The Locrian chief salutes the figur'd god: Still dost thou stand, Palæmon, to proclaim Oilean hospitality of old,
Which carv'd thee here conspicuous, to befriend The sailor night-perplex'd? Thou only sign Left of Oïlean greatness! wrapp'd in woe Is that distinguish'd house! barbarians fill Her inmost chambers! O propitious god! If yet some remnant of the Locrian state Thou dost protect on Atalanté's shore, Before I leave her shall thy image smoke With fattest victims!" Timon quick subjoins:
"I see no hostile traces; numerous hinds Along the meadows tend their flocks and herds; Let us, descending, and the crested helm, The spear, and shield, committing to our train, In peaceful guise salute a peaceful laud," They hear, approving; lightly back they speed; Disarm'd, they follow an inviting path, Which cuts a shelving green. In sportive laugh, Before the threshold of a dwelling nigh, Appear young children; quickning then his pace, "O Haliartus," Medon cries, "I see My brother's offspring!" They their uncle knew, Around him flock'd, announcing his approach In screams of joy: their sire, Leonteus, came. As Leda's mortal son in Pluto's vale Receiv'd his brother Pollux, who, from Jove Deriv'd, immortal, left the realms of day, And half his own divinity resign'd,
His dear-lov'd Castor to redeem from death; So rush'd Leonteus into Medon's arms,
Thus utt'ring loud his transport: "Dost thou come To me and these a saviour! When that cloud Of dire invasion overcast our land, For sev'n defenceless infants what remain'd? What for a tender mother? Instant flight Preserv'd us; still we unmolested breathe In Atalanté; others like ourselves Resorted hither; barren winter soon Will blast the scanty produce of this isle, Pale famine waste our numbers; or, by want Compell'd, this precious remnant of thy friends, These rising pillars of th' Oïlean house Must yield to Xerxes-but the gods have sent In thee a guardian."-" Summon all our friends," Elated Medon answers ; 66 ev'ry want Shall be supply'd, their valour in return
Is all I claim.' Meantime, like watchful bees To guard th' invaded hive, from ev'ry part The islanders assemble; but the name Of Medon, once divulg'd, suppresses fear, And wond'ring gladness to his presence brings Their numbers. He, rememb'ring such a scene Late in Calauria, where afflicted throngs Around his righteous friend of Athens press'd; Now in that tender circumstance himself Among his Locrians, conscious too of means To mitigate their suff'rings, melts in tears Of joy. "O countrymen belov'd!" he cries, "I now applaud my forecast, which secur'd The whole Oilean treasures; safe they lie At Lacedæmon, whence expect relief Jn full abundance on your wants to flow. Amid his country's ruins Medon still May bless the gods; by your auspicious aid, Beyond my hopes discover'd, I may bring No feeble standard to the Grecian camp, When Athens, now triumphant o'er the waves, With her deep phalanx in the field completes VOL. XVII.
The overthrow of Asia, and restores Dejected Locris." So to Israel's sons, Their little ones and wives, by deathful thirst Amid the parching wilderness oppress'd, Their legislator, with his lifted rod, Consoling spake, who, Heav'n entrusted, knew One stroke would open watry veins of rock, And preservation from a flinty bed
Draw copious down. "Leonteus, lead the way," Resum'd his brother: "vers'd in arms, my youth, My prime, are strangers to the nuptial tie; Yet, in thy bliss delighting, I would greet A sister, auth'ress of this blooming troop." With all the clust'ring children at his side He pass'd the threshold, and their mother hail'd. Now o'er their heads the equinoctial gusts Begin to chase the clouds; by tempests torn, The hoarse Euripus sends a distant sound. Twelve days are spent in sweet domestic joy; Serenity returns. The master warns; Departing Medon reascends the bark, Whose rudder stems the celebrated frith, Where twice sev'n times the Sun and stars behold Reciprocating floods. Three days are pass'd When Sunium, Attic promontory, shades The resting sail; Belbina thence they seek By morn's new glance, and reach at dewy eve. Athenian too Belbina yields a port
To night-o'ertaken sailors in their course Between Cecropia and Træzene's walls. A squadron there is moor'd; Cleander there, Now ev'ry public duty well discharg'd Dismiss'd him glorious to his native roof, Was disembark'd. Contemplating in thought His Ariphilia, for the day's return
He languish'd; ev'ry Nereid he invok'd
To speed his keel. Him Medon, landing, greets; To whom Cleander: "On Caluria first We interchang'd embraces; now accept A salutation doubly warm, O chief! By Aristides priz'd, his second bold In high exploits, which signalize an isle Obscure before, Psyttalia; be my guest This night at least." He said; they pass'd aboart With Haliartus and the Delphian seer.
