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"Wilt thou, in Lacedæmon once supreme,
Encounter twenty Persians? Yet these Greeks
In greater disproportion must engage
Our host to morrow." Demaratus then.
"By single combat were the trial vain
To show the pow'r of well-united force,
Which oft by military skill surmounts

The weight of numbers. Prince, the diff'rence learn
Between thy warriors and the sons of Greece.
The flow'r, the safeguard of thy num'rous camp
Are mercenaries. These are canton'd round
Thy provinces. No fertile field demands
Their painful hand to break the fallow glebe.
Them to the noon-day toil no harvest calls.
Nor on the mountain falls the stubborn oak
By their laborious axe. Their watchful eyes
Observe not how the flocks and heifers feed.
To them of wealth, of all possessions void,
The name of country with an empty sound
Flies o'er the ear, nor warms their joyless hearts,
Who share no country. Needy, yet in scorn
Rejecting labour, wretched by their wants,
Yet profligate through indolence, with limbs
Enervated and soft, with minds corrupt,
From misery, debauchery, and sloth,
Are these to battle drawn against a foe,
Train'd in gymnastic exercise and arms,
Inur'd to hardship, and the child of toil,

The satraps leave their cars. On foot they form
A splendid orb around their lord. By chance
The Spartans then compos'd th' external guard.
They, in a martial exercise employ'd,
Heed not the monarch, or his gaudy train;
-But poise the spear, protended, as in fight;
Or lift their adverse shields in single strife;
Or, trooping, forward rush, retreat and wheel
In ranks unbroken, and with equal feet: -
While others calm beneath their polish'd helms
Draw down their hair, whose length of sable curls
O'erspread their necks with terrour. Xerxes here
The exile questions." What do these intend,
Who with assiduous hands adjust their hair?"

To whom the Spartan. "O imperial lord,
Such is their custom, to adorn their heads,
When full determin'd to encounter death.
Bring down thy nations in resplendent steel;
Arm, if thou canst, the gen'ral race of man,
All, who possess the regions unexplor'd
Beyond the Ganges, all, whose wand'ring steps
Above the Caspian range the Scythian wild
With those, who drink the secret fount of Nile:
Yet to Laconian bosoms shall dismay
Remain a stranger." Fervour from his lips
Thus breaks aloud; when, gushing from his eyes,
Resistless grief o'erflows his cheeks.

Aside

His head he turns. He weeps in copious streams.

Wont through the freezing show'r, the wintry storm The keen remembrance of his former state,

O'er his own glebe the tardy ox to goad,
Or in the Sun's impetuous heat to glow
Beneath the burden of his yellow sheaves;
Whence on himself, on her, whose faithful arms
Infold him joyful, on a growing race,
Which glad his dwelling, plenty he bestows
With independence. When to battle call'd,
For them his dearest comfort, and his care,
And for the harvest promis'd to his toil,
He lifts the shield, nor shuns unequal force.
Such are the troops of ev'ry state in Greece.
One only yields a breed more warlike still,
Of whom selected bands appear in sight,
All citizens of Sparta. They the glebe
Have never turn'd, nor bound the golden sheaf.
They are devoted to severer tasks
For war alone, their sole delight and care.
From infancy to manhood they are train'd

To winter watches, to inclement skies,

His dignity, his greatness, and the sight
Of those brave ranks, which thus unshaken stood,
And spread amazement through the world in arms,
Excite these sorrows. His impassion'd looks
Review the godlike warriors, who beneath
His standard once victorious fought, who call'd
Him once their king, their leader; then again,
O'ercharg'd with anguish, he bedews with tears
His rev'rend beard, in agony bemoans
His faded honours, his illustrious name
Forgotten long, his majesty defil'd
By exile, by dependence. So obscur'd
By sordid moss, and ivy's creeping leaf,
Some princely palace, or stupendous fane,
Maguificent in ruin nods; where Time
From under shelving architraves hath mow'd
The column down, and cleft the pond'rous dome.
Not unobserv'd by Hyperanthes, mourr.'d
Th' unhappy Spartan. Kindly in his own

To plunge through torrents, brave the tuský boar, He press'd the exile's hand, and thus humane.

To arms and wounds; a discipline of pain
So fierce, so constant, that to them a camp
With all its hardships is a seat of rest,
And war itself remission from their toil."

