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Mix'd with their bowmen, well maintain'd their | The righteous man: “Pausanias, now receive ground.

From Aristides language new, but just.
His own true-levell’d shaft transfix'd the throat Thine is the pride of satraps, not the light
Of Larissean Thorax; who in dust

Ingenuous vanity of Greeks, from sense
Buries at length his Aleuadian pride.

Of freedom, sense of cultivated minds,
Rememb'ring all his charge bold Cimon rears Above the rest of mortals. No; a black,
His mighty spear. Impetuous through a band Barbaric humour festers at thy heart,
Of yielding Phocians he on Theban ranks

Portending usurpation. Know, proud man, Falls like a rapid falcon, when his weight

Thou hast been weigh’d, and long deficient found Precipitates to strike the helpless prey.

By Aristides, thy superior far, Him

slaughter follows ; slaughter from the right Then most superior, when for public good On Æschylus attends, and mightier waits

Compliant most. Thou soon, O! Spartan born, On Aristides. Justice in his breast

Yet in thy country's decency untaught, Awhile was blind to mercy undeservid,

Will like a Persian cast a loathing eye Ev'n unimplor'd, by persevering foes

On freedom, on Lycurgus and his laws, Invet'rate. Now on this empurpled stage

Which gall a mind despotic. I presage Of vengeance due to perfidy and crimes,

Thee dangerous, Pausanias. Where the seeds Twice their own number had the Athenians heap'd of dark ambition I suspect, my eye Of massacred Boeotians; but as Heav'n,

Becomes a jealous centinel; beware, Not to destruction punishing, restrains

Nor force my active vigilance to proof Its anger just, and oft the harden'd spares,

Now or in future, when united Greece, That time may soften, or that suff’rings past, No more defensive, may retaliate war, Not measur'd full, may turn the dread of more Successful war, which prompts aspiring thoughts. To reformation ; Aristides thus

Rest now a safe spectator. From defeat Relenting bade retreat be sounded loud,

Of real warriors, of our fellow Greeks,
Then, by th' obedient host surrounded, spake

Not Persians lightly arm'd in loose array,
Serene : Enough of Grecian blood is spilt, The loiterers of Athens shall with ease
Ye men of Athens; low in dust are laid

Surmount that fence impregnable to thee."
The heads of those who plann'd the fall of Greece. To wait an answer he disdain'd, but maroh'd;
The populace obtuse, resembling you,

While arrogance in secret gnash'd the teeth Enlighten'd people, as the sluggish beast

Of this dark-minded Spartan, doom'd to prove A gen'rous courser, let your pity save

The boding words of Aristides true. In gratitude to Jove, creating yours

The Sun, no longer vertical, began Unlike Baotia's breed-Now form again."

His slant Hesperian progress.

At the head Thus equity and mercy he combin'd,

Of his own host Cecropia's chief began. Like that archangel, authoris'd by Heav'n Enthusiastic flame, without whose aid Chief o'er celestial armies, when the fall'o

The soldier, patriot, and the bard is faint, From purity and faith Eden's bow'rs

At this great crisis thus inspires the man Not to perdition nor despair he left

Of human race the most correct in mind : Abandon'd. Aristides still proceeds :

“ Ye shades of all, who tyrants have expell’d, “ New victories invite you; Sparta long Ye, who repose at Marathon entomb’d, Hath wanted succour; men of Athens, march.” Ye glorious victims, who exalt the name Lo! Menalippus greets in rapid haste

Of Salamis, and manes of the brave
This more than hero. “ I am come,” he said, Leonidas, arise ! Our banners fan
To bring thee tidings of Mardonius slain With your Elysian breath! Thou god supreme,
In open fight. Pausanias still demands

Jove elutherian, send thy child belov'd,
Thy instant presence.” In pursuit he reach'd With her Gorgonian ægis, to defend
The stream. “ Not now that passage is forbid," A people struggling not for spoil, or, pow'r,
Tisamenus exclaim'd. The gen’ral pass'd

Not to extend dominion, but maintain
In vain to force the well-defended camp;

The right of Nature, thy peculiar gift Repuls'd in ev'ry part he dubious stands

To dignify mankind. I lift this prayer, With disappointment sore; on Attic skill

My citizens, in rey'rence, not in doubt To mount entrenchments and a rampart storm Of your success. Ye vanquishers of Greeks, Laconians and Tegæans both depend

Beneath your spears yon servile herd will fall,
To crown the day. Th’ Athenian heard, and cool As corn before the sickle.” With a look
In four divisions separates the host.

