Within the mighty Babylonian gates
They dwell, and where still mightier once in sway
Old Ninus rear'd its head, th' imperial seat
Of eldest tyrants. These Chaldæa joins,
The land of shepherds. From the pastures wide
There Belus first discern'd the various course
Of Heav'n's bright planets, and the clust'ring stars
With names distinguish'd; whence himself was
The first of gods. His sky-ascending fane [deem'd
In Babylon the proud Assyrians rais'd.

Drawn from the bounteous soil, by Ochus lav'd,
The Bactrians stood, and rough in skins of goats
The Paricanian archers. Caspian ranks
From barren mountains, from the joyless coast
Around the stormy lake, whose name they bore,
Their scimitars upheld, and cany bows.
The Indian tribes, a threefold host compose.
Part guide the courser, part the rapid car;
The rest on foot within the bending cane
For slaughter fix the iron-pointed reed.
They o'er the Indus from the distant verge
Of Ganges passing, left a region, lov'd

By lavish Nature. There the season bland
Bestows a double harvest. Honey'd shrubs,
The cinnamon, the spikenard, bless their fields.
Array'd in native wealth, each warrior shines.
His ears bright-beaming pendants grace; his hands,
Encircled, wear a bracelet, starr'd with gems.
Such were the nations, who to Xerxes sent
Their mingled aids of infantry and horse.

Now, Muse, recite, what multitudes obscur'd
The plain on foot, or elevated high
On martial axles, or on camels beat
The loosen'd mould. The Parthians first appear,
Then weak in numbers, from unfruitful hills,
From woods, nor yet for warlike steeds renown'd.
Near them the Sogdians, Dadices arrange,
Gandarians and Chorasmians. Sacian throngs
From cold Imaus pour'd, from Oxus' wave,
From Cyra, built on laxartes' brink,
A bound of Persia's empire. Wild, untam'd,
To fury prone, their deserts they forsook.
A bow, a falchion, and a pond'rous axe
The savage legions arm'd. A pointed casque
O'er each grim visage rear'd an iron cone.
In arms like Persians the Saranges stood.
High, as their knees, the shapely buskins clung.
Around their legs. Magnificent they trod
In garments richly tinctur'd. Next are seen
The Pactian, Mycian, and the Utian train,
In skins of goats rude-vested. But in spoils
Of tawny lions, and of spotted pards
The graceful range of Ethiopians shows
An equal stature, and a beauteous frame.
Their torrid region had imbrown'd their cheeks,
And curl'd their jetty locks. In ancient song
Renown'd for justice, riches they disdain'd,
As foes to virtue. From their seat remote,
On Nilus' verge above th' Egyptian bound,
Forc'd by their king's malignity and pride,
These friends of hospitality and peace,
Themselves uninjur'd, wage reluctant war
Against a land, whose climate, and whose name
To them were strange. With hardest stone they
The rapid arrow. Bows four cubits long, [point
Form'd of elastic branches from the palm,
They carry; knotted clubs, and lances, arm'd
With horns of goats. The Paphlagonians march'd,
From where Carambis with projected brows
O'erlooks the dusky Euxin, wrapt in mists,

From where through flow'rs, which paint his vary'd banks,

Parthenius flows. The Ligyan bands succeed;
The Matienians, Mariandenians next;
To them the Syrian multitudes, who range
Among the cedars on the shaded ridge
Of Libanus; who cultivate the glebe,
Wide-water'd by Orontes; who reside
Near Daphne's grove, or pluck from loaded palms
The foodful date, which clusters on the plains
Of rich Damascus. All, who bear the name
Of Cappadocians, swell the Syrian host,
With those, who gather from the fragrant shrub
The aromatic balsam, and extract

