The Athenaid: Volume Iii: Book The Twenty-Fifth Poem by Richard Glover

Ere thus each augur in the diff'rent camps
Unmann'd the soldier by religious dread,
Euboea's coast Sicinus had regain'd.
That peopled island's force of ships and arms
Themistocles had muster'd. Oreus held
The ready chief, expecting weighty news
From Aristides, which Sicinus swift
Imparts. To him Themistocles: My friend,
I ask no more; the assembled host of Greece
Hath fix'd Mardonius on th' Asopian verge;
A hasty conflict Aristides shuns;
Then shall the blow, I meditate, be struck,
Ere thy reverted passage can transmit
To him my greetings. Stay and see my oars
For infamous Thessalia dash the waves;
Her Aleuadian race of tyrants foul,
Friends to Barbarians, traitors to the Greeks,
Shall feel my scourge. Her plenty I will bar
Against Mardonius; famine shall invade
His tents, and force him to unequal fight.


He gives command; the signal is uprear'd
For embarkation. All Euboea pours
Her sons aboard, and loads the groaning decks.
From his Cleora Hyacinthus parts,
Brave Haliartus from his new-espous'd
Acanthè. Lo! each female seeks the beach,
Spectatress eager of th' alluring man,
Whose artful eye could summon ev'ry grace
To fascinate both sexes, and his wiles
Arm with enchantment. Beauteous and august
Like Cybelè, prime goddess, turret-crown'd,
Source of th' ethereal race, his consort lifts
Above the rest her countenance sublime.
By her own offspring, and the pledges dear
Of Aristides, which her hand receiv'd
At Salamis, and cherish'd like her own,
She stands encircled, her embarking lord
Accosting thus: Unfavourable winds,
Or fortune's frown I fear not. All the gods
Of earth and ocean, who delighted view
The virtuous brave, contending for their laws
With lawless tyrants, will combine to bless
Themistocles and Aristides link'd
In harmony of counsels. See, dear lord,
His and thy children interweave their hands;
Thy sure success I augur from their smiles.


I from Timothea's, gallantly replies
The parting chief. This union is thy work;
Thine be the praise from thankful Greece preserv'd.


He said, and lightly to his vessel pass'd;
While ev'ry sail was op'ning to the wind.


Euboea, where she fronts the Malian shore,
Beneath a promontory's quiet lee
Protects the fleet benighted. Here the son
Of Neocles aboard his galley calls
His pupil Hyacinthus, whom he thus
Instructs: Young hero, since Cleora's love
Could not detain thee from the lists of fame,
Fame thou shalt win. Thessalia's nearest bounds
I from Spercheos in Trachiniæ's bay
Mean to invade. Nicanor and thyself
With your Carystian force, Nearchus brave
With his Chalcidians, must a distant course
To Potidæa take, whose valiant race
The winter siege of great Masistius foil'd.
Forewarn'd by due intelligence from me,
They will augment your numbers. Through the mouth
Of fam'd Enipeus Potidæan zeal
Will guide your helms to rich Larissa's walls,
Thessalia's helpless capital, whose youth
Attend Mardonius. Land, and burn th' abode
Of Aleuadian Thorax, who conducts
The foe through Greece. O'er all the region spread;
Where'er thou seest an Aleuadian roof,
The residence of traitors hurl to earth;
The flocks and herds from ev'ry pasture sweep,
From ev'ry store th' accumulated grain,
Support of Asia's myriads. O! recall
Thy late achievements on the bloody fields
Of Chalcis, and of Oreus. They, who brav'd
Thy native coast, of Demonax the friends,
Now in their own Thessalia lie thy spoil;
On their wide ruins build thee trophies new.


Commission'd thus, the animated youth
With each Carystian, each Chalcidic prow,
By morning sails. Three days the Attic chief,
Skreen'd in a harbour nigh Cenæum's point,
Rests on his anchors. So, by thickets hid
In fell Hyrcania, nurse of rav'nous broods,
The tiger lurks, and meditates unseen
A sudden sally on his heedless prey.


The fourth gay dawn with fresh'ning breezes curls
The Malian waters. In Barbaric flags
The wily chief apparelling his masts
Fallacious, ere the horizontal sun
Couch'd on the ocean, fills with hostile prows
The wide Sperchean mouth. Along the vales
Innumerable carriages display
The plenty huge for Asia's camp amass'd.
Th' encircling mountains all their echoes blend
In one continu'd sound with bleating flocks,
With bellowing herds, and dissonant uproar
Of their conductors; whom Thessalia sent,
Whom all the extent of Thracia, and the realm
Of Amarantha's lord. Th' affrighted hinds
Desert their charge. Trachiniæ's neighb'ring gates
With fugitives are throng'd. Lo! Cleon plants
His bold Eretrian banners on the strand;
The Styrians form; Eudemus bounds ashore,
Geræstians follow; then auxiliars new,
The subjects late of Demonax; the troops
Of Locrian Medon, Delphian Timon land,
Themistocles the last; whose chosen guard
Of fifty Attic, fifty Spartan youths,
Still sedulous and faithful close the rear.