| A gen'rous meal concluded. Medon spake :
"Træzenian chief, now give the mind repast; I have been absent long; when first the flight Of Asia's host and shatter'd fleet was known, From Salamis I hoisted sail. To hear Of Aristides and the laurell'd son
Of Neocles, to hear of all the brave, Whose high achievements consecrate that day, From thy narration would delight my soul." Cleander then began: "To council call'd By Eurybiades, the leading Greeks Awhile debated, if their fleet combin'd Should sail to break the Hellespontine bridge? This he oppos'd; I readily had join'd Th' Athenian people, eager by themselves Without auxiliar Grecians, to pursue The arrogant invader; but the tribes, In form assembled, with dissuasive words Themistocles thus cool'd. I oft have seen, Have oftner heard, that vanquish'd men, constrain'd By desperation, have their loss repair'd In fight renew'd. Repelling such a cloud Of enemies from Greece, contented rest; The pow'r of gods and heroes, not our own, Achiev'd the deed; pursue not those who fly.
Resort to Athens; in their old abodes Replace your women, such obsequious wives, Such daughters; reinstate your native walls, Rebuild your ruin'd mansions; sow your fields, Prevent a dearth; by early spring unfurl Your active sails, then shake the eastern shores.' He last propos'd, that exiles be recall'd.
"Loud acclamations rose; the honour'd name Of Aristides thunder'd on the beach."
"O wise Athenians!" Medon cordial here: "O happy man, whose happiness is plac'd In virtuous actions! happiest now a scope Is giv'n unbounded to thy hand and heart! Proceed Cleander." He his tale renews:
"Th' Athenians lanch their gallies, all embark With Aristides, chosen to that charge. I set my ready canvass to perform The last kind office, from Calauria's isle
And Trozen's walls to waft their wives and race, Left in our trust. Meantime the diffrent chiefs Meet on the isthmus, summon'd to decide Who best had serv'd the public, who might claim The highest honours. Every leader names Himself the first, but all concurrent own Themistocles the second. Envy still Prevails; without decision they disperse, Each to his home. Themistocles, incens'd, In eager quest of honours justly due. Withheld unjustly, not to Athens bends His hast'ning step, but Sparta."-Medon here: "Not so would Aristides-but forgive My interrupting voice." The youth pursues: "In Athens him I join'd, a people found, Whom Fortune never by her frown depress'd, Nor satisfied with favour. Active all, Laborious, cheerful, they ersist in toil, To heave the hills of ruin from their streets, Without repining at their present loss, Intent on future greatness, to be rais'd On persevering fortitude: the word Of Aristides guides. Amidst a scene Of desolation, decency provides The fan'ral pomp for those illustrious slain At Salamis; th' insculptur'd tomb I saw Preparing; they already have ordain'd A distant day to solemnize the rites; The mouth of Aristides they decree To celebrate the valiant, who have died For Athens. While Themistocles accepts A foreign praise in Sparta, olive crowns, A car selected from the public store, A guard, three hundred citizens high-rank'd, Him through their tracts are chosen to attend, Excess of rev'rence, by that rigid state Ne'er shown before. To sinall Træzene's walls To morrow I return with less renown, With less desert, perhaps to purer bliss. My Ariphilia calls her soldier home
To give her nuptial hand. My welcome guest You I invite; the season rude of Mars
Is clos'd; new combats will the spring supply; Th' autumnal remnant, winter hov'ring near, Let us possess in peace." Then Timon spake : "Young chief, I praise thee; be a husband soon, Be soon a parent; thou wilt bear thy shield With constancy redoubled. If defence Of our forefathers, sleeping in their tombs, So oft unsheaths our swords, more strongly sure Th' endearing, living objects of our love Must animate the gen'rous, good, and brave."