Of circumspection he remark'd a swell
Four thousand warriors, light and heavy-arm’d, Of ground not fifty paces from the camp;
Each part compose; whose ensigns o'er the flood Olympiodorus and his bowmen there
In order just are carry'd. He attains

He posted first. “Now, Æschylus,” he said, Th' adjacent field, and joins Pausanias there; “ Construct of solid shields a brazen roof; Whose ravellid brow, and countenance of gloom, In contact close to yonder fence of wood Present a lion's grimness, who, some fold,

Form like the tortoise in his massy shell.” Or stall attempting, thence by vollied stones The archers, each like Phæbus skill'd, remove Of trooping shepherds, and of herdsmen, chas'd, With show'rs of death the thick defendants soon Hath sullenly retreated, thougb oppress'd Clear from the rampart, which in height surpass'd By famine dire. To Aristides spake

Two cubits. Æschylus not slow performs With haughtiness redoubled Sparta's chief: His task. A rank of sixty warriors plac'd

“ Didst thou forget, Athenian, who commands Erect, with cov’ring bucklers o'er their heads, The Grecian armies? Thou hast loiter'd long A brazen platform to the wall unites. Since my two mandates." With majestic warmth The next in order stoop behind; the last

Kneel firm on earth. O'er implicated shields He rode. Still Mindarus, by courage wing'd, A stable passage thus when Cimon sees,

From nation flies to nation, still persists He mounts, and fearless eyes the Asian camp. Exhorting; though in hopeless thought he sees Between the rampart's basis and the foe

Great Hyperanthes from the shades ascend, An empty space observing, on the ground

And seems to hear the godlike phantom sigh His spear he fixes, and amidst a storm

In mournful words like these: " Ah! fruitless toil! Of clatt'ring javelins, arrows, darts, and stones, As once was mine, to rescue from despair Swings down. So, shooting from the sulph'rous lap The panic fears of Asia ! Dead in mind, Of some dark-vested cloud, a globe of fire

Her host already soon dead clay must lie, Through winds and rain precipitates a blaze Like me on Eta's rock.” Yet Midias brave, Terrific down the raven pall of night.

With Tiridates rous'd, their efforts join. His whole division follows; with his band

Against them warlike Medon, and the seed Myronides, and Æschylus, releas'd

Of Lygdamis, chance brings. They side by side, From his first care. Successively they range. As heretofore Thermopylæ beheld The very fence, by Persian toil uprais'd,

Young Dithyrambus aud Diomedon, Now from the Persian multitude secures

Had all the day their unresisted wedge Th’ Athenian near. No obstacle remains

Of Locrian shields and Delphian led to deeds, To Aristides, who completes his plan.

Accumulating trophies. Midias falls Olympiodorus and his active train

By Haliartus. From the slain his lance With axes keen, and cleaving spades, approach ; Recov'ring, tow'rds his

patron dear he turns ; Hewn down, uptorn in that surmounted part, Him conqu’ror too of Tiridates views The fall’n defences, and the levellid ground, In joy; joy soon to sorrow chang'd! Fate guides Soon leave an op'ning wide. His strong reserve, A casual weapon from a distant hand; Eight thousand light, two thousand heavy-arm’d, Such as at Ramoth from the Syrian bow, With Haliartus, and Oileus' son,

Drawn at a venture, smote between the joints Cecropia's chief leads forward to sustain

Of harness strong the Israelitish king, His first bold warriors. Chileus enters next Who from the fight bade wheel his chariot, stain'd With his Tegæans, Aemnestus brave,

With his own crimson. Ponderous and broad Pausanias, Amompharetus, the youth

The hostile lance inflicts a mortal wound Of Menalippus, all the Spartan host.

In Medon's gen'rous bosom. Not a sigh Seven Grecian myriads through the breach invade He breathes, in look still placid and sedate, A ground, with swarms of tents and men oppressid. While death's cold moisture stagnates on his limbs, Dire thus th' irruption of Germanic seas

By all their pow'rs forsaken. “ Bear," he said Through strong Batavian mounds; th’inflated brine To Haliartus, “ bear me from the camp, Stupendous piles of long-resisting weight

Nor yet extract the weapon; life, I feel, Bears down, and, baffling strength and art combin'd, Would follow swift, and Medon hath a charge Foams o'er a country in its seat profound

Yet to deliver.” Soinc pathetic Muse, Below the surface of th' endang'ring main ; In tend'rest measures give these numbers flow A country, where frugality and toil

Let thine, who plaintive on the pontic verge No spot leave waste, no meadow, but in herds In servitude Sarmatian, through her page Redundant; where the num'rous dwellings show Of sorrows weeps thy banishment from Rome; Simplicity but plenty, now immers'd

Or thine, Euripides, whose moral strains With all their throng'd inhabitants beneath Melt sympathy in tears at human woes, Th’ unsparing deluge. Aristides swift,

Thy vary'd tragic themes, or both unite As if by gen'ral choice the chief supreme,

Your inspiration to describe a heart, Commandment issues, that to either side

Where gratitude o'er all affections dear The host extend, that, skirted by the fence, Predominantly sway'd; the faithful heart With wheeling flanks in front the line assume Of Haliartus at this sudden stroke A crescent's figure. Thus the fisher skill'd Of direful chance. To death is Medon snatch'd, With his capacious seines, slow-dragg’d and press'd From glory snatch'd amid victorious friends. Close on each bank, a river's whole expanse The Carian's bosom instant feels combin'd With all its natives glossy-finn'd involves.