Its milky juice along the lovely side

Of Jordan, winding, till immers'd he sleeps
Beneath a pitchy surface, which obscures
Th' Asphaltic pool. The Phrygians then advance,
To them their ancient colony are join'd,
Armenia's sons. These see the gushing founts
Of strong Euphrates cleave the yielding earth,
Then, wide in lakes expanding, hide the plain;
Whence with collected waters, fierce and deep,
His passage rending through diminish'd rocks,
To Babylon he foams. Not so the stream
Of soft Araxes to the Caspian glides;
He, stealing imperceptibly, sustains
The green profusion of Armenia's meads.
Now strange to view, in similar attire,
But far unlike in manners to the Greeks,
Appear the Lydians. Wantonness and sport
Were all their care. Beside Caijster's brink,
Or smooth Maander, winding silent by,
Beside Pactolean waves, among the vines
Of Timolus rising, or the wealthy tide
Of golden sanded Hermus, they allure
The sight, enchanted by the grateful dance;
Or with melodious sweetness charm the air,
And melt to softest languishment the soul.
What to the field of danger could incite
These tender sons of luxury? The lash
Of their fell sov'reign drove their shiv'ring backs
Through hail and tempest, which enrag'd the main,
And shook beneath their trembling steps the pile,
Conjoining Asia and the western world.
To them Mæonia hot with sulph'rous mines
Unites her troops. No tree adorns their fields,
Unbless'd by verdure. Ashes hide the soil;
Black are the rocks, and ev'ry hill deform'd
By conflagration. Helmets press their brows.
Two darts they brandish. On their woolly vests
A sword is girt; and hairy hides compose
Their bucklers round and small. The Mysians left
Olympus wood-envelop'd, left the meads,
Wash'd by Caïcus, and the baneful tide
Of Lycus, nurse to serpents. Next advance
An ancient nation, who in early times
By Trojan arms assail'd, their native land
Esteem'd less dear than freedom, and exchang'd
Their seat on Strymon, where in Thrace he pours
A freezing current, for the distant flood
Of fishy Sangar. These, Bithynians nam'd,
Their habitation to the sacred feet
Of Dindymus extend. Yet there they groan
Beneath oppression, and their freedom mourn
On Sangar now, as once on Strymon lost.
The ruddy skins of foxes cloth'd their heads.
Their shields were fashion'd like the horned Moon.
A vest embrac'd their bodies; while abroad,
Ting'd with unnumber'd hues, a mantle flow'd.

But other Thracians, who their former name
Retain'd in Asia, fulgent morions wore,
With horns of bulls in imitating brass,
Carv'd o'er the crested ridge. Phoenician cloth
Their legs infolded. Wont to chase the wolf,
A hunter's spear they grasp'd. What nations still
On either side of Xerxes, while he pass'd,
Their huge array discov'ring, swell his soul
With more than mortal pride? The cluster'd bands
Of Moschians and Macronians now appear,
The Mosynœcians, who, on berries fed,
In wooden tow'rs along the Pontic sands
Repose their painted limbs; the mirthful race
Of Tibarenians next, whose careless minds
Delight in play and laughter. Then advance
In garments, buckled on their spacious chests,
A people, destin'd in eternal verse,
Ev'n thine, sublime Moonides, to live.
These are the Milyans. Solymi their name
In thy celestial strains, Pisidia's bills
Their dwelling. Once a formidable train
They fac'd the strong Bellerophon in war.
Now doom'd a more tremendous foe to meet,
Themselves unnerv'd by thraldom, they must leave
Their putrid bodies to the dogs of Greece.

The Marians follow. Next is Aria's host,
Drawn from a region horrid all in thorn,

A dreary waste of sands, which mock the toil
Of patient culture; save one favour'd spot,
Which from the wild emerges like an isle,
Attir'd in verdure, intersper'd with vines
Of gen'rous nurture, yielding juice which scorns
The injuries of time: yet Nature's hand
Had sown their rocks with coral; had enrich'd
Their desert hills with veins of sapphires blue,
Which on the turban shine. On ev'ry neck
The coral blushes through the num'rous throng.
The Allarodians and Sasperian bands,
Equipp'd like Colchians, wield a falchion small.
Their heads are guarded by a helm of wood,
Their lances short, of hides undress'd their shields.
The Colchians march'd from Phasis, from the strand,
Where once Medea, fair enchantress, stood,
And, wond'ring, view'd the first advent'rous keel,
Which cut the Pontic foam. From Argo's side
The demigods descended. They repair'd
To her fell sire's inhospitable hall.
His blooming graces Jason there disclos'd.
With ev'ry art of eloquence divine

