Resistance vain, and yielded." From the van
Now stepp'd the Persian graceful, and bespake
Themistocles: "Accept a second time
Thy captive, gen'rous Grecian; nor impute
To want of prowess, or to fond excess
Of acquiescence to Sandaucè's will,

My unreserv'd surrender. To have stain'd
By fruitless contest thy triumphant wreaths
With blood, and spurn'd the bounty of thy hand,
Had prov'd ingratitude in me." These words
Cecropia's chief return'd: "Receive my hand,
Thy pledge of freedom here not less secure
Than heretofore at Salamis, thy pledge

Of bliss yet more endearing. Soon my keel
Shall place thee happy on thy native coast,
Thee and thy princess; that in future days
You may at least of all the Asian breed
Report my kindness, and forget my sword."
Amidst his words a soft complaining trill
Of Philomela interrupts their sound.

The youthful satrap then: "That pensive bird,
Sandauce's warbling summoner, is wont
In evening shade on Ariana's tomb

To sit and sing; my princess there devotes
In melancholy solitude this hour

To meditation, which dissolves in tears."

"Then greet her," said th' Athenian; "thy return Will soothe her tender breast. My promise add, That on the first fair whisper of the winds, She shall revisit her maternal soil."

This said, they parted. At her sister's grave The satrap join'd his princess. He began:

"I have obey'd thy summons. No disgrace
Was my surrender to the conqu'ring sword,
Which Persia long hath felt. Thy servant comes
No more a captive, but to thee by choice;
Themistocles all bounteous and humane,
As heretofore, I find. Forbear to check
That rising birth of smiles; in perfect light
Those half-illuminated eyes attire ;
Enough the tribute of their tears hath lav'd
These precious tombs. Prepare thee to embark;
Themistocles hath promis'd thou shalt leave
A land, whose soaring genius hath depress'd
The languid plumes of Asia. Lift thy head
In pleasing hope to clasp thy mother's knees,
To change thy weeds of mourning, and receive
A royal brother's gift, this faithful hand."

Nigh Ariana's clay Autarctus slept.
Divine Sandaucè on her husband's tomb,
With marble pomp constructed by the care
Of Artamanes, fix'd a pensive look

In silence. Sudden from the cluster'd shrubs,
O'erhanging round it, tuneful all and blithe
A flight of feather'd warblers, which abound
Through each Thessalian vale, in carrol sweet
Perch on the awful monument. The Sun
Streaks with a parting, but unsully'd ray,
Their lively change of plumage, and each rill
Is soften'd by their melody. "Accept,
Accept this omen," Artamanes cries;
"Autarctus favours, Horomazes smiles,
Whose choir of songsters not unprompted seem
Our nuptial hymn preluding." She replies:

"I want no omen to confirm thy truth. Dust of my sister, of my lord, farewell; Secure in Grecian piety remain.

Still in his offspring will Sandaucè love

That husband, thou, my Artamanes, still

Press'd by the youth. With purity their guide, They o'er the mead Sperchean slowly seek Trachinian portals. Phoebe on their heads Lets fall a spotless canopy of light.

BOOK XXVI.

FROM her Tithonian couch Aurora mounts
The sky. In rev'rence now of Sparta's name,
Yet more of dead Leonidas, three days
To preparation for his burial rites
Themistocles decrees. To curious search
Innumerable herds and flocks supply
Selected victims. Of their hairy pines
To frame the stately pyre the hills are shorn.
Amid this labour Hyacinthus, rich

In Aleuadian spoil, his colleague, brave
Nicanor, all the Potidæan bands,

Th' Olynthians, and Nearchus, who conducts
The youth of Chalcis, reinforce the camp
With their victorious ranks. Th' appointed day
Was then arriv'd. A broad constructed pyre
Tow'rs in the centre of Trachiniæ's plain;
The diff'rent standards of the Grecian host
Are planted round. The Attic chief convenes
The fifty Spartans of his guard, and thus:

"Themistocles, distinguish'd by your state,
By your assiduous courage long sustain'd,
Will now repay these benefits. Your king,
Leonidas, the brightest star of Greece,
No more shall wander in the gloom of Styx;
But that last passage to immortal seats
Through me obtain. Greek institutes require
The nearest kindred on the fun'ral stage
The dead to lay, the victims to dispose,
To pour libations, and the sacred dust
Inurn. Alone of these assembled Greeks
Are you the hero's countrymen; alone
Your hands the pious office shall discharge."