They reach'd in order'd march Trachinian walls,
Whose gates unclos'd. Majestical advanc'd
A form rever'd by universal Greece,
Prais'd by each tongue, by ev'ry eye admir'd,
The Oïlean priestess of th' immortal Nine,
The goddess-like Melissa. Medon swift,
With Haliartus, met her sacred step.
Her name divulg'd from ev'ry station call'd
The gazing chiefs, Themistocles the first;
Whom, by her brother pointed out to view,
She thus address'd: Themistocles, give ear,
And thou, O Medon, whom, a stranger long
To my desiring eyes, they see restor'd.
Well may you wonder, that a hostile fort
Melissa's hand delivers to your pow'r.
There is a Persian worthy to be rank'd
Among the first of Grecians. Just, humane,
Thy captive, Medon, amply hath discharg'd
His price of ransom. Nine revolving moons
Beheld Masistius guardian of my hill
In purity of rev'rence to my fane,
My person, my dependents. I forsook
At Amarantha's suit my old abode;
A virtuous princess from a sickly couch
My care hath rais'd, Sandaucè, in those walls
Long resident with me. Two days are past
Since Artamanes, governing these tracts,
Heard of a navy on Thessalia's coast,
And with his force, though slender, took the field
To guard Larissa. Your descent unmans
The few remaining Persians in the fort;
All with Sandaucè and her children flew
To my protection; mercy to obtain
Became my charge; her terrors will disperse,
Soon as she knows, Themistocles is nigh.


The army halts. Trachiniæ's gates admit
Cecropia's hero, Medon, and the son
Of Lygdamis. Sandaucè they approach,
Sandaucè late in convalescent charms
Fresh, as a May-blown rose, by pallid fear
Now languid, as a lily beat with rain,
Till she discovers with transported looks
Her Salaminian guardian; then the warmth
Of gratitude, redoubling all her bloom,
Before him throws her prostrate. To him ran
The recollecting children, who embrace
Their benefactor's knees. She thus unfolds
Her lips, whose tuneful exclamation charms:


O, my protector-Interposing swift,
His ready hand uplifts her from the ground.


Do not disgrace me, thou excelling fair,
He said; to leave such beauty thus depress'd
Would derogate from manhood. She replies:


Forbear to think my present captive lot
Hath humbled thus Sandaucè. No, the weight
Of obligation past, my rescu'd babes
In Salamis, myself from horror sav'd,
Have bent my thankful knee. No fears debase
My bosom now; Themistocles I see,
In him a known preserver. Melting by,
Melissa, Medon, Haliartus, shed
The tend'rest dews of sympathy. In look
Compassionate, but calm, the chief rejoins:


Suggest thy wishes, princess, and command
My full compliance. She these accents sighs:


Ye gen'rous men, what pity is not due
To eastern women! Prize, ye Grecian dames,
Your envy'd state. When your intrepid lords
In arms contend with danger on the plain,
You in domestic peace are left behind
Among your letter'd progeny, to form
Their ductile minds, and exercise your skill
In arts of elegance and use. Alas!
Our wretched race, in ignorance and sloth
By Asia nurtur'd, like a captive train,
In wheeling dungeons with our infants clos'd,
Must wait th' event of some tremendous hour,
Which, unpropitious, leaves us on the field
A spoil of war. What myriads of my sex
From Greece to distant Hellespont bestrew
The ways, and whiten with their bleaching bones
The Thracian wilds! Spercheos views the tomb
Of Ariana, hapless sister, laid
In foreign mold! My portion of distress
You know, benignant guardians, who asswag'd
My suff'rings. Then to quit the direful scene,
Revisiting my native soil, to rest
Among my children, and instruct their youth,
As kind Melissa hath instructed mine,
Were sure no wish immoderate or vague.
But Artamanes-Blushing, trembling, here
She paus'd. Melissa takes the word: Sweet friend,
Let vice, not virtue blush. Cecropian chief,
Her soft attention well that youth deserves,
She all his constancy and care. Their hands
Are pledg'd; th' assent of Asia's king alone
Is wanting, which Mardonius hath assur'd
To Artamanes, flow'r of Asia's peers.
Him, with unequal force, to battle march'd
Against thy ranks, which never have been foil'd,
She knows, and trembles. Artfully replies
Themistocles: Sandaucè may prevent
This danger. Let her messenger convey
A kind injunction, that the noble youth,
Whose merit I have treasur'd in my breast,
May sheath his fruitless weapons, and, return'd
To her, aboard my well-appointed keel
With her embarking, seek their native soil.


The princess hears, and joyfully provides
A messenger of trust. Assembling now
His captains, thus Themistocles ordains:


Friends of Euboea, soon as Phoebus dawns
Your progress bend to Larissæan tow'rs;
Your chief is Cleon. Hyacinthus join;
To your united force the foe must yield.
Save Artamanes; bring him captive back,
But not with less humanity than care.
Accomplish'd Medon, Haliartus, vers'd
In Oeta's neighb'ring wilds, your Locrians plant
Among the passes; once secur'd, they leave
Us at our leisure to contrive and act.
Thee, honour'd seer of Delphi, at my side
In this Trachinian station I retain.