"Thy words are folly," with redoubled scorn
Returns the monarch. "Doth not freedom dwell
Among the Spartans? Therefore will they shun
Superior foes. The unrestrain'd and free
Will fly from danger; while my vassals, born
To absolute controlment from their king,
Know, if th' allotted station they desert,
The scourge awaits them, and my heavy wrath."
To this the exile. "O conceive not, prince,
That Spartans want an object, where to fix
Their eyes in rev'rence, in obedient dread.
To them more awful, than the name of king
To Asia's trembling millions, is the LAW;
Whose sacred voice enjoins them to confront
Unnumber'd foes, to vanquish, or to die."

Here Demaratus pauses. Xerxes halts.
Its long defile Thermopyla presents.

"O Demaratus, in this grief I see,
How just thy praises of Laconia's state.
Though cherish'd here with universal love,
Thou still deplor'st thy absence from her face
Howe'er averse to thine. But swift relief
From indignation borrow. Call to mind
Thy injuries. Th' auspicious fortune bless,
Which led thee far from calumny and fraud,
To peace, to honour in the Persian court."
As Demaratus with a grateful mind
His answer was preparing, Persia's king
Stern interrupted. "Soon as morning shines,
Do you, Tigranes and Phraortes, head
The Medes and Cissians. Bring these Greciana
bound."

This said, the monarch to his camp returns.
Th' attendant princes reascend their cars,
Save Hyperanthes, by the Carian queen
Detain'd, who thus began. Impartial, brave
Nurs'd in a court, yet virtuous, let my heart
To thee its feelings undisguis'd reveal.

Thou hear'st thy royal brother. He demands
These Grecians bound.
Why stops his mandate

there?

To die

Why not command the mountains to remove,
Or sink to level plains. Yon Spartans view,
Their weighty arms, their countenance.
My gratitude instructs me in the cause
Of our imperial master. To succeed
Is not within the shadow of my hopes
At this dire pass. What evil genius sways?
Tigranes, false Argestes, and the rest
In name a council, ceaseless have oppos'd
My dictates, oft repeated in despite
Of purpled flatt'rers, to embark a force,
Which, pouring on Laconia, might confine
These sons of valour to their own defence.
Vain are my words. The royal ear admits
Their sound alone; while adulation's notes
In syren sweetness penetrate his heart,
There lodge ensnaring mischief." In a sigh,
To her the prince. "O faithful to thy lord,
Discreet adviser, and in action firm,
What can I answer? My afflicted soul
Must seek its refuge in a feeble hope,
Thou mayst be partial to thy Doric race,
Mayst magnify our danger. Let me hope,
Whate'er the danger, if extreme, believe
That Hyperanthes for his prince can bleed,
Not with less zeal than Spartans for their laws."
They separate. To Xerxes he repairs.
The queen, surrounded by the Carian guard,
Stays and retraces with sagacious ken
The destin'd field of war, the vary'd space,
Its depth, its confines both of hill and sea.
Meantime a scene more splendid hath allur'd
Her son's attention. His transported sight
With ecstasy, like worship, long pursues
The pomp of Xerxes in retreat, the throne,
Which show'd their idol to the nations round,
The bounding steeds, caparison'd in gold,
The plumes, the chariots, standards. He excites
Her care, express'd in these pathetic strains.

"Look on the king with gratitude. His sire Protected thine. Himself upholds our state.. By loyalty inflexible repay

The obligation. To immortal pow'rs
The adoration of thy soul confine;

And look undazzled on the pomp of man,
Most weak when highest. Then the jealous gods
Watch to supplant him. They his paths, his courts,
His chambers fill with flatt'ry's pois'nous swarms,
Whose honey'd bane, by kingly pride devour'd,
Consumes the health of kingdoms." Here the boy
By an attention, which surpass'd his years,
Unlocks her inmost bosom. "Thrice accurs'd
Be those," th' indignant heroine pursues,
"Those, who have tempted their imperial lord
To that prepost'rous arrogance, which cast
Chains in the deep to manacle the waves,
Chastis'd with stripes in Heav'n's offended sight
The Hellespont, and fondly now demands
The Spartans bound. O child, my soul's delight,
Train'd by my care to equitable sway,
And imitation of the gods by deeds
To merit their protection, heed my voice.
They, who alone can tame, or swell the floods,
Compose the winds, or guide their strong career,
O'erwhelming human greatness, will confound
Such vanity in mortals. On our fleet
Their indignation hath already fall'n.