Th' obedient Spartans from Trachiniæ's gates
Produce to view the venerable bones
Herculean. Lifted up the structure high
Of pines and cedars, on the surface large
All, which of great Leonidas remains,
By sedulous devotion is compos'd.
The various captains follow, some in gaze
Of wonder, others weeping. Last appears
Melissa, trailing her pontific pall
(Calliopè in semblance) with her troop
Of snowy-vested nymphs from Eta's hill,
With all her vassals, decently arrang'd
By Mycon's care. Two hecatombs are slain,
Of sheep five hundred, and libations pour'd
Of richest wine. A Spartan now applies
The ruddy firebrand. In his priestly robe
Phœbean Timon supplicates a breeze
From Eolus to raise the creeping flame.
Thrice round the crackling heaps the silent host,
With shields revers'd, and spears inclining low,
Their solemn movement wind. The shrinking pyre
Now glows in embers; fresh libations damp
The heat. A vase of silver high-emboss'd,
By Hyacinthus from Larissa brought,

Spoil of th' abode which treach'rous Thorax held,
Receives the sacred ashes, and is plac'd
Before Melissa. So the godlike son
Of Neocles directs. An awful sign

"Thou art not dead, Leonidas; thy mind In ev'ry Grecian lives. Thy mortal part, 'Transform'd to ashes, shall on ŒEta's hill Among the celebrating Muses dwell In glory; while through animated Greece Thy virtue's inextinguishable fires

Propitious beam, and, like the flames of Jove,
Intimidate her foes. Not wine, nor oil,
Nor blood of hecatombs, profusely spilt,
Can to thy manes pay the tribute due;
The massacre of nations, all the spoil
Of humbled Asia, Destiny hath mark'd
For consecration of thy future tomb.
Two ministers my soul prophetic sees,
Themistocles and Aristides, stand
Presiding o'er the sacrifice. The earth,
The sea, shall witness to the mighty rites.
Cease to regret the transitory doom
Of thy remains insulted, no disgrace
To thee, but Xerxes.

Pass, exalted shade,

The bounds of Dis, nor longer wail thy term
Of wand'ring now elaps'd; all measur'd time
Is nothing to eternity. Assume
Among the bless'd thy everlasting seat.
Th' indignity, thy earthly frame endur'd,
Perhaps the gods permitted in their love
To fill the measure of celestial wrath
Against thy country's foes; then rest in peace,
Thou twice illustrious victim to her weal.'

As, when Minerva in th' Olympian hall
Amid the synod of celestials pour'd
Her eloquence and wisdom, ev'ry god
In silence heard, and Jove himself approv'd;
Around Melissa thus were seen the chiefs
In admiration bound; o'er all supreme
Themistocles applauded. Mycon last,
With her injunction charg'd, to Eta's shrine
Was now transporting in their polish'd urn
The treasur'd ashes, when along the plain
A sudden, new appearance strikes the sight,
A fun'ral car, attended by a troop
Of olive-bearing mourners. They approach
Melissa; suppliant in her view expose
Embalm'd Masistius. Sent from Asia's camp,
A passage these had recently obtain'd
From good Leonteus, by his brother plac'd
Thermopyla's sure guard. Melissa knew
The page Statirus, foremost of the train,
Who at her feet in agony began:

"Thy late protector, cold in Death's embrace,
Survey, thou holy paragon; his fall
Asopus saw. Before the hero climb'd
His fatal steed, to me this charge he gave.
"If I return a conqueror this day,
To that excelling dame who made thee mine,
Who hath enlarg'd whate'er of wise and great,
Of just and temp'rate I to Nature owe,
Refin'd my manners, and my purest thoughts
Exalted, I my friendship will prolong
In gratitude and rev'rence; blessing Heav'n,
Which thus prefers Masistius to extend
Benevolence to virtue. If I fall,
Resume with her the happiest lot my care
Can recommend, Statirus. Though no Greek,
Her pupil, say, in offices humane

Hath not been tardy; by her light inspir'd,
He went more perfect to a noble grave.'
"Cast from his wounded courser, he, o'erpow'r'd
By numbers, died. The body was restor'd
By Aristides, of unrivall'd fame

Among the just and gen'rous. O'er the dead
Mardonius rent his vesture, and his hair,
Then thus ordain'd: This precious clay embalm'd
To Artamanes bear, whose pious zeal
A friend's remains to Sestus will convey,
Thence o'er the narrow Hellespont to reach
His native Asia, and his father's tomb.'

