The Athenaid: Volume Ii: Book The Nineteenth Poem by Richard Glover

The morning breaks; Nicanor sudden greets
The gen'ral; welcome tidings in these words
He utters loud: The citadel is won,
The tyrant slaughter'd. With our sacred guide
A rugged, winding track, in brambles hid,
Half up a crag we climb'd; there, stooping low,
A narrow cleft we enter'd; mazy still
We trod through dusky bowels of a rock,
While our conductor gather'd, as he stepp'd,
A clue, which careful in his hand he coil'd.
Our spears we trail'd; each soldier held the skirt
Of his preceding comrade. We attain'd
An iron wicket, where the ending line
Was fasten'd; thence a long and steep ascent
Was hewn in steps; suspended on the sides,
Bright rows of tapers cheer'd our eyes with light.
We reach'd the top; there lifting o'er his head
A staff, against two horizontal valves
Our leader smote, which open'd at the sound.
Behind me Hyacinthus on the rock
Sunk sudden down, pronouncing in his fall
Cleora; I on Hyacinthus call'd.


Is this Cleora's husband? cried the priest;
Descend, my Pamphila, my wife, descend.


She came, a rev'rend priestess; tender both
With me assisting plac'd my speechless friend
Within a cleft by me unmark'd before,
Which seem'd a passage to some devious cell.
Me by the hand Elephenor remov'd
Precipitate; a grating door of brass
Clos'd on my parting steps. Ascend, he said,
Make no enquiry; but remain assur'd,
His absence now is best. I mount, I rise
Behind a massy basis which upheld
Jove grasping thunder, and Saturnia crown'd,
Who at his side outstretch'd her scepter'd hand.
The troops succeeding fill the spacious dome.
Last, unexpected, thence more welcome, rose,
Detach'd from Medon with five hundred spears,
Brave Haliartus, who repair'd the want
Of my disabled colleague. Now the priest:


Ye chiefs, auxiliar to the gods profan'd,
And men oppress'd, securely you have reach'd
The citadel of Oreus. The dark hour
Befriends your high attempt. Let one possess
The only entrance from the town below,
The other swift the palace must surprise,
Where Demonax lies slumb'ring, if his guilt
Admits of rest, and dreams not of your spears.


With small resistance from a drowsy guard
I seiz'd the gate; the palace soon was forc'd
By Haliartus. Demonax maintain'd,
From door to door fierce combat, till he sunk,
Blaspheming ev'ry pow'r of heav'n and hell,
On his own couch, beneath repeated wounds
Delv'd in his body by the Carian sword,
Whose point produc'd the sever'd head in view.


These news, Sicinus, to Eudora bear,
Themistocles began. Before her feet
Fall grateful, kiss for me her hallow'd robe;
My venerable friend Tisander hail,
To her, to him, this victory we owe.
Salute Timoxenus, my noble host,
Greet his excelling daughter; let them hear
Of brave Nicanor, and the Carian sword,
Which, closing at a blow this dang'rous war,
Preserves so many Greeks. Carystian chief,
Accept from me good tidings in return
For thine. Intelligence this hour hath brought,
That vigilant Cleander hath possess'd
The naval fort, an inlet to the town
For this whole army, pouring from our ships
Successive numbers, if the Persian bands
Yet meditate resistance. Not to give
Their consternation leisure to subside,
Against the walls each standard shall advance.


He said, and gave command. The diff'rent chiefs
Head their battalions. Oreus trembling sees
Encircling danger; heralds in their pomp,
Dread summoners, are nigh. Her foreign guard,
Depriv'd of wonted leaders, at the fall
Of Demonax aghast, in thought behold
Death in the conquer'd citadel extend
His hideous arms to beckon from the fleet
Cleander's valour, and from swarming tents
Themistocles. On his approach the gates
Are thrown abroad. From all the Persian bands
Their javelins, shields, and banners on the ground
Pale fear deposits. Thus the yielding masts
Of all their canvass mariners divest,
When Æolus is riding on a storm
To overwhelm the vessel, which would drive
In full apparel to resist his ire.


