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 Sandauce'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.
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 diffrent 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 (Calliope 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
Revere that friend." She said, and dropp'd her hand, From her commands attention; thus she spake :
"Thou art not dead, Leonidas; thy mind In ev'ry Grecian lives. Thy mortal part, Transform'd to ashes, shall on Œta'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 sec
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."
She o'er the dead through half the solemn night 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 ret'r'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
Of stern republics, vigilantly bent Against successful greatness; yet serene, Prepar'd for ev'ry possible reverse
In his own fortune, he the present thought, Of Persians chang'd from foes to friends, enjoy'd. When, lo! Sicinus landed. Swift his lord In words like these the faithful man approach'd. "From Aristides hail! Asopus flows, Still undisturb'd by war, between the hosts Inactive. Each the other to assail 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: "Euboeans, 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 Thermopyle 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 Phoebean 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,
Who made Acanthè mine. My present zeal His manly justice will forbear to chide."
The priest of Delphi next: "Athenian friend, I have a daughter on Cadmean plains, My Amarantha. From no other care, Than to be nearer that excelling child, Would I forsake this memorable spot, Where died the first of Spartans, and a chief Like thee triumphant celebrates that death." Then Cleon proffer'd his Eretrian band, Eight hundred breathing vengeance on a foe, Who laid their tow'rs in ashes. Lampon next Presents his Styrians. Brave Nearchus joins Twelve hundred youths of Chalcis. Tideus last Of Potidea twice three hundred shields.
"Enough, your number is complete," the son Of Neocles reminds them. "Swift embark; The gale invites. Sicinus is your guide."
He said, and, moving tow'rds the beach, observes The embarkation. Each progressive keel His eye pursues. O'erswelling now in thought, His own deservings, glory, and success, Rush on his soul like torrents, which disturb A limpid fount. Of purity depriv'd, The rill no more in music steals along, But harsh and turbid through its channel foams. "What sea, what coast, what region have I pass'd Without erecting trophies?" cries the chief, In exultation to Sicinus staid.
"Have I not spar'd the vanquish'd to resound My clemency? Ev'n Persians are my friends. These are my warriors. Prosp'rous be your sails, Ye Greeks, enroll'd by me, by me inur'd To arms and conquest. Under Fortune's wing Speed, and assist my ancient rival's arm To crush th' invader. Distant I uphold The Grecian armies; distant I will snatch My share of laurels on the plains of Thebes. Then come, soft Peace, of indolence the nurse, Not to the son of Neocles. On gold Let rigour look contemptuous; I, return'd To desert Athens, I, enrich'd with spoils Of potentates, and kings, will raise her head From dust. Superb her structures shall proclaim No less a marvel, than the matchless bird The glory of Arabia, when, consum'd
In burning frankincense and myrrh, he shows His presence new, and, op'ning to the Sun Regenerated gloss of plumage, tow'rs, Himself a species. So shall Athens rise Bright from her ashes, mistress sole of Greece. From long Piræan walls her winged pow'r Shall awe the Orient and Hesperian worlds. Me shall th' Olympic festival admit
Its spectacle most splendid"......" Ah! suppress Immod'rate thoughts," Sicinus interrupts, "Thou citizen of Athens! Who aspires, Resides not there secure. Forbear to sting Her ever-wakeful jealousy, nor tempt The woes of exile. For excess of worth
Was Aristides banish'd. Be not driv'n To early trial of thy Persian friends.
O! thou transcendent, thou stupendous man, From thy Timothea moderation learn, Which, like the stealing touch of gentle time O'er canvass, pencil'd by excelling art, Smooths glaring colours, and imparts a grace To mightiest heroes. Thus their dazzling blaze Of glory soft'ning, softens envy's eye."
MEANTIME Briareus to the plains of Thebes Precipitates his course. Arriv'd, he greets Mardonius. Rumour had already told, What, now confirm'd, o'erwhelms the troubled chief, Confounded like the first anointed king O'er Israel's tribes, when Philistean din Of armies pierc'd his borders, and despair Seduc'd his languid spirit to consult The sorceress of Endor. "Call," he said, "Eleau Hegesistratus-Be swift."
The summon'd augur comes. To him the son Of Gobryas: " Foe to Sparta, heed my words; Themistocles possesses on our backs
Th' Etæan passes. Famine, like a beast, Noos'd and subservient to that fraudful man, Who shuns the promis'd contest in the field, He can turn loose against us. In our front See Aristides. Fatal is delay.
Fam'd are the oracles of Greece-Alas! My oracle, Masistius, is no more. To thee, who hatest all the Spartan breed, I trust my secret purpose. Be my guide To some near temple, or mysterious cave, Whence voices supernatural unfold The destinies of men." The augur here:
"The nearest, but most awful, is a cave Oracular, Lebadia's ancient boast, Where Jupiter Trophonius is ador'd, Not far beyond Copæa's neighb'ring lake, Which thou must pass. With costly presents freight, Such as magnificence like thine requires, Thy loaded bark; command my service all." Mardonius issues orders to provide
The bark and presents. Summoning his chiefs, To them he spake: "My absence from the camp Important functions claim; three days of rule To Mindarus I cede. Till my return Let not a squadron pass th' Asopian stream." This said, with Hegesistratus he mounts A rapid car. Twelve giants of his guard, Detach'd before, await him on the banks Of clear Copææ. Silver Phœbè spreads A light, reposing on the quiet lake, Save where the snowy rival of her hue, The gliding swan, behind him leaves a trail In luminous vibration. Lo! an isle Swells on the surface. Marble structures there New gloss of beauty borrow from the Moon To deck the shore. Now silence gently yields To measur'd strokes of oars. The orange groves, In rich profusion round the fertile verge, Impart to fanning breezes fresh perfumes Exhaustless, visiting the sense with sweets, Which soften ev'n Briareus; but the son Of Gobryas, heavy with devouring care, Uncharm'd, unheeding sits. At length began Th' Elean augur, in a learned flow Of ancient lore, to Asia's pensive chief Historically thus: "Illustrious lord, Whose nod controls such multitudes in arms From lands remote and near, the story learn Of sage Trophonius, whose prophetic cell Thou wouldst descend. An architect divine, He for the Delphians rais'd their Pythian fane. His recompense imploring from the god, This gracious answer from the god he drew : 'When thrice my chariot hath its circle run,
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❜d, But where abiding in concealment long The destinies envelop'd. Lo! a dearth Afflicts Boeotia. 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
The death of Sparta's king. Their changing course 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 channell❜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 commerce 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,
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, (For sure thy virtue dwells with endless peace) 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
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