Perhaps our boasted army is prepar'd
A prey for death, to vindicate their pow'r."
This said, a curious search in ev'ry part
Her eye renews. Adjoining to the straits,
Fresh bloom'd a thicket of entwining shrubs,
A seeming fence to some sequester'd ground,
By travellers unbeaten. Swift her guards
Address'd their spears to part the pliant boughs.
Held back, they yield a passage to the queen,
And princely boy. Delicious to their sight
Soft dales, meand'ring, show their flow'ry laps
Among rude piles of Nature. In their sides
Of rock are mansions hewn; nor loaden trees
Of cluster'd fruit are wanting: but no sound,
Except of brooks in murmur, and the song
Of winged warblers, meets the list'ning ear.
No grazing herd, no flock, nor human form
Is seen, no careful husband at his toil,
Beside her threshold no industrious wife,
No playful child. Instructive to her son
The princess then. 66 Already these abodes
Are desolate. Once happy in their homes,
Th' inhabitants forsake them. Pleasing scene
Of Nature's bounty, soon will savage Mars
Deform the lovely ringlets of thy shrubs,
And coarsely pluck thy violated fruits
Unripe; will deafen with his clangour fell
Thy tuneful choirs. I mourn thy destin'd spoil,
Yet come thy first despoiler. Captains, plant,
Ere morning breaks, my secret standard here.
Come, boy, away. Thy safety will I trust
To Demaratus; while thy mother tries
With these her martial followers, what sparks,
Left by our Doric fathers, yet inflame
Their sons and daughters in a stern debate
With other Dorians, who have never breath'd
The soft'ning gales of Asia, never bow'd
In forc'd allegiance to barbarian thrones.
Thou heed my order. Those ingenuous looks
Of discontent suppress. For thee this fight
Were too severe a lesson. Thou mightst bleed
Among the thousands, fated to expire
By Sparta's lance. Let Artemisia die,
Ye all-disposing rulers, but protect
Her son." She ceas'd. The lioness, who reigns
Queen of the forest, terrible in strength,
And prone to fury, thus, by Nature taught,
Melts o'er her young in blandishment and love.
Now slowly tow'rds the Persian camp her steps
In silence she directed; when a voice,
Sent from a rock, accessible which seem'd
To none but feather'd passengers of air,
By this reproof detain'd her.
Art thou, to Greece by Doric blood ally'd?
Com'st thou to lay her fruitful meadows waste,
Thou homager of tyrants?" Upward gaz'd
Th' astonish'd princess. Lo! a female shape,
Tall and majestic, from th' impendent ridge
Look'd awful down. A holy fillet bound
Her graceful hair, loose flowing. Seldom wept
Great Artemisia. Now a springing tear
Between her eyelids gleam'd. "Too true," she
sigh'd,

"Caria's queen

"A homager of tyrants! Voice austere, And presence half-divine!" Again the voice.

"O Artemisia, hide thy Doric sword. Let no barbarian tyrant through thy might, Thy counsels, valiant as thou art and wise, Consume the holy fanes, deface the tombs, Subvert the laws of Greece, ber sons enthrall"

The queen made no reply. Her breast-plate | Where not five warriors in a rank can tread. The tremulous attire of cov'ring mail [heav'd. Confess'd her struggle. She at length exclaim'd. “Olympian thund'rer, from thy neighb'ring hill Of sacred oaths remind me!" Then aside She turns to shun that majesty of form, In solemn sounds upbraiding. Torn her thoughts She feels. A painful conflict she endures With recollection of her Doric race; Till gratitude, reviving, arms her breast. Her royal benefactor she recalls, Back to his sight precipitates her steps.

LEONIDAS.

BOOK V.

THE ARGUMENT.