Th' Athenian, though triumphant, in his joy
Omits no care. To Æschylus awhile
The charge supreme transferring, he ascends
The citadel; the Catian victor there
Conducts him o'er the palace, shews the corse
Of Demonax, his treasury unspoil'd,
By chosen Locrians guarded. Pleas'd, the chief
Embraces Haliartus: Friend, he said,
Though late acquir'd, inestimable friend,
How shall I praise thee? but my bosom wrapt
In long concealment, now to thee alone
Disclos'd, shall warrant my profess'd regard.
Know, that whatever thou hast heard, or seen
Of my Euboean labours, are no more,
Than preparation for a wider stage
Of action. Gold, one necessary means,
Thou hast provided; but I want a man
Of hardy limbs and vig'rous, bold, discreet,
Who all the Persian quarters would explore,
On either side Thermopylæ; would trace
Whate'er employs Mardonius, what the time
He takes the field, and where his gather'd stores
Of war deposits. Thessaly provok'd
Long since my just resentment. Ere the king
Of Asia pass'd the Hellespont, I led
Ten thousand Greeks her passes to defend;
By her deserted and betray'd, I march'd
Unprofitably back. The Carian here:


Had I endowments equal to my will,
I were that man. Accept me, as I am,
Vers'd in those borders, me, whose faithful zeal
Leonidas experienc'd and approv'd;
So let Themistocles. My rustic weeds
I can resume to range th' OEtæan crags,
The fields of Locris, and Thessalia's plains.


Thou art that man, th' Athenian quick rejoin'd;
Then hold thee ready. Sudden in their birth
Are my resolves, and when mature have wings.


This said, he visits Æschylus below.
Judicious he in stations had dispos'd
The various bands; the pris'ners were secur'd.
Throughout th' Orean streets and dwellings reign'd
Tranquillity and order. Him the son
Of Neocles bespake: To-morrow's dawn
Shall see thee honour'd, as becomes a chief,
Whom Aristides nam'd, and Athens chose
To save Euboea. I defer till night
Our consultations. I, not wanted here,
Will reascend the citadel; the voice
Of friendship calls me to a tender care.


He seeks the fane. Elephenor he greets;
Applause to him in gratitude unfeign'd
Presenting, next his earnest lips enquire
Of Hyacinthus. Here the rev'rend man:


First know, his dear Cleora is alive.
I, priest of Jove, and Pamphila my wife,
Who to th' Olympian empress in this feat
Of blended rites are ministers, when told
That Demonax had doom'd his child to death,
Solicited her pardon in the names
Of both divinities. At both he spurn'd,
While we contriv'd this stratagem. Her nurse,
By us admonish'd, in due time declar'd
Cleora dead. The body of a slave,
A youthful maiden recently expir'd,
Was for Cleora carried to the flames,
While her we shelter'd in a secret cell,
From human sight, from sight of day conceal'd.
These pow'rs, alike offended at th' intent
As perpetration of an impious deed,
Have sent thee forth their instrument of wrath,
Divinely-prompted hero. Wilt thou shed
On Hyacinthus and Cleora's bliss
Thy guardian smile? This utter'd, down the steps
He guides th' Athenian to the hidden cell.