"I am unworthy of that praise," in smiles Subjoins the Locrian; "but thou know'st, my friend,
I have a brother, of a copious stream The source, he, call'd to battle, shall maintain Oilean fame. Cleander, I am bound
To Lacedæmon; treasure there I left, Which, well exchang'd for Nature's foodful gifts, I would transport to Atalanté's shore, Seat of that brother, who, Leonteus nam'd, With brave companions there in refuge lies, A future aid to Greece." A list'ning ear Cleander yields, while Medon's lips unwind The varied series of events befall'n Himself and Timon, Amarantha fair, The Carian queen, and Melibous chang'd To Haliartus. "By th' immortal gods We will not sep'rate," fervent cries the youth ¿ "My Ariphilia, who is wise and good, Will entertain society like yours, As Ethiopia, in Mæonian song, Receives to pure and hospitable roofs Her visitants from Heav'n. Let youth advise, Not inexperienc'd, but o'er land and sea To early action train'd; retaining all Your narrative heart-piercing, I perceive Your wants, and feel impatience to befriend; My lightest keel to Salamis shall bear Thy orders, Timon, for the Delphian barks, There left behind you, in Trazene's port To join you straight." His counsel they accept. The Moon is rising, Salamis not far; The will of Timon to his Delphian train
Is swiftly borne. The squadron next proceeds, Passing Trozene by, whose gen'rous chief Accompanies to shore his Locrian guest
At Cynosura. Spartan is this port,"
He said; "with fifty followers speed thy way; Commit no treasure to the faithless winds; By land return to find thy ready barks, Well-fill'd from Trazen's stores." They part; he To joyful welcome on his native shores.
When now, unveiling slowly, as she rolls, Her brother's light the Moon reflected full, Auspicious period for connubial rites, From Lacedæmon hast'ning, Medon gains Træzene's ramparts; him Cleander chose His paranymph to lead the bridal steps Of Ariphilia. To Calauria's verge He pass'd; beneath a nuptial chaplet gay He wore his crisped hair; of purest white A tunic wrapp'd his sinewy chest and loins; A glowing mantle, new in Tyrian dye, Fell down his shoulders. Up the shelving lawn The high Neptunian structure he attains, Where with her parents Ariphilia waits Attir'd in roses like her hue, herself As Flora fair, or Venus at her birth, When from the ocean with unrifl'd charms The virgin goddess sprung. Yet, far unlike A maid sequester'd from the public eye, She, early train'd in dignity and state, In sanctity of manners to attract A nation's rev'rence, to the advancing chief In sweet composure unreluctant yields Her bridal hand, who down the vaulted isle, Where Echo joins the hymeneal song, Conducts the fair; before the costly shrine, Perfum'd with incense, and with garlands deck'd, Presents her charms, and thus in manly pray'r:
"My patron god, from Salamis I come, One of thy naval sons, erecting there Thy recent trophies; let me hence convey With thy concurrent smile this precious prize, Thy sacerdotal virgin. I return
To thee a pious votary, to her
