, ye matrons"- "Or with them will die, If fortune frown," Laodice aloud; "For this I hold a poniard; ere endure
A Persian yoke, will pierce this female heart." Enthusiastic ardour seems to change Their sex; with manlike firmness all consent To meet Timothea there by early dawn In chosen raiment, and with weapons arm'd,
As chance should furnish. Thus Timothea sway'd, The emulator of her husband's art, But ne'er beyond immaculate intent; At her suggestion interpos'd her friend Laodice, the consort young and fair Of bold Aminias, train'd by naval Mars, From the same bed with Aschylus deriv'd. Træzene's leader, passing by, admir'd The gen'rous flame, but secretly rejoic'd In Ariphilia at Calauria safe;
He to thy tent, Themistocles, "was bound. Thee to Sicinus list'ning, just return'd From his successful course, Cleander found, Thee of thy dear Timothea first inform'd, While thou didst smile applause.
"From Aristides I deputed come; He will adventure from Psyttalia's isle This night to chase the foe, if thou concur In help and counsel: bands of Attic youth, Superfluous force excluded from the fleet, With ready arms the enterprise demand; Them, with his troop, Oïlean Medon joins."
To scour the vale, to mount the shelving hill, Or dash from thickets close the sprinkling dew. He thus to Medon: "Of Psyttalia's shore That eastern flat contains the Persian chief, Known by his standard; with four thousand youths Make thy impression there; the western end Our foes neglect, a high and craggy part; But Nature there through perforated rock Hath left a passage, with its mouth above Conceal'd in bushes; this, to me well known, I will possess; thence rushing, will surround The unsuspecting Persian. Darkness falls; Let all embark; at midnight ply the oar."
They hear and march; allotted seats they take Aboard the skiffs Sicinus had prepar'd, Impatient waiting, but impatience keeps Her peace. The second watch is now elaps'd, That baneful season, mark'd in legends old, When death-controlling sorcery compell'd Unwilling spirits back to mortal clay Entomb'd, when dire Thessalian charmers call'd Down from her orb the pallid queen of night, And Hell's tremendous avenues unclos'd; To Asia's mothers now of real bane,
Who soon must wail ten thousand slaughter'd sons. The boats in order move; full-fac'd the Moon Extends the shadows of a thousand masts Across the mirror of cerulean floods, Which feel no ruffling wind. A western course With his division Aristides steers, The Locrian eastward; by whose dashing oars A guard is rous'd, not timely to obstruct His firm descent, yet ready on the strand To give him battle. Medon's spear by fate Is wielded; Locrians and Athenians sweep The foes before them; numbers fresh maintain Unceasing conflict, till on ev'ry side His reinforcement Aristides pours,
The youth And turns the fight to carnage: by his arm Before a tent of stately structure sinks Autarctus brave in death. The twilight breaks On heaps of slaughter; not a Persian lives But Artamanes, from whose youthful brow The beaver sever'd by th' auspicious steel Of Medon, show'd a well-remember'd face; The Locrian swift embrac'd him, and began: "Deserve my kindness by some grateful news Of Melibœus and the Delphian priest; Not Eschylus in pity shall exceed My care in this thy second captive state." His grateful news the Persian thus repeats: "Nicæa, fort of Locris, them contains; Though pris'ners, happy in the guardian care Of Artemisia. What disastrous sight! Autarctus there lies prostrate in his blood. Oh, I must throw me at the victor's feet!" He went, by Medon introduc'd to kneel, Forbid by Aristides, he began:
"A noble Grecian, sage, experienc'd, brave," Returns the chief; "my answer is concise: Sicinus, fly! their pinnaces and skiffs Command th' Athenian vessels to supply At Aristides' call; th' attempt is wise, Becoming such a soldier; thou remain With him, to bring me tidings of success." Swift as a stone from Balearic slings, Sicinus hastens to th' Athenian fleet; Cleander light th' important order bears To Aristides, whose exalted voice
Collects the banding youth. So gen'rous hounds The huntsman's call obey; with ringing peals Their throats in tune delight Aurora's ear; They pant impatient for the scented field, Devour in thought the victims of their speed, Nor dread the rav'nous wolf, nor tusky boar, Nor lion, king of beasts. The exile feels Returning warmth, like some neglected steed Of noblest temper, from his wonted haunts Who long hath languish'd in the lazy stall; Call'd forth, he paws, he snuffs th' enliv'ning air, His strength he proffers in a cheerful neigh VOL. XVII.
"My own compassion to solicit yours, Without disgrace might bend a satrap's knee; I have a tale of sorrow to unfold,
Might soften hearts less humaniz'd and just Than yours, O gen'rous Grecians! In that tent The widow'd wife of this late envied prince, Yourg, royal matron-twenty annual Suns She hath not told-three infants."-At these words The righteous man of Athens stays to hear No more; he gains the tent, he enters, views Sandauce, silent in majestic woe,
With her three children in their eastern vests
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 Melibaus, known Safe in Nicæa; Persia's youth departs; The mournful train for Salamis embark.
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. Ægaléos 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 Attie 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, Fre 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, he 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 diffrent 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 Træzene'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 Surf, 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 Æolians 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 Ætna, 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, on fam'd Eurota's shore,
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