We thence descended to the Phocian camp,
Beset with scatter'd oaks, which rose and spread
| In height and shade; on whose sustaining boughs
Were hung in snowy folds a thousand tents,
Containing each a Phocian heavy-mail'd
With two light-weapon'd menials. Northward ends
The vale, contracted to that narrow strait,
Which first we saw with Mycon."-" Prudent care
Like yours alleviates mine," well-pleas'd the king
Reply'd. "Now, Agis, from Arcadia's bands
Select a thousand spears. To them unite
The Thespians and Plateans. Draw their lines
Beneath the wall, which fortifies the pass.
There, close-embody'd, will their might repulse
The num'rous foe. Demophilus salute.
Approv'd in martial service him I name
The chief supreme." Obedient to his will
Th' appointed warriors, issuing from the tents,

Fill their deep files, and watch the bigh command.
So round their monarch in his stormy hall
The winds assemble. From his dusky throne
His dreadful mandates Eolus proclaims

Or bend the forest from the mountain's brow.
Laconia's leader from the rampart's height
To battle thus the list'ning host inflames.

Leonidas, rising by break of day, hears the intelli-To swell the main, or Heav'n with clouds deform, gence, which Agis and Melibus bring from the upper pass, then commands a body of Arcadians with the Platæans and Thespians, to be drawn out for battle, under the conduct of Demophilus, in that part of Thermopyla, which lies close to the Phocian wall, from whence he harangues them. The enemy approaches. Diomedon kills Tigranes in single combat. Both armies join battle. Dithyrambus kills Phraortes. The Persians, entirely defeated, are pursued by Demophilus to the extremity of the pass. The Arcadians, inconsiderately advancing beyond it, fall into an ambush, which Artemisia had laid to cover the retreat of the Persians. She kills Clonius, but is herself repulsed by Demophilus. Diomedon and Dithyrambus give chase to her broken forces over the plains in the sight of Persia's camp, whence she receives no assistance. She rallies a small body, and, facing the enemy, disables Dithyrambus by a blow ou his helmet. This puts the Grecians into some confusion, and gives her an opportunity of preserving the remainder of her Carians by a timely retreat. She gains the camp, accuses Argestes of treachery, but, pacified by Demaratus, is accompanied by him with a thousand horse to collect the dead bodies of her soldiers for sepulchre.

AURORA dawn'd. Leonidas arose.
With Melibus, Agis, now return'd,
Address'd the king. "Along the mountain's side
We bent our journey. On our way a voice
Loud from a crag on Melibons call'd.

He look'd and answer'd. Mycon, ancient friend!
Far hast thou driv'n thy bearded train to day;
But fortunate thy presence. None like thee,
Inhabitant of Eta from thy birth,

Can furnish that intelligence, which Greece
Wants for her safety.' Mycon show'd a track.
We mounted high. The summit, where we stopp'd,
Gave to the sight a prospect wide o'er hills,
O'er dales and forests, rocks, and dashing floods
In cataracts. The object of our search
Beneath us lay, the secret pass to Greece,

"This day, O Grecians, countrymen and friends,
Your wives, your offspring, your paternal seats,
Your parents, country, liberty, and laws,
Demand your swords. You gen'rous, active, brave,
Vers'd in the various discipline of Mars,
Are now to grapple with ignoble foes,
In war unskilful, Nature's basest dross,
And thence a monarch's mercenary slaves.
Relax'd their limbs, their spirits are deprav'd
By eastern sloth and pleasures. Hire their cause,
Their only fruit of victory is spoil.
They know not freedom, nor its lib'ral cares.
Such is the flow'r of Asia's host. The rest,
Who fill her boasted numbers, are a crowd,
Fore'd from their homes; a populace in peace
By jealous tyranny disarm'd, in war
Their tyrant's victims. Taught in passive grief
To bear the rapine, cruelty, and spurns
Of Xerxes' mercenary band, they pine
In servitude to slaves. With terrour sounds
The trumpet's clangour in their trembling ears.
Unwonted loads, the buckler and the lance
Their hands sustain, encumber'd, and present
The mockery of war-But ev'ry eye
Shoots forth impatient flames. Your gallant breasts
Too long their swelling spirit have confin'd.
Go then, ye sons of Liberty; go, sweep
These bondmen from the field. Resistless rend
The glitt'ring standard from their servile grasp.
Hurl to the ground their ignominious heads,
The warrior's helm profaning. Think, the shades
Of your forefathers lift their sacred brows
Here to enjoy the glory of their sons."