A constant lover; on thy servants pour Thy nuptial blessing. Yet, earth-shaking god, Not bound in sloth thy warrior shall repose, Nor, languishing obscure in sweetest bliss, Desert thy glory. Soon as wintry storms Thy nod controls, and vernal breezes court The unfurling canvass, my unweary'd helm Shall cleave thy floods, till each barbarian coast Acknowledge thy supremacy, and bow To Grecian Neptune." Credulous, the train, Surrounding, in religious rapture see The colossean image of their god Smile on their hero, meriting the smiles Of deities and mortals. Fortune adds
Her casual favour; on Cleander's mast To perch, a pair of turtle doves she sends From Neptune's temple. To his vessel, crown'd With Hymen's wreaths, bestrewn with herbs and
Exhaling fragrance, down the slope he guides His Ariphilia, priestess now no more. So Hermes, guardian of the Graces, leads Their chief, Aglaia, o'er th' Olympian hall, Warn'd by the Muses, in preluding strains, The dance on Heav'n's bright pavement to begin, And charm the festive gods. The flood repass'd, They, as Trozenian institutes require, The fane of young Hippolytus approach, That victim pure to chastity, who left
Old Theseus childless. From the youthful heads Of both their hair is sever'd, on his shrine Their maiden off'ring laid. They next ascend An awful structure, sacred to the Fates, There grateful own that goodness which decreed Their happy union. To the Graces last Their vows are paid, divinities benign, Whom Ariphilia fervent thus invokes :
"O goddesses, who all its sweetness shed On human life! whate'er is beauteous here, Illustrious, happy, to your favour owes Its whole endearment; wanting you, our deeds Are cold and joyless. In my husband's eye Preserve me lovely, not in form alone, But that supreme of graces in my sex, Complacency of love." She pray'd; her look Reveal'd, that Heav'n would ratify her pray'r. Now in her father's dwelling they remain Till dusky ev'ning. On a bridal car, Constructed rich, the paranymph then seats The blooming fair; one side Cleander fills, The other Medon, she between them rides, By torches clear preceded. Lively sounds The ceremonial music; soon they reach The bridegroom's mansion; there a feast receives Unnumber'd friends; the nuptial dance and song Are now concluded. To her fragrant couch A joyful mother lights the blushing bride; Cleander follows; in the chamber shut, He leaves the guests exulting to revive Their song to Hymen, and renew the dance. Three days succeeding were to gymnic feats Devoted; Medon's warlike spear obtains A second chaplet; Haliartus won
The wrestler's prize; to hurl the massy disk
None match'd the skill of Timon, still robust, Though rev'rend threads of silver had begun To streak his locks of sable. Southern gales Now call on Medon's laden fleet to sail, Ere Winter frowns. With Timon at his side, And Haliartus, in this gentle phrase His noble host and hostess fair he greets:
"May ev'ry joy kind wishes can devise, Or language utter, hospitable pair, Be yours for ever! may a num'rous race In virtue grow by your parental care!- With sev'n dear pledges of connubial love I left a brother, watching my return In Atalanté, small, exhausted isle,
Which needs my instant succour. Gen'rous friend, To thee I trust my treasure, thou discharge The claim of Trozen for th' abundant stores Which load our vessels; for a time farewell, The vernal Sun will see our love renew'd, And swords combin'd against Mardonius bold." He said: the lovely Ariphilia weeps; Cleander sighs, but speeds his parting guests.