By his Cleora Hyacinthus sat.
The youthful husband o'er the snowy breast,
Which lull'd and cherish'd a reposing babe,
The blooming father o'er that precious fruit
Hung fondly. Thoughtful ecstasy recall'd
His dream at Juno's temple; where he saw
The visionary bosom of his bride
Disclose maternal to an infant new
That pillow smooth of lillies. Wan her cheek
Told her confinement from the cheerful day.
Six moons in deep obscurity she dwelt;
Where, as a sea-nymph underneath a rock,
Or Indian genie in the cavern'd earth,
Her cell in conchs and coral she had dress'd,
By gracious Pamphila supply'd to cheat
Time and despair. The loom her patient art
Had plied, her own sad story had begun,
Now to conclude in joy. The starting youth
Beholds his patron, rushes on his breast
In transport thus: Redeemer of my peace!
Balm of my grief! of happiness my source!
My health of mind and body is thy gift.
If in his anguish Hyacinthus felt
His obligation, in the hour of bliss
To what excess must gratitude expand
His bosom now! Cleora and my child
I owe to thy protection-this is she,
This is my goddess, this my light, my joy,
Deriv'd from thy humanity. Thou god
Of Hyacinthus, tutelary god!
Thou from the pit of horror didst upraise
My limbs, for ever to its bottom chain'd
Without thy helpful hand; without thee death
Had been my portion; never had I liv'd
To see Cleora, never known this day!
But will my gen'ral overlook my fault?
Thy soldier, in his subterranean march
Tow'rds this retirement, threw a casual glance,
Which met Cleora's. Down the shield and spear
Dropp'd from my hands disabled; life forsook
My heart, which irrecoverably lost
All sense of duty both to thee and Greece,
By me alone deserted. Bless that chance,
Themistocles replies, and leads aside
Th' attentive youth. Perhaps these gods ordain'd,
In compensation of thy long distress,
In recompense of pure and constant love,
That to Cleora thou unstain'd with blood,
Blood of her father by another slain,
Shouldst be restor'd, nor taint with horrors new
This thy new hymen. Æschylus by morn
Will sit in judgment righteous, but severe,
On each Euboean criminal, the dead
Not less than living. Instantly remove
To thy Carystian home thy wife and babe;
Whate'er can pass in Oreus must offend
Her eye and ear. Then turning to the fair:
From warlike toils thy consort I dismiss;
He, who so nobly signaliz'd his sword
In single combat, and the open field,
And prov'd his valour equal to his love,
All future palms to others may resign.
Whatever comforts, time and peace can yield,
Are due to both your suff'rings; nor an hour
Shalt thou be cloister'd in this rueful cell.
Elephenor, discreet and rev'rend man,
Let thy kind clue conduct their secret steps.
With presents laden, tokens of my love,
Cars shall attend them at the cavern's mouth;
Thou add thy blessing, that their new-born day
May never set in sorrow. Thus the chief,
Relax'd from busy care, amid success,
Which not a shade of obstacle o'erhangs,
Spake, as he felt, remunerating full
For all his service Hyacinthus brave.


His knees embracing, thus Cleora spake:
I have not utt'rance for my grateful heart;
If thou dismiss us never more to see
Thy guardian face, our day will set in grief.


In smiles th' Athenian dissipates that fear:
Long ere thy husband's magisterial term
Is finish'd, I have further still to crave
From him as archon, not as soldier, help.
This to Carystus would alone direct
My footsteps; else amid domestic joys
To see thy days illumin'd, precious time
Themistocles would borrow from his charge.


Thus in the grateful fair-one he secur'd
Another friend, if wanted to support
His vast designs, which, gath'ring on his mind,
Speed his departure with a kind farewell.