He claim'd the golden fleece. The virgin heard,
She gaz'd in fatal ravishment, and lov'd.
Then to the hero she resigus her heart.
Her magic tames the brazen-footed bulls.
She lulls the sleepless dragon. O'er the main
He wafts the golden prize, and gen'rous fair,
The destin'd victim of his treach'rous vows.
The hostile Colchians then pursu'd their flight
In vain. By ancient enmity inflam'd,
Or to recall the long-forgotten wrong
Compell'd by Xerxes, now they menace Greece
With desolation. Next in Median garb
A crowd appear'd, who left the peopled isles
In Persia's gulf, and round Arabia strewn.
Some in their native topaz were adorn'd,
From Ophiodes, from Topazos sprung;
Some in the shells of tortoises, which brood
Around Casitis' verge. For battle range
Those, who reside, where, all beset with palms,
Erythras lies entomb'd, a potent king,
Who nam'd of old the Erythræan main.

On chariots scyth'd the Libyans sat, array'd
In skins terrific, brandishing their darts
Of wood, well-temper'd in the hard'ning flames.
Not Libya's deserts from tyrannic sway
Could hide her sons; much less could freedom dwell
Amid the plenty of Arabia's fields:

Where spicy Cassia, where the fragrant reed,
Where myrrh, and hallow'd frankincense perfume
The Zephyr's wing. A bow of largest size
Th' Arabian carries. O'er bis lucid vest
Loose floats a mantle, on his shoulder clasp'd.
Two chosen myriads on the lofty backs
Of camels rode, who match'd the fleetest horse.
Such were the numbers, which, from Asia led,
In base prostration bow'd before the wheels
Of Xerxes' chariot. Yet what legions more
The Malian sand o'ershadow: Forward rolls
The regal car through nations, who in arins,
In order'd ranks unlike the orient tribes,
Upheld the spear and buckler. But, untaught
To bend the servile knee, erect they stood;
Unless that, mourning o'er the shameful weight
Of their new bondage, some their brows depress'd,
Their arms with grief distaining. Europe's sons
Were these, whom Xerxes by resistless force
Had gather'd round his standards. Murm'ring here,
The sons of Thrace and Macedonia rang'd;
Here on his steed the brave Thessalian frown'd;
There pin'd reluctant multitudes, of Greece
Redundant plants, in colonies dispers'd
Between Byzantium, and the Malian bay.

Through all the nations, who ador'd his pride,
Or fear'd his pow'r, the monarch now was pass'd;
Nor yet among those millions could be found
One, who in beauteous feature might compare,
Or tow'ring size with Xerxes. O possess'd
Of all but virtue, doom'd to show how mean,
How weak without her is unbounded pow'r,
The charm of beauty, and the blaze of state,
How insecure of happiness, how vain!
Thou, who couldst mourn the common lot, by Heav'n
From none withheld, which oft to thousands proves
Their only refuge from a tyrant's rage;
Which in consuming sickness, age, or pain
Becomes at last a soothing hope to all:
Thou, who couldst weep, that Nature's gentle hand
Should lay her weary'd offspring in the tomb;
Yet couldst remorseless from their peaceful seats
Lead half the nations, victims to thy pride,
To famine, plague, and massacre a prey;
What didst thou merit from the injur'd world?
What suff'rings to compensate for the tears
Of Asia's mothers, for unpeopled realms,
For all this waste of Nature? On his host
Th' exulting monarch bends his haughty sight,
To Demaratus then directs his voice.

"My father, great Darius, to thy mind Recall, O Spartan. Gracious he receiv'd Thy wand'ring steps, expell'd their native home. My favour too remember. To beguile Thy benefactor, and disfigure truth, Would ill become thee. With consid'rate eyes Look back on these battalions. Now declare, If yonder Grecians will oppose their march." To him the exile. "Deem not, mighty lord, I will deceive thy goodness by a tale To give them glory, who degraded mine. Nor be the king offended, while I use The voice of truth. The Spartans never fly." Contemptuous smil'd the monarch, and resuma

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 thau 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 fail'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. 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 licness, 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.
"Caria's queen
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,

"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, her sons enthrall”