TH' unloos'd anchors to the waves resign The Delphian keels, while Auster's friendly breath, Their burden light'ning, soon to Sunium shows The spreading sails. Two vessels, riding there, Receive embarking warriors. On the beach Looks Medon stedfast: "By almighty Jove," He cries aloud, "Themistocles I see! O Haliartus, O my holy friend,
We must not leave unvisited a shore Which holds that living trophy to our view, The victor-chief at Salamis." The skiff Is lanch'd; they land. Themistocles begins The salutation: "Hail! Oïleus' son, Thou rev'rend host of Athens, Timon, hail! Your unexpected presence here excites A pleasing wonder. Whither do ye steer These well-remember'd vessels, which convey'd Thee, first of Locrians, with our Attic bard, To Salamis from Delphi? In that course Was Timon captive made, whom, freed at last, My joyful arms embrace." The Locrian here: "To Atalanté, in Eubœan straits,
We steer; another of Oïlean race, Through bounteous Heav'n, a refuge there obtains, My brother, good Leonteus, with a band Of gallant Locrians, ready at my call To lift their bucklers in defence of Greece. But why, remote from Athens, on the strand Of naked Sunium, do I see the son Of Neocles, so recently by me At Sparta left?" Themistocles replies:
"Forbear inquiry now, O virtuous branch Of that ennobled stock, th' Oïlean house! If e'er my conduct merited thy praise, If thou believ'st me studious of the fame Which follows manly deeds, forbear to doubt Th' unwearied further efforts of my limbs, My heart, my talents: secresy matures, Time brings the labour of the mind to birth. Were those first steps reveal'd, which restless
Constructing some vast enterprise, ascends, How wild a wand'rer, Medon, would appear
The policy of man! But, gen'rous chief, Whose valour, whose experience might assure A prosp'rous issue to a bold exploit, Say, should I open on some future day To thy discerning sight the clearest track, Where to success one glorious stride might reach, Wouldst thou be ready at my call?" He paus'd. From such a mouth, such captivating words Insinuate sweetness through the Locrian's ear, Who feels th' allurement; yet, by prudence rul'd, This answer frames: "Through such a glorious track
Whoever guides, may challenge Medon's aid; Thou prove that guide, my steps shall follow close, Unless by Aristides call'd, whose voice Commands my service." Cool th' Athenian hides The smart his wounded vanity endures, And manly thus, unchang'd in look, rejoins:
"I ask no more; I rest my future claim On Medon's valour, only to support What Aristides shall approve. Farewell. Avail thee straight of these propitious winds; In Atalanté, known to me of old,
What force thou can'st, assemble; dread no wants, I will be watchful to supply them all." They part. Now Medon, under hoisted sails,, Remarks unwonted transport on the cheek Of Haliartus. "O my peasant weeds," His joy exclaims, "how gratefully you rise In my remembrance now! From you my hopes Forebode some benefit to Greece. Dear lord,
Forbear inquiry; by yon hero warn'd, In secresy my thoughts, till form'd complete, Lie deeply bury'd." Timon smil'd, and spake: "I know, full often enterprises bold Lie in the womb of mystery conceal'd; Thus far th' Athenian hero and thyself Raise expectation; but I further know, His faculties are matchless, thou art brave, Unerring Medon like my god is wise; Thence expectation soars on steady wings. O light of Greece, Themistocles, exert
Thy boundless pow'rs! mature thy pregnant plan! Whene'er the glorious mystery unveils, Me and my Delphians thou shalt find prepar'd." The turbulent Euripus swift they plough In pleasing converse thus, and clasp, in hope, Their anxious friends on Atalanté's shore.
When ev'ry mast was hid by Sunium's cape, Thus to his faithful minister, the son Of Neocles: "Sicinus, hast thou seen My followers on board? The treasures brought From Xerxes, those my spoils of war supply, The arms, the stores, Sicinus, has thy care Deposited in safety?"—"Yes," replies
Th' entrusted servant. "Now thyself embark," His lord enjoins, who, musing thus, remains: "If my attempt to further I have won This gallant Locrian, frankly I confess My debt to Fortune; but this casual boon I can forego, if wantonly her hand Resumes; Themistocles alone can trace A path to glory." Tow'rds the land he turns, Proceeding thus: "Now, Attica, farewell, Awhile farewell. To thee, barbarian gold, Themistocles resorts; my bosom guest, Whom Aristides in disdain would spurn, By thee, O gift of Xerxes, I will raise The weal of Athens, and a fresh increase To my own laurels. Uncontroll'd, supreme
Is Aristides. He the Attic youth In phalanx bright to victory may lead ; Minerva's bird Xanthippus may display To Asia, trembling at their naval flag; A private man, Themistocles will reach Your summits, fellow citizens, preferr'd To his command. Ye chosen heroes, wait For breezy Spring to wanton in your sails, Then range your vig'rous files, and pamper'd steeds; Themistocles, amid septentrion snows, Shall rouse Despair and Anguish from their den Of lamentation; Poverty shall blaze In radiant steel; pale Misery shall grasp A standard. Athens, thy rejected son Extorted aid from tyranny shall draw On his own greatness to establish thine."