"I then repeated what my virtuous lord, Expiring, utter'd: Let Mardonius think How brief are life's enjoyments. Virtue lives Through all eternity. By virtue earn'd Praise too is long-Melissa, grant me thine'." "Commend me to Melissa'-starting, spake The son of Gobryas. From the shameful cross Bid Artamanes in her presence free Leonidas the Spartan.'-All my charge Is now accomplish'd faithfully to all."

Not far was Artamanes. From the train Of Persians strode a giant stern in look, Who thus address'd the satrap: "Prince, behold Briareus; hither by Mardonius sent, Guard of this noble body, I appear

A witness too of thy disgrace; I see

These Greeks thy victors. Is th' Athenian chief
Among the band?" Themistocles advanc'd;
To whom Briareus: "Art thou he, who dar'd
My lord to battle on the plains of Thebes?
Where have thy fears confin'd thee till this hour
That I reproach thee with thy promise pledg'd?
But this inglorious enterprise on herds,

On flocks, and helpless peasants, was more safe,
Than to abide Mardonius in the field.

I now return. What tidings shall I bear
From thee, great conqueror of beeves and sheep?"
"Say, I am safe," Themistocles replies

In calm derision, " and the fun'ral rites,
Thus at my leisure, to Laconia's king
Perform, while your Mardonius sleeps in Thebes.
The spirit of Leonidas, in me

Reviving, shall from Eta's distant top
Shake your pavilions on Asopian banks.
Yet, in return for his recover'd bones,
I, undisputed master of the main,
Will waft Masistius to a Persian grave.
Thou mayst depart in safety, as thou cam'st."
The savage hears, and sullenly retreats;
While pious Medon thus accosts the dead:

"Thou son of honour, to thy promise just,
Melissa's brother venerates the clay
Of her avow'd protector. Let my care
Preserve these relics where no greedy worm,
Nor hand profane, may violate thy form;
Till friendly gales transport thee to repose
Among thy fathers." Through Trachinian gates
He leads the sable chariot, thence conveys
Th' illustrious burden to Melissa's roof;
Statirus aids. The priestess, there apart,
Bespake her brother thus: "My tend'rest tears,
From public notice painfully conceal'd,
Shall in thy presence have a lib'ral flow.
Thou gav'st me this protector; honour, truth,
Humanity, and wisdom like thy own,
Were his appendage. Virtue is the same
In strangers, kindred, enemies, and friends.
He won my friendship-might in earlier days
Have kindled passion-O! since Fate decreed
Thee from Asopus never to return;
If by Melissa's precepts thou inspir'd
Didst go more perfect to a noble grave,
I bless the hours; and memory shall hold

Each moment dear, when, list'ning to my voice,
Thou sat'st delighted in the moral strain.
Leonidas and thou may pass the floods
Of Styx together; in your happy groves
Think of Melissa. Welcom'd were ye both

By her on Earth; her tongue shall never cease,
Her lyre be never wanting to resound

Thee, pride of Asia, him, the first of Greeks,

In blended eulogy of grateful song."

A copious web of eloquence unwinds,
Explaining how Masistius had consum'd
Nine lunar cycles in assiduous zeal

To guard her fane, her vassals to befriend;
How they ador'd his presence; how he won
Her from the temple to Sandaucè's cure
At Amarantha's suit; within his tent
How clemency and justice still abode
To awe barbarians; how, departing sad,
His last farewell at Eta's shrine he gave

In words like these: "Unrivall'd dame, we march
Against thy country-Thou should'st wish our fall.
If we prevail, be confident in me

Thy safeguard still-But Heav'n, perhaps, ordains That thou shalt never want Masistius more."

She pauses. Now her mental pow'rs sublime, Collected all, this invocation frame.

"O eleutherian sire! this virtuous light, By thee extinguish'd, proves thy care of Greece. Who of the tribes barbarian now survives To draw thy favour? Gratitude requires This pure libation of my tears to lave Him once my guardian; but a guardian new, Thy gift in Medon, elevates at last My gratitude to thee." Serene she clos'd, Embrac'd her brother, and retir'd to rest. From Eta's heights fresh rose the morning breeze. A well-apparell'd galley lay unmoor'd In readiness to sail. Sandaucè drops A parting tear on kind Melissa's breast, By whom dismiss'd, Statirus on the corse Of great Masistius waits. The Grecian chiefs Lead Artamanes to the friendly deck, In olive wreaths, pacific sign, attir'd, Whence he the fervour of his bosom pours:

"O may this gale with gentleness of breath
Replace me joyous in my seat of birth,
As I sincere on Horomazes call

To send the dove of peace, whose placid wing
The oriental and Hesperian world
May feel, composing enmity and thirst
Of mutual havoc! that my grateful roof
May then admit Themistocles, and all
Those noble Grecians, who sustain'd my head,
Their captive thrice. But, ah! what founts of blood
Will fate still open to o'erflow the earth!
Yet may your homes inviolate remain,
Imparting long the fulness of those joys,
Which by your bounty I shall soon possess !"