The cars he orders, from the tyrant's stores
Rich presents draws, to Æschylus returns,
With him in conf'rence spends remaining day.
Aurora hears Themistocles command
Stern proclamation by the trumpet's voice
For judgment on the guilty. All in chains
The tyrant's hated counsellors are brought,
Save Lamachus by faith of treaty safe
Bound to Thessalian shores; but chief the sev'n
Geræstian ruffians, their assassin heads
Hang hopeless down. Amid the widest space
In Oreus lofty a tribunal stands,
Which Æschylus ascends, commander high
Of troops enroll'd by Athens. So her son
Disgrac'd, but courting favour new, devis'd
Her democratic jealousy to sooth.
The various chieftains, through this glorious war
So late distinguish'd, round the solemn seat
Conspicuous wait, Themistocles himself
At the right hand of Æschylus. He sits
Like Minos sage, whose justice gain'd from Jove
Th' appointment awful to condemn, or spare
His fellow mortals in the world below.
When now th' accusers and accus'd were heard,
Thus spake the warrior-poet: Crimes like these
The legislator punishes with death;
Let us attempt within our scanty sphere,
Far as we may, to imitate the gods
In punishment deserv'd. Through those abodes
Which Hades governs, long the vulture gnaws;
Long is the toil of Sisyphus; to fill
Their leaking vases long the murd'rous seed
Of Danaus must strive. By labour, pain,
And shame continu'd, let flagitious men
Long wish to end their suff'rings, not enjoy
That wish'd-for period in a single pang.
This heavy sentence on assassin heads,
On foul atrocious counsellors of ill,
Lo! I pronounce. An ignominious brand
Imprint on every forehead; plunge them chain'd,
Debas'd by vile impurity of garb,
In deep Chalcidian quarries; give them food
Just for endurance of continued toil,
With daily stripes, that cruelty may feel
What she inflicts on others, and, impell'd
By desperation, court relief in death.
Before the gate of Oreus on a cross
Extend the limbs of Demonax; the flesh
Let kites deform, let parching air the bones
Of that despotic malefactor bleach,
Avenging man, and vindicating heav'n.
Flow next a strain more pleasing through the ear,
A strain delightful to that fav'ring god
Who first created laurel to adorn
The good and brave. A chaplet from his tree,
Ten captives, ten selected suits of arms
To ev'ry leader; one Barbarian slave,
A sabre, targe, whatever to the field
Accouters one Barbarian, I allot
To ev'ry soldier. Phoebus will supply
His laurel too, encompassing your brows,
Ye gen'rous people. But a splendid store
Of tripods, urns, and images provide
For great Eudora, and th' Eretrian seer,
That your triumphal off'ring may emblaze
Euboea's fanes; nor less with honours greet
Elephenor, your genius of success.
Eudora's portion thou, heroic priest,
Phoebean Timon, to her presence bear.
I need but name Acanthè to attract
Your veneration; for Acanthè chuse,
Sweet paragon of Chalcis, from your spoils
The costly tissue of Barbaric looms,
And dazzling gems, that gratitude may vie
With obligation. Haliartus, bright
In recent glories from a tyrant slain,
Thou at her feet the precious tribute lay.
For me, if, servant of Cecropia's state,
I have upheld her justice and renown,
Your approbation is the sole reward
Which I solicit, or will bear away
On my returning keel. He ceas'd. In roar
Surpassing waves, which beat the craggy strand
Amidst a tempest, from the gen'ral host
Broke forth applause. Themistocles subjoin'd:


Awhile, my friends, your labours I suspend;
Go to your homes; to kind, expecting wives
Recount your trophies; let your children see
Paternal mansions hung with Asian spòils.
Remember still, that valour must not sleep;
That law restor'd and freedom are not firm
While Asia's trumpet sounds a blast in Greece.


Two days elapse; Timoxenus, arriv'd
From Chalcis, joyful gratulation brings.
Solicitous th' Athenian first enquires
Of fair Acanthè's state. The father fond
Thus answers: Wasting malady is fled,
But hath behind it left indiff'rence cold
To ev'ry joy. Thy wife a bracelet sent;
These words the bearer Haliartus brought,
Charg'd by Timothea elegant and wise.
'From me this present when Acanthè takes,
'Say, how I prize her elevated mind,
'Enabling my Themistocles to quell
'The hateful breed of tyrants. Further say,
'The man engaging her connubial hand
'I should esteem the favorite of heav'n.'
I heard approving; on the grateful hint
A secret hour I chose; my daughter's ear
I thus address'd. 'My only child and hope,
'Shall no sweet offspring cheer a grandsire's age?
'Shall my possessions to a stranger pass,
'My blood be lost for ever? Shall this war,
'Thy work, Acanthè, which a father's love,
'In all to thee complying, at thy suit
'Commenc'd, produce no hero to console
'Thy widow'd couch?' 'The sacrifice of life,
'Of my ideal, or my real peace,
'Is due to such a father,' she exclaim'd
In pious fervour. 'Arguments to urge
'Against thy plea my age and thine forbid;
'But ah! dear parent, my capricious fate
'Presents no suitor to thy child's esteem.'
The Amarynthian priestess, whose controul
Surpasses mine, with sternness oft enforc'd
My just desire. At length my daughter thus
On my departure: 'I obey; consult
'Themistocles; let him a consort name,
'Who best hath serv'd him in this righteous war.'