Swift he embarks, like Neptune when he mounts His rapid conch to call the tempests forth, Upturn the floods, and rule them when they rage. The third clear morning shows Eretria's port, Among Euboean cities once superb, Eretria now in ashes. She had join'd Th' Athenians, bold invaders, who consum'd The capital of Lydia, to revenge Ionian Greeks enthrall d. Eretria paid Severe atonement to Hystaspes' son, Incens'd Darius. To a Cissian plain,
A central space of his unbounded realm, Far from their ancient seat, which flames devour'd, He her exterminated race confin'd,
Sad captives, never to revisit more
Their native isle. A silent wharf admits Themistocles on shore, a void extent, Where sons of Neptune heretofore had swarm'd. No mooring vessel in the haven rode,
No footstep mark'd the ways; sole inmates there, Calamity and Horrour, as enthron'd, Sat on o'erwhelming ruins, and forbade The hero passage, till a seeming track Presents, half bury'd in surrounding heaps Of desolation, what appears a dome Rais'd to some god. Themistocles observes A shatter'd porch, whose proud supporters lie In fraginents, save one column, which upholds Part of a sculptur'd pediment, where, black By conflagration, an inscription maim'd Retains these words, "To ELEUTHERIAN JOVE," Th' Athenian enters, follow'd by his train In arms complete. Excluded was the day By ruins pil'd externally around,
Unless what broken thinly-scatter'd rays Shot through th'encumber'd portal. Soon they stand Amidst obscuring dusk in silence all,
All motionless in wonder, while a voice, Distinct in tone, delivers through the void These solemn accents: "Eleutherian god! Since no redeemer to Eretria fall'n Thy will vouchsafes, why longer dost thou keep Thy aged servant on a stage of woe? Why not release him? why not close his eyes, So vainly melting o'er his country lost? Ten years are fled; the morning I have hail'd In sighs alone; have laid my head on thorns Of anguish, nightly visited in dreams By images of horrour, which employ Each waking moment. To have seen destroy'd From their foundations my paternal streets, The holy structures burn, a people forc'd In climates new and barbarons to dwell, Was sure enough to suffer-it is time
To give my patience rest." The plaintive sound Draws on th' Athenian, who perceives a gleam, Pale quiv'ring o'er a solitary lamp; Perceives a rev'rend sire, resembling Time, Down to whose girdle hangs the snowy fleece Of wintry age. Unaw'd his lamp he rais'd; A dim reflection from the polish'd arms Reveal'd the warrior, whom he thus bespake: "Whate'er thou art, if hostile, or a friend, A god, a mortal, or a phantom vain,
Know, that my state no change can render worse, All change make better."-" Father," soft replied Th' advancing chief, "take coinfort, I am come Thy country's saviour; follow, in the day See who I am." Between the op'ning band He leads the senior through the dusky porch, Whom he accosts before th' unclouded Sun, Then vertical: "Rest, father, and behold Themistocles of Athens." While the priest, So by his fillet sacerdotal known, In wonder paus'd, th' artificer divine Of wiles to catch the sudden turns of chance, Frames in a momentary cast of thought This bright device of fiction to allure A holy mind. "O worthy of the god! Thou servant pure of Jupiter! I mourn, Like thee, Eretria, not like thee despond, Attend, thou righteous votary to Heav'n! I, from the day of Salamis o'ertoil'd, While courting slumber, in a vision saw The sapient issue of th' almighty sire, His best belov'd Minerva. Still the sound Of her gorgonian shield my ears retain, While earnest, striking on its rim her spear, The virgin warrior spake: Triumphant son Of Neocles, remember in thy joy The miseries of others. Go, redeem Eretria fall'n, whose noble remnant arm'd Sev'n ships; exhausting all their slender stores, To fight for Athens on this glorious day'."