He ceas'd. The struggle of Sandaucè's heart
Suppress'd her voice. And now the naval pipe
Collects the rowers. At the signal shrill
They cleave with equal strokes the Malian floods.
Meantime a vessel, underneath the lee
Of Locris coasting, plies the rapid oar
In sight. She veers, and, lodging in her sails
The wind transverse, across the haven skims;
Till on Sperchean sands she rests her keel.
Themistocles was musing on the turns
Of human fortune, and the jealous eye

Inflexibly their augurs have forbid.

The camp, which Ceres shall the best supply,
Will gain the palm."" Mardonius then must
fight

To our advantage both of time and place,"
Themistocles replies, and sudden calls
The diff'rent leaders round him. Thus he spake :
"Eubœans, Delphians, Locrians, you, the chiefs
Of Potidea and Olynthus, hear.
The ritual honours to a hero due,
Whom none e'er equall'd, incomplete are left;
Them shall the new Aurora see resum'd.
At leisure now three days to solemn games
I dedicate. Amid his num'rous tents
Mardonius on Asopus shall be told,
While he sits trembling o'er the hostile flood,
Of Grecian warriors on the Malian sands
Disporting. You in gymnic lists shall wing
The flying spear, and hurl the massy disk,
Brace on the cestus, and impel the car
To celebrate Leonidas in sight

Of Eta, witness to his glorious fate.

"But fifty vessels deep with laden stores I first detach, that gen'ral Greece may share In our superfluous plenty. Want shall waste Mardonian numbers, while profusion flows Round Aristides. To protect, my friends, Th'important freight, three thousand warlike spears Must be embark'd. You, leaders, now decide, Who shall with me Thermopyla maintain, Who join the Grecian camp." First Medon rose: "From thy successful banner to depart Believe my feet reluctant. From his cross When I deliver'd Lacedæmon's king, My life, a boon his friendship once bestow'd, I then devoted in the face of Heav'n To vindicate his manes. What my joy, If I survive; if perish, what my praise To imitate his virtue? Greece demands In his behalf a sacrifice like this From me, who, dying, only shall discharge The debt I owe him; where so well discharge, As at Asopus in the gen'ral shock

Of Greece and Asia? But the hundred spears, Which have so long accompany'd my steps Through all their wand'rings, are the only force My wants require. The rest of Locrian arms Shall with Leonteus thy control obey."

Pois'd on his shield, and cas'd in Carian steel, Whence issued lustre like Phœbean rays, Thus Haliartus: "Me, in peasant-weeds, Leonidas respected. Though my heart Then by unshaken gratitude was bound, My humble state could only feel, not act. A soldier now, my efforts I must join With godlike Medon's, to avenge the wrongs Of Sparta's king. But first the soldier's skill, My recent acquisition, let my arm

For ever lose, if once my heart forget

The gen'rous chief, whose service try'd my arm,

The prime reward a mortal can obtain,
Trophonius, shall be thine.' Apollo thrice
His circle ran; behold Trophonius dead.
With prophecy his spirit was endu’a,
But where abiding in concealment long
The destinies envelop'd. Lo! a dearth
Afflicts Bootia. Messengers address

The Delphian pow'r for succour. He enjoins
Their care throughout Lebadian tracts to seek
Oracular Trophonius. Long they roam

In fruitless search; at last a honey'd swarm
Before them flies; they follow, and attain
A cave. Their leader enters, when a voice,
Revealing there the deity, suggests
Cure to their wants, and knowledge of his will
How to be worshipp'd in succeeding times.
To him the name of Jupiter is giv'n.
He to the fatal Sisters hath access;
Sees Clotho's awful distaff; sees the thread
Of human life by Lachesis thence drawn;
Sees Atropos divide, with direful shears,
The slender line. But rueful is the mode
Of consultation, though from peril free,
Within his dreary cell. In thy behalf
Thou mayst a faithful substitute appoint."