By op'ning day each leader on his charge
Proceeds. Themistocles inspects the vale,
Constrains the peasants from unnumber'd cars
Aboard his fleet to lade the golden grain.


Before Thermopylæ the Locrian files
Appear. From Oeta's topmast peak, behold,
O'er Medon's head a vulture wings his flight,
Whom to a cross beside the public way
Th' Oïlean hero's curious eye pursues.


Oh! stay thy rav'nous beak, in anguish loud
Cries Haliartus. Shudder while thou hear'st,
Son of Oïleus; on that hideous pile
The bones of great Leonidas are hung.


Then Medon's cool, delib'rate mind was shook
By agitation to his nature strange.
His spear and buckler to the ground he hurl'd;
Before th' illustrious ruins on his knee
He sunk, and thus in agony exclaim'd:


Should this flagitious profanation pass
Unpunish'd still, th' existence of the gods
Were but a dream. O, long-enduring Jove!
Thy own Herculean offspring canst thou see
Defac'd by vultures, and the parching wind,
Yet wield resistless thunder-But thy ways
Are awfully mysterious; to arraign
Thy heaviest doom is blasphemy. Thy will
For me reserv'd the merit to redeem
These precious reliques; penitent I own
My rashness; thankful I accept the task.


O mighty spirit! who didst late inform
With ev'ry virtue that disfigur'd frame,
With ev'ry kind affection prov'd by me,
The last distinguish'd object of thy care,
When it forbad me to partake thy fate,
The life, thy friendship sav'd, I here devote
To vindicate thy manes. Not the wrongs
Of gen'ral Greece, not Locris giv'n to flames,
Not the subversion of my father's house,
E'er with such keen resentment stung my heart,
As this indignity to thee. He said,
And, with the aid of Haliartus, free'd
The sacred bones; Leonteus, and the prime
Of Locris, frame with substituted shields
Th' extemporeanous bier. Again the chief:


Leonteus, Haliartus, rest behind;
Achieve th' important service, which the son
Of Neocles enjoins. The pious charge
Be mine of rend'ring to Melissa's care
These honour'd reliques. Now in measur'd pace
The warlike bearers tread; their manly breasts
Not long withhold the tribute of their sighs
Ingenuous; tears accompany their steps.
His sister in Trachiniæ Medon soon
Approaches; glad she hears him, and replies.


Hail! brother, hail! thou chosen by the gods
From longer shame to rescue these remains,
Which once contain'd whate'er is good and great
Among the sons of men. Majestic shade!
By unrelenting laws of Dis forbid
To enter, where thy ancestors reside;
Who, seed of Jove, to their Elysian joys
Expect thee, most illustrious of the race.
Amidst thy wand'rings on the banks of Styx,
Dost thou recall Melissa's dirge of praise
O'er thee, preparing by a glorious death
To save thy country? O! unbury'd still,
Did not Melissa promise to thy dust
Peace in her temple? An atrocious king
Hath barr'd awhile th' accomplishment; thy friend,
Thy soldier, now will ratify my word.
Soon to Lycurgus shall thy spirit pass,
To Orpheus, Homer, and th' Ascræan sage,
Who shall contend to praise thee in their bow'rs
Of amaranth and myrtle, ever young
Like thy renown. In Oeta's fane these bones,
Dear to the Muses, shall repose, till Greece,
Amid her future triumphs, hath decreed
A tomb and temple to her saviour's fame.


This high oblation of pathetic praise,
Paid by her holy friend, Sandaucè notes
Attentive; seldom from Melissa's eye
Was she remote. Her eunuchs she deputes
To bring a coffer large of od'rous wood
Inlaid with pearl, repository due
To such divine remains. In time appears
Th' Athenian gen'ral to applaud the deed,
While thus the mighty manes he invokes:


Hear, thou preserver of thy country, hear!
Lo! in his palms of Salamis the son
Of Neocles salutes thee. From a hand,
Which hath already half aveng'd thy death,
Accept of decent rites. Thy virtue sav'd
A nation; they hereafter shall complete
Thy sun'ral honours, and surround thy tomb
With trophies equal to thy deathless name.


He ceas'd. Her mantle on the solemn scene
Night from her car in dusky folds outspread.


Three mornings pass. Anon Sperchean banks
Re-echo shouts of triumph, while the vales
Are clad in arms. Lo! Cleon is return'd,
Uplifting bloodless ensigns of success,
And thus accosts Themistocles: Thy prize,
This Persian lord receive; our hasty march
O'ertook his rear. From Larissæan tow'rs,
A recent conquest, Hyacinthus, join'd
By Potidæans, and Olynthian spears,
Was then in sight. The herald I detach'd
With fair Sandaucè's message, and thy terms
Of peace and safety; Artamanes found
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,
Sandaucè'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 sooth 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
Revere that friend. She said, and dropp'd her hand,
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.

End of the Twenty-fifth Book