As from the sooty gate of direful Dis Deliver'd Theseus, when to cheering day He reascended, on Alcides look'd, Who for his lov'd companion pierc'd the gloom Of Erebus; th' Eretrian's grateful eyes Thus on the son of Neocles were fix'd, In ecstasy of joy. These fervent words He utter'd: "Heav'n hath given thee to destroy Presumptuous foes, O favour'd by the gods! Who give thee now to save despairing friends; That, all-rejoicing in thy trophies new, Great as thou art, thy gen'rous soul may prove, How far beyond the transports conquest yields, Are those resulting from benignant deeds. More grateful, chief, is Charity's sweet voice, Than Fame's shrill trumpet, in the ear of Jove, Who will, on such humanity as thine, Accumulate his blessings. If my name Thou ne'er hast heard, or, hearing, hast forgot, Know, that from lib'ral Cleobulus sprung, I am Tisander." Interrupting swift,
Th' Athenian here: "Thy own, thy father's name, To me, illustrious pontiff, well are known. My recent banner in the summer's gale Thou must remember on th' Eretrian coast. Eretrian warriors under Cleon's charge, In ships by me supply'd, undaunted fought At Artemisium, and an earnest gave
Of their late prowess. From their chief, from all Thy celebrating countrymen, I heard
Of thee, Tisander, and thy name retain; Proceed." To him the priest: "Flow first my Of that brave band whatever now remains Have nought but prowess left. Escap'd thy fell, exterminating hand, When treachery surrender'd to thy pow'r, Darius! Sons of husbandry lay hid
In woods and caverns; of the nobler class Some on the main were absent. Priest of Jove I was releas'd; a pious, beardless prince, Nam'd Hyperanthus, on my rank and years Look'd with compassion; living, I extol, My dying breath shall bless him. I have dwelt Within my temple, mourning o'er this waste. Here, annually collected (lo! the day Of that sévere solemnity is nigh)
Th' unhappy relics of Eretrian blood Accompany my tears. Thou knowst, they sail'd At thy appointment, on Athenian decks, They and the men of Styra from that port For Salamis. In glory they return'd
To want and horrour, desert found their land, Their crops, their future sustenance destroy'd, Their huts consum'd, their cattle swept away, Their progeny, their wives; flagitious act Of Demonax, in Oreus late replac'd, Her tyrant foul, a slave to Xerxes' throne, His scourge in rich Euboea, half-reduc'd To this dire monster's sway, by royal aid Of endless treasure, and barbarian bands. Such is our state. Too scanty are the means Of willing Styra to relieve such wants; Our wealthier neighbours of Carystus vend, Not give; in hoarded grain, in flocks and herds Abounding, them a sordid chief controls, Nicomachus. An oligarchy rules Gereæstus small, but opulent-O Jove! I see brave Cleon yonder; from his head He rends the hair-what gestures of distress! He beats his troubled bosom, wrings his hands! Not heeding great Themistocles, he points On me alone a wild distracted look! Say, Cleon."......Swift, with shiv'ring lips and pale, Th' Eretrian leader, interrupting, vents His tortur'd thoughts: "Tisander, can thy pray'rs Repel grim famine, rushing on the blast Of barren winter? Three disastrous days Will lay the combatants for Grecce in dust, Behind them leaving nothing but a name For Salamis to publish. Lo! they come, A dying people, suppliant to repose Within thy fane their flesh-divested bones: Yet such a tomb, their fainting voices cry, May those Eretrians envy who are doom'd To lodge their captive limbs in Asia's mould." He ends in sighs. Behold, a ghastly troop Slow through the ruins of their native streets In languid pace advance! So gath'ring shoals Of ghosts from hour to hour through endless time, The unrelenting eye of Charon views,
By sickness, plague, and famine, by the sword, Or heart-corroding sorrow, sent from light To pass the black irremeable floods Of Styx. Cecropia's hero cast a look Like Phoebus heav'nly-gentle, when, aton'd, Th' infections air he clear'd, awak'ning gales To breathe salubrious o'er th' enfeebled host Of Agamemnon, as from death they rose Yet to assert their glory. Swift the chief Bespake Sicinus: "Haste, unlade the ships;
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