He spake. Loud paans issue from the Greeks.
In fierce reply barbarian shouts ascend
From hostile nations, thronging down the pass.
Such is the roar of Etna, when his mouth
Displodes combustion from his sulph'rous depths
To blast the smiles of Nature. Danntles:stood
In deep array before the Phocian wall
The phalanx, wedg'd with implicated shields,
And spears protended, like the graceful range
Of arduous elms, whose interwoven boughs

Before some rural palace wide expand Their venerable umbrage to retard

The North's impetuous wing. As o'er the main
In lucid rows the rising waves reflect
The Sun's effulgence; so the Grecian helms
Return'd his light, which o'er their convex pour'd
A splendour, scatter'd through the dancing plumes.
Down rush the foes. Exulting in their van,
Their haughty leader shakes his threat'ning lance,
Provoking battle. Instant from his rank
Diomedon bursts furious. On he strides,
Confronts Tigranes, whom he thus defies.

Declining valour in the van. His lance
Then in the rear he brandishes. The crowd
Before his threat'ning ire, affrighted, roll
Their numbers headlong on the Grecian steel.
Thus with his trident ocean's angry god
From their vast bottom turns the mighty mass
Of waters upward, and o'erwhelms the beach.

Tremendous frown'd the fierce Platæan chief
Full in the battle's front. His ample shield
Like a strong bulwark prominent he rais'd
Before the line. There thunder'd all the storm
Of darts and arrows. His undaunted train

"Now art thou met, barbarian. Wouldst thou In emulating ardour charg'd the foe.

prove

Thy actions equal to thy vaunts, command Thy troops to halt, while thou and I engage." Tigranes, turning to the Persians, spake. "My friends and soldiers, check your martial haste, While my strong lance that Grecian's pride confounds."

He ceas'd. In dreadful opposition soon Each combatant advanc'd. Their sinewy hands. Grip'd fast their spears, high-brandish'd. Thrice they drove

With well-directed force the pointed steel

At either's throat, and thrice their wary shields
Repell'd the menac'd wound. The Asian chief
At length, with pow'rs collected for the stroke,
His weapon rivets in the Grecian targe.
Aside Diomedon inclines, and shuns
Approaching fate; then all his martial skill
Undaunted summons. His forsaken spear
Beside him cast, his falchion he unsheaths.
The blade, descending on Tigranes' arm,
That instant struggling to redeem his lance,
"The nervous hand dissevers. Pale affright
Unmans the Persian; while his active foe
Full on his neck discharg'd the rapid sword,
Which open'd wide the purple gates of death.
Low sinks Tigranes in eternal shade.

His prostrate limbs the conqueror bestrides;
Then in a tuft of blood-distilling hair
His hand entwining, from the mangled trunk
The head disjoins, and whirls with matchless strength
Among the adverse legions. All in dread
Recoil'd, where'er the ghastly visage flew
In sanguine circles, and pursu'd its track
Of horrour through the air. Not more amaz'd,
A barb'rous nation, whom the cheerful dawn
Of science ne'er illumin'd, view on high
A meteor, waving its portentous fires;
Where oft, as Superstition vainly dreams,
Some demon sits amid the baneful blaze,
Dispersing plague and desolation round.
Awhile the stern Diomedon remain'd
Triumphant o'er the dire dismay, which froze
The heart of Persia; then with haughty pace
In sullen joy among his gladsome friends
Resun'd his station. Still the hostile throng
In consternation motionless suspend
The charge. Their drooping hearts Phraortes warms.
"Heav'n! can one leader's fate appal this host,
Which counts a train of princes for its chiefs?
Behold Phraortes. From Niphates' ridge
I draw my subject files. My hardy toil
Through pathless woods and deserts hath explor'd
The tiger's cavern. This unconquer'd hand
Hath from the lion rent his shaggy hide.
So through this field of slaughter will I chase
You vaunting Greek." His ardent words revive

Where'er they turn'd the formidable spears,
Which drench'd the glebe of Marathon in blood,
Barbarian dead lay heap'd. Diomedon