Ne'er yet ill chance, or sorrow, from the son
Of Neocles drew tears. His soul reflects
On this transcendent fair one, who had chang'd
The violence of passion to respect
So confidential, dress'd in sweetest grace
So far beyond his merits tow'rds a heart
Of purest texture, late by him misled
To error, now to purity restor'd
By native honour. At th' affecting thought
He turns those eyes, till then of stedfast look
On all events and objects, turns aside
To hide their oozing dews; yet soon he spake:


None can I name, but wise Timothea's choice
To bear her present, Haliartus brave,
Who hath avow'd to Æschylus and me
A veneration for thy matchless child;
But he, appointed to a service high,
Like Hercules must labour yet to gain
The sum of bliss. For three successive moons
He must continue mine. The past events
In copious strains the hero now rehears'd,
Concluding thus: The army I disband;
Great Æschylus for Athens straight embarks;
I shall remain in Oreus to compose
This troubled city; thou resume thy way;
The criminals transported in thy train
Lock in the quarries; to Acanthè all
Unravel; her and Chalcis too prepare
For due reception of that happy man,
Whom Jove hath honour'd in a tyrant's death,
Whom Juno soon in nuptial ties will bless,
And all Euboea to Acanthè sends
With tokens rich of public praise and love.


With joy Timoxenus assents; the morn
Sees him depart; at Chalcis he arrives,
Performing all Themistocles enjoin'd.
Now ev'ry temple breathes perfumes; prepar'd
Are chosen victims, colonnades and gates
With chaplets hung; the garden's flow'ry growth,
Each scented produce of luxuriant fields,
The maids and matrons bear to welcome home
Triumphant warriors. Now th' expected gleams
Of armour tinge the champaign's utmost verge;
Near and more near the military pomp,
At large develop'd o'er the green expanse,
Spears, bucklers, helmets, plumes, Barbaric spoils
In trophies pil'd on hollow-sounding cars,
Grow on the sight. Through Chalcis lies the march;
Those in abode the most remote precede.


Geræstian banners first Eudemus shews;
With Lampon follow Styra's gallant troop;
The Amarynthian and Carystian bands
Nicanor leads; th' Eretrians, now become
Once more a people, with their wives and race
At length redeem'd, to Cleon's orders move.
In blooming garlands had the mothers deck'd
Their children's heads, whom, tripping through the streets,
Spectatress equal to the loftiest scene,
Eudora blesses. Sweet Acanthè melts
In tears of gladness, while her father nigh
Awakes attention to a num'rous train,
Her native friends, whom brave Nearchus heads.


These are thy warriors, fondly cries the sire;
To whom Eudora: Who is he in state
Pontifical, a holy man in arms?


Three hundred Delphians then were passing by,
Phoebean branches twisted round their spears.
Behind them, lodg'd on axles rolling slow,
Were vases, tripods, images and busts,
Spoils of the palace Demonax had rais'd.


Thou seest, replies Timoxenus, a form
To Phoebus dear, the venerable form
Of Timon, priest and soldier. From that car
He will descend to kiss thy sacred hand,
Before thy feet a precious tribute lay
For thy pure goddess, sister of his god.
But look, my sweet Acanthè, on the man
Themistocles hath chosen to revive
My drooping years. Preceded by a troop
Of youths, whom Medon, ever kind, hath cull'd
From all his Locrian files to grace his friend;
Preceded by a trophy, which displays
The silver mail of Demonax, his shield,
His helm of gold, his variegated arms,
And spear in length ten cubits, which upholds
The tyrant's head, his victor meets our eyes,
Th' illustrious son of Lygdamis. She cast
Not an impassion'd, but revering glance
On one, whose might victorious had dissolv'd
Euboean thraldom, one of noble frame,
In feature comely, and in look serene,
Whom her sole guide, the all controlling son
Of Neocles, had destin'd for her lord.
Her dream recurs; the tyrant's head she sees;
Th' exploit sublime, though not by him achiev'd,
Whom partial fancy on her pillow shew'd,
Her ever-wakeful loftiness of mind
Admires impartial, and applauds the hand
Which dealt the glorious blow. Her awful brow
The priestess softens to a smile, and thus:


Is this the suitor, whom my hero chose
For bright Acanthè? Favour'd by the gods,
Themistocles in ev'ry action proves
He cannot err. Acanthè hears, and press'd
By duty's insurmountable controul,
Aw'd by Eudora's majesty austere,
Resolves to meet him with becoming grace,
But of his virtue make one trial more.


The Delphian priest and Haliartus quit
Their chariots; them Timoxenus receives
To his rich mansion and a sumptuous board.
Eudora there, with curious eyes and voice,
Explores and questions oft the Carian brave.
His Delphian friend, observing, in these words
Besought him: O, distinguish'd by the gods!
Who have in thee their care of virtue shewn,
Since from Euboea thou must soon depart,
Lose not the present hour. These matchless dames
Must hear thy wond'rous narrative at large;
For singular thy fortunes with events
Are interwoven to delight the ear,
Affect the heart, and win th' applauding tongue;
That all may honour thy desert supreme
Like me, so much thy debtor. Straight complies
The modest Carian; list'ning silence reigns.


In native windings from his Lydian fount
As various flow'd Mæander, here along
A level champaign, daisy-painted meads,
Or golden fields of Ceres, here through woods
In green arcades projecting o'er his banks,
There shut in rock, which irritates the stream,
Here by low hamlets, there by stately towns,
Till he attained the rich Magnesian seat;
Thence with augmented fame and prouder floods
Roll'd down his plenteous tribute to the main:
So through the mazes of his fortune winds
In artless eloquence th' expressive strain
Of Haliartus, from his peasant state
To scenes heroic. Humble still in mind,
Compell'd to follow truth's historic clue,
He ends in glory, which his blushes grace;
Nor less they grace these frank and manly words,
Which to Acanthè singly he directs:


Such as I am, thou elevated fair,
Who hast Euboea's liberty restor'd,
Her grateful off'rings to thy feet I bring;
With them an humble suppliant to thy smile,
That he may rank thy soldier, in thy name
His own distinguish, and, achieving well
The task by great Themistocles impos'd,
Deserve Acanthè's favour. She replies
With virtuous art: Can soldiers never know
Satiety of fame? must her career
Be still beginning, never be complete?
Must ev'ry passion yield to thirst of praise?
Should I request thee, wouldst thou for my sake
Thy new attempt relinquish, to enjoy
Thy ample portion of acquir'd renown
In peace at Chalcis? Haliartus then:


Not love of fame, which oft'ner frowns than smiles,
Not victory, nor spoil inflate my breast
All unaspiring. Sense of duty pure,
Of obligation, which I owe to Greece,
Themistocles, and Medon, rules supreme
Within my soul. O first of mortal fair,
Thou of his peace thy servant might'st deprive;
But, wert thou fairer than the Paphian queen,
In each excelling art like Pallas skill'd,
Her paragon in wisdom, thy request
Should thus be answer'd from a bleeding heart:
To my performance of the trust repos'd
The only bar is fate. Astonish'd gaz'd
Timoxenus; nor knew the timid sire
That his Acanthè's breast then first conceiv'd
A spark of passion, but a spark divine,
Such as for heroes goddesses have felt;
As Thetis glow'd for Peleus. Thus the fair:


O most deserving of that hero's choice,
To which alone Acanthè left her fate!
Weigh'd in the balance, nor deficient found,
Thou more than worthy of a hand like mine!
Go, but return; triumphantly return
Lord of Acanthè; of my truth unchang'd
Accept this pledge. She gave, he kiss'd her hand.
Eudora's vestment, while the solemn scene
Her looks approv'd, with fervent lips he touch'd;
Then, clasping glad Timoxenus, retir'd
To hoist his canvass in the morning gale.


\End of the Nineteenth Book