"By Horomazes, no!" exclaims the chief. "It is the cause of empire, from his post Compels the Persian leader; none but he Shall with your god confer." Transactions past To Hegesistratus he now details,

His heart unfolding, nor conceals th' event

In Asia's camp, when Aemnestus bold,

The Spartan legate, prompted, as by Heav'n,

Him singled out the victim to atone

Bright vases, tripods, images, and crowns, The presents borne by those gigantic hands, With fascinating lustre fix'd the priest To gaze unsated on the copious store. "Pass through, but unaccompany'd," he said, "Illustrious Persian. Be th' accepted gifts Deposited within these holy gates."

He leads the satrap to a grassy mount, Distinct with scatter'd plantains. Each extends O'er the smooth green his mantle brown of shade. Of marble white an edifice rotund,

In all th' attractive elegance of art,
Looks from the summit, and invites the feet
Of wond'ring strangers to ascend. The prince,
By his conductor, is instructed thus:

"Observe yon dome. Thou first must enter there
Alone, there fervent in devotion bow
Before two statues; one of Genius good,
Of Fortune fair the other." At the word
Mardonius enters. Chance directs his eye
To that expressive form of Genius good,
Whose gracious lineaments, sedately sweet,
Recall Masistius to the gloomy chief.

O Melancholy! who can give thee praise?
Not sure the gentle; them thy weight o'erwhelms.
But thou art wholesome to intemp'rate minds,
In vain by wisdom caution'd. In the pool

Of black adversity let them be steep'd,
Then pride, and lust, and fury thou dost tame.
So now Mardonius, by thy pow'r enthrall'd,
Sighs in these words humility of grief.

If Heav'n, relenting, will to me assign A Genius good, he bears no other name Than of Masistius. Oh! thou spirit bless'd,

Of navigation now suspends their words.

Against the influx of Cephissus, down
Lebadian vales in limpid flow convey'd,
The rowers now are lab'ring. O'er their heads
Hudge alders weave their canopies, and shed
Disparted moonlight through the lattic'd boughs;
Where Zephyr plays, and whisp'ring motion breathes
Among the pliant leaves. Now roseate tincts
Begin to streak the orient verge of Heav'n,
Foretok'ning day. The son of Gobryas lands,
Where in soft murmur down a channel'd slope
The stream Hercyna, from Trophonian groves,
Fresh bubbling meets Cephissus. He ascends
With all his train. Th' enclosure, which begirds
The holy purlieus, through a portal hung
With double valves on obelisks of stone,
Access afforded to the steps of none
But suppliants. Hegesistratus accosts
One in pontific vesture station'd there:

"Priest of Boeotia's oracle most fam'd,
Dismiss all fear. Thy country's guardian hail,
This mighty prince, Mardonius. He preserves
Inviolate her fanes; her willing spears
All range beneath his standards. To confer
With your Trophonius, lo! he comes with gifts,
Surpassing all your treasur'd wealth can boast.
His hours are precious, nor admit delay;
Accept his sumptuous off'rings, and commence
The ceremonials due." At first aghast
The holy man survey'd the giant guard.
Soon admiration follow'd at thy form,
Mardonius. Low in stature, if compar'd
With those unshapen savages, sublime
Thou trod'st in majesty of mien, and grace
Of just proportion. Last the gems and gold,

Canst thou, her seat relinquishing awhile,
Unseen, or visible, protect thy friend
In this momentous crisis of his fate;
Or wilt thou, if permitted? Ah! no more
Think of Mardonius fierce, ambitious, proud,
But as corrected by thy precepts mild;
Who would forego his warmest hopes of fame,
Of pow'r, and splendour, gladly to expire,
If so the myriads trusted to his charge
He might preserve, nor leave whole nations fall'n,
A prey to vultures on these hostile plains.
Come, and be witness to the tears which flow,
Sure tokens of sincerity in me,

Not us'd to weep; who, humbled at thy loss,
Melt like a maiden, of her love bereav'd
By unrelenting Death. My demon kind,
Do thou descend, and Fortune will pursue
Spontaneous and auspicious on her wheel
A track unchang'd." Here turning, he adores
Her flatt'ring figure, and forsakes the dome.

Along Hercyna's bank they now proceed,
To where the river parts. One channel holds
A sluggish, creeping water, under vaults
Of ebon shade, and soporific yew,
The growth of ages on the level line
Of either joyless verge. The satrap here,
Nam'd and presented by his former guide,
A second priest receives, conductor new
Through night-resembling shadows, which obscure
The sleepy stream, unmoving to the sight,
Or moving mute. A fountain they approach,
One of Hercyna's sources. From the pores
Of spongy rock an artificial vase

Of jetty marble in its round collects
The slow-distilling moisture. Hence the priest