Led on the slaughter. From his nodding crest
The sable plumes shook terrour. Asia's host
Shrunk back, as blasted by the piercing beams
Of that unconquerable sword, which fell
With lightning's swiftness on dissever'd helms,
And, menacing Tigranes' doom to all,
Their multitude dispers'd. The furious chief,
Encompass'd round by carnage, and besmear'd
With sanguine drops, inflames his warlike friends.
"O Dithyrambus, let thy deeds this day
Surmount their wonted lustre. Thou in arms,
Demophilus, worn grey, thy youth recall.
Behold, these slaves without resistance bleed.
Advance, my hoary friend. Propitious fame
Smiles on thy years. She grants thy aged hand
To pluck fresh laurels for thy honour'd brow."
As, when endu'd with Promethean heat,
The molten clay respir'd; a sudden warmth
Glows in the venerable Thespian's veins;
In ev'ry sinew new-born vigour swells.
His falchion, thund'ring on Cherasmes' helm,
The forehead cleaves. Ecbatana to war
Sent forth Cherasmes. From her potent gates
He proud in hope her swarming numbers led.
Him Ariazus and Peucestes join'd,

His martial brothers. They attend his fate,
By Dithyrambus pierc'd. Their hoary sire
Shall o'er his solitary palace roam ;
Lamenting loud his childless years, shall curse
Ambition's fury, and the lust of war,
Then, pining, bow in anguish to the grave.

Next by the fierce Platæan's fatal sword
Expir'd Damates, once the host and friend
Of fall'n Tigranes. By his side to fight
He left his native bands. Of Syrian birth
In Daphné he resided near the grove,
Whose hospitable laurels in their shade
Conceal'd the virgin fugitive averse
To young Apollo. Hither she retir'd
Far from her parent stream. Here fables feigu
Herself a laurel, chang'd her golden hair
To verdant leaves in this retreat, the grove
Of Daphné call'd, the seat of rural bliss,
Fann'd by the breath of Zephyrs, and with rills
From bubbling founts irriguous, Syria's boast,
The happy rival of Thessalia's vale,
Now hid for ever from Damates' eyes.

Demophilus, wise leader, soon improves
Advantage. All the vet'rans of his troop,
In age his equals, to condense the files,
To rivet close their bucklers he commands.
As some broad vessel, heavy in her strength,
But well-compacted, when a fav'ring gale
Invites the skilful master to expand

LEONIDAS.

The sails at large, her slow but steady course
Impels through myriads of dividing waves;
So, unresisted, through barbarian throngs
The hoary phalanx pass'd. Arcadia's sons
Pursu'd more swift. Gigantic Clonius press'd
The yielding Persians, who before him sunk,
Crush'd like vile stubble underneath the steps
Of some glad peasant, visiting his fields
Of new-shorn harvest. On the gen'ral rout
Phraortes look'd intrepid still. He sprang
O'er hills of carnage to confront the foe.
His own inglorious friends he thus reproach'd.
"Fly then, ye cowards, and desert your chief.
Yet single here my target shall oppose
The shock of thousands." Raging, he impels
His deathful point through Aristander's breast.
Him Dithyrambus lov'd. A sacred bard,
Rever'd for justice, for his verse renown'd,
He sung the deeds of heroes, those who fell,
Or those who conquer'd in their country's cause,
Th' enraptur'd soul inspiring with the love
Of glory, earn'd by virtue. His high strain
The Muses favour'd from their neighb'ring bow'rs,
And bless'd with heav'nly melody his lyre.
No more from Thespia shall his feet ascend
The shady steep of Helicon; no more
The stream divine of Aganippe's fount
Bedew his lip harmonious: nor his hands,
Which, dying, grasp the unforsaken lance,
And prostrate buckler, ever more accord
His lofty numbers to the sounding shell.
Lo! Dithyrambus weeps. Amid the rage
Of war and conquest swiftly-gushing tears
Find one sad moment's interval to fall
On his pale friend.
His stern revenge.

plung'd,

But soon the victor proves
Through shield and corselet

His forceful blade divides the Persian's chest;
Whence issue streams of royal blood, deriv'd
From ancestors, who sway'd in Ninus old
Th' Assyrian sceptre. He, to Xerxes' throne
A tributary satrap, rul'd the vales,
Where Tigris swift between the parted hills
Of tall Niphates drew his foamy tide,
Impregnating the meads. Phraortes sinks,
Not instantly expiring. Still his eyes
Flash indignation, while the Persians fly.