Achilles' anguish at Patroclus dead, Yet Mindarns, with Mede and Persian ranks, The pang of Priam at the fall of Troy, A large remainder from the morning fight, Ev'n woman's grief, Andromache's distress Resists, which soon are slaughter'd; he retreats For her slain Hector, and his mother's pain Among the tents, whose multitude impedes To see his mangled and dishonourd corse. The Grecians. Aristides straight commands, Great Artemisia's name, th' illustrious blood That from the heavy line's disjointed length Prom Lygdamis deriv'd, his own exploits A bundred bands expatiate in the chase

Of recent fame, are all eras'd from thought Of foes benumb'd by fear, who neither fight, In Haliartus now; who sinks again Nor Ay, of means depriv'd. The carnage grows To Melibcus. On the wounded chief, In every quarter. Fountains seem unclosa, As on his lord, his patron, still he looks Whence rivulets of blood o'erflow the ground. With all th' affection of a menial, bred O'er satraps, potentates, and princes fall'n, Iu the same home, and cherish'd in that home Strode Aristides, first of men, of Heav'n

With lib'ral kindness to his humbler state. The imitator in his civil deeds,

He clasps the fainting hero, on the shields Now some faint semblance, far as mortal may Of weeping friends deposits, and conveys Of that Almighty victor on the field

Swift through a portal, from its hinges forc'd. Ethereal, when o'er belms, and helmed heads Three hours remain’d to Phoebus in his course. Di prostrate seraphim, and powers o'erthrown, Close by the entrenchment, under beachen shade

Of ancient growth, a fountain bursts in rilis The Carian brave, not less than Phoebus cheer'd
Transparent; thither on the down of moss

The, languid son of Priam on the bank
Was Medon borne and laid. “ Unloose," he said, Of Xanthus; when a stony mass, of weight
“ My helm, and fill from that refreshing stream." To stay a keel on Hellespontine sands,
Obey'd, he drank a part; then pouring down By Ajax hurld, benumb'd the Trojan's frame.

The remnant, spake: “ By this libation clear Thus Haliartus: “ Through that open gate,
Be testified my thanks all the gods,

New forc'd, the shortest, safest passage lies; That I have liv'd to see my country sav'd

But, to acquire some lustre, I can show On this victorious day. My fate requires Another track for prowess yet to shine." No lamentation, Haljartus dear,

He leads, all follow, save Corinthian bands Oh! more than kindred dear. Commend me first With Adimantus, hast'ning through the gate, To Aristides; Medon's parting breath

Soon as to him th' intelligence is brought; Him victor hails. To Delphi's virtuous priest, Who ent'ring, sees a carnage which confounds To my Leonteus, to the glorious son

A timid spirit. By Alcmæon urg'd, Of Neocles, my salutation bear,

Close by the fence he marches; none he meets To kind Cleander, my Træzenian host,

But fly before him. Adimantus lifts
To Hyacinthus of Euboea's race,

His spear, and satiates cowardice with blood
The flower of all her chieftains : they have prov'd Of unresisting men. By cheap success
In me some zeal their island to redeem.

Betray'd, a distant quarter he attains,
Transport my ashes to Melissa's care,

Where Mindarus confronts him. From his steed Them near the relics of Laconia's king

Th' unyielding satrap whirls a rapid lance, Repose ; be mine the neighbour of his urn." Which nails the base Corinthian to the ground. Here with an utmost effort of his voice,

Alcmæon next is wounded ; more had bled, With arms extended, and Elysian look:

But Aristides o'er that part, devoid “ Leonidas, the life thy friendship sav'd, Of tents, his dreadful crescent in array An off'ring to thy manes, now I close

Is forming new. The Persian starts; he flies Mature in age, to glory not unknown,

To one last angle of the spacious camp, Above the wish, as destitute of hope

Sole spot unforc'd. Half circled now in front, To find a fairer time, or better cause,

The Attic, Spartan, and Tegæan ranks, Than sends me now a messenger to greet

In motion slow, yet moving on, augment Thee with glad tidings of this land preserv'd.” Progressively their terrours, like a range

With his own hand the javelin from his breast Of clouds, which thicken on the brow of night, He draws serene; life issues through the wound. A final wreck portending to a fleet,

New shouts, new trumpets, waken from a trance Already shatter'd by the morning storm. Of grief the son of Lygdamis

. He sees

Round Mindarus the remnant of his host Cleander; who th’ Asopian banks had pass'd, Collected still is numerous. Them he sees Callid by Sicinus from Saturnia's dome.

Oft look behind, a sight that ill accords Lo! Epidaurian Clitophon, the ranks

With warriors; but, as now in columns deep Of Phlius with Menander, Sicyon's chief

Its glitt'ring horns that direful crescent shows Automedon, the Hermionean spears

Within the limits of a javelin's cast, With Lycus follow, Cephallene's sons,

All turn intent on flight at large; they break The Acarnanian, all th’ Epirot bands,

Their own enclosure down, whose late defence Leprean Conon, with Mycenæ's youth

Is present bane, and intercepts escape. Polydamas, by Arimnestus led

Lo! Haliartus; all whose grief is chang'd The brave Platæans, with his Thespian files To fire, heroic flame. Three myriads fresh Alcimedon, Nearchus with his force

He pours; that crowded angle he invests, Of Chalcis, Potidæan Tydeus next,

Preventing flight. Cleander looks around Eretrian Cleon, Lampon, and the troop

Like some tornado menacing a bark, Of little Styra, Corinth's banners last,

Which soon unseam'd and parted sinks ingulfid; By Adimantus and Alcmæon rang'd.

He finds a breach and with him enters death. “ Too late you come for glory,” them bespake The long-enduring satrap, whose mild soul The Carian sad : “ Lo! half the foes destroy'd Calamity bath worn, resembles now By Aristides, fugitives the rest;

The poor desponding sailor, who is left
Lo! there the only loss, which Greece sustains.” Last of the found'ring vessel on a plank
To him Cleander, with devout regret

Alone. No coast appears; the greedy swell
O'er Medon, honour'd paranymph and guest, He sees around, expecting ev'ry wave
His head inclining: “Not too late we come Will terminate his being, and forgoes
For sacrifice of Persians to the ghost

All bope of succour. His afflicted soul
Of this dead hero. Ah! what floods of tears Thus with an effort equal to his rank
Will fall in Trezen— But let grief prevail The prince explores: “ What, Mindarus, remains
Hereafter. Son of Lygdamis, renounce

For thee deserted ! In another's home Despondency; Acanthe still survives

Cleora dwells; Masistius is no more; To fire thy breast as Ariphilia mine ;

Slain is Mardonius, Asia's glory fall'u; I hear her prompting my vindictive arm.

Thou hast too long been fugitive this day; From thy experience of this glorious day

Like Teribazus close a term of woe; Lead thy Treezen an host, where best to point Like him in death be honour'd.” He dismounts, His strenuous efforts. Let thy guiding zeal He grasps a spear. Such dignity of shame For me, long cursing my inactive post,

To Ilian Hector, from his fight recall’d, Yet find one track to fame.”. These gallant words Great Homer's Muse imparted. While the prince Of cordial frankness from dejection lift

Is meditating thus, a man sublime

Tow'rs from th’ Athenians, who suspend their Mardonius prais'd, and all mankind reveres, Unlike the son of Peleus in his ire [march; Forebodes a change of fortune to my gain ! Implacable, he represents a god

Thy condescending wisdom, o supreme In aspect, god of mercy, not of arms.

In justice, knowledge, and benignant deeds, “Know, chieftain,” he began," to me the Greeks May lift a man of sorrows from despair !" One Persian life have granted; it is thine.

He yields. Th’Athenian leads him through the In this day's trial I have noted well

Secure ; himself a spectacle avoids, (press Thy constancy and manhood; I, who prize Which others covet. Lo! on ev'ry side The gems of virtue, in whatever clime,

Keen swords of massacre are way'd. To maids O Persian! whether in a friend or foe

Deflow'r'd, dishonour'd wives, and gods profan'd, Their never-changing lustre they display; To Athens, Thespia, and Platæa burnt, I, Aristides, my protecting arm

The Greeks complete their sacrifice. The Sun, Extend. Time presses; yield thee, ere too late; Wont on those fields of glist'ning green to smile, Captivity no burden shalt thou find,

And trace Asopus through his crystal maze, Till safe, without a ransom, thou regain

Now setting, glances over lakes of blood; Thy native seat." The Persian melts like snow While fate with Persian carnage chafes the stream, In all its rigour at the noon-tide Sun.

No longer smooth and limpid, but o'erswoln, This unforeseen, humane demeanour calms And foaming purple, with increasing heaps His mind, and hushes ev'ry desp'rate thought. Of carcasses and arms. Night drops her shade He thus replies: “On all my actions past On thirty myriads slaughter'd. Thus thy death, Hath fortune frown'd; perhaps a captive state

Leonidas of Sparta, was aveng'd, With Aristides, whom Masistius lov'd,

Greece thus by Attic virtue was preserv'd.

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THE

POEMS

OF

WILLIAM WHITEHEAD.

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