Beyond the Malian entrance of the straits
Th' Arcadians rush; when, unperceiv'd till felt,
Spring from concealment in a thicket deep
New swarms of warriors, clustring on the flank
Of these unwary Grecians. Tow'rds the bay
They shrink. They totter on the fearful edge,
Which overhangs a precipice. Surpris'd,
The strength of Clonius fails. His giant bulk
Beneath the chieftain of th' assailing band
Falls prostrate. Thespians and Plateans wave
Auxiliar ensigns. They encounter foes,
Resembling Greeks in discipline and arms.
Dire is the shock. What less, than Caria's queen
In their career of victory could check
Such warriors? Fierce she struggles; while the rout
Of Medes and Cissians carry to the camp
Contagious terrour: thence no succour flows.
Demophilus stands firm; the Carian band
At length recoil before him. Keen pursuit
He leaves to other, like th' almighty Sire,
Who sits unshaken on his throne, while floods,
His instruments of wrath, o'erwhelm the Earth,
And whirlwinds level on her hills the growth

BOOK V.

Of proudest cedars. Through the yielding crowd
Platæa's chief and Dithyrambus range
Triumphant side by side. Thus o'er the field,
Where bright Alpheus heard the rattling car
And concave hoof along his echoing banks,
Two gen'rous coursers, link'd in mutual reins,
In speed, in ardour equal, beat the dust
To reach the glories of Olympia's goal.
Th' intrepid heroes on the plain advance,
Not long the queen
They press the Carian rear.
Endures that shame. Her people's dying groans
Transpierce her bosom. On their bleeding limbs.
She looks maternal, feels maternal pangs.
A troop she rallies. Goddess-like she turns,
Not less than Pallas with her Gorgon shield.
Whole ranks she covers like th' imperial bird
Extending o'er a nest of callow young

Her pinion broad, and pointing fierce her beak,
Her claws outstretch'd. The Thespian's ardent hand,
From common lives refraining, hastes to snatch
More splendid laurels from that nobler bead.
His pond'rous falchion, swift descending, bears
Her buckler down, thence glancing, cuts the thong,
Which holds her headpiece fast. That golden fence
Drops down. Thick tresses, unconfin'd, disclose
A female warrior; one, whose summer pride
Of fleeting beauty had begun to fade,
Yet by th' heroic character supply'd,
Which grew more awful, as the touch of time
Remov'd the soft'ning graces. Back he steps,
Unmann'd by wonder. With indignaut eyes,
Fire-darting, she advances. Both her hands
Full on his crest discharge the furious blade.
The forceful blow compels him to recede
Yet further back, unwounded, though confus'd.
His soldiers flock around him. From a scene
Of blood more distant speeds Platea's chief.
The fair occasion of suspended fight

She seizes, bright in glory wheels away,

And saves her Carian remnant. While his friend
In fervent sounds-Diomedon bespake.

"If thou art slain, I curse this glorious day.
Be all thy trophies, be my own accurs'd."

The youth, recover'd, answers in a smile.
"I am unhurt. The weighty blow proclaim'd
The queen of Caria, or Bellona's arm.
Our longer stay Demophilus may blame.
Let us prevent his call." This said, their steps
They turn, both striding through empurpled heaps
Of arms, and mangled slain, themselves with gore
Distain'd like two grim tigers, who have forc'd
A nightly mansion, on the desert rais'd
By some lone-wand'ring traveller, then, dy'd
In human crimson, through the forest deep
Back to their covert's dreary gloom retire.

Stern Artemisia, sweeping o'er the field,
Bursts into Asia's camp. A furious look
She casts around. Abrocomes remote
With Hyperanthes from the king were sent.
She sees Argestes in that quarter chief,
Who from battalions numberless had spar'd
Not one to succour, but his malice gorg'd
With her distress. Her anger now augments.
Revenge frowns gloomy on her darken'd brow.
He cautious moves to Xerxes, where he sat
High on his car. She follows. Lost her helm,
Resign'd to sportive winds her cluster'd locks,
Wild, but majestic like the waving boughs
Of some proud elm, the glory of the grove,
And full in foliage. Her emblazon'd shield

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