BOOK I. (Rehearse, O Muse, the deeds and glorious…)

Rehearse, O Muse, the deeds and glorious death Of that fam'd Spartan, who withstood the pow'r Of Xerxes near Thermopylae, and fell To save his country. When from Asia's coast With half the nations of the peopled globe The Persian king the Hellespont had pass'd, And now in Thrace his boundless camp was spread; Soon to the Isthmus, where th'assembled chiefs Of Greece in anxious council long had sat, How best their menac'd liberties to guard, The dreadful tidings reach'd. The near approach Of Asia's lord determines their resolves. These they convey to all the Grecian states. Back to Eurotas' shores, where Sparta rose, Laconian Alpheus speeds: in council there He finds the Spartan people with their kings; Their kings, who boast an origin divine, From Hercules descended. They the sons Of Lacedaemon had conven'd to learn The sacred mandates of th' immortal Gods, That morn expected from the Delphian dome; But in their presence Alpheus first appear'd, And thus address'd them. For immediate war Prepare, O Spartans. Xerxes' num'rous pow'rs Already fill the trembling bounds of Thrace. The Isthmian council hath decreed to guard The strait and rocky entrance into Greece, Thermopylae; where ev'n a slender force May stem the torrent of unnumber'd foes.

HE said, when Leotychides, who shar'd The rule with great Leonidas, bespake The Spartans thus. My countrymen give ear. Why from her bosom should Laconia send Her valiant sons to wage a distant war For others' safety; why exhaust her strength And thin her numbers in defence of those, Who far remote from Lacedaemon dwell Beyond the Isthmus? there the Gods have plac'd Our native ramparts, there our empire's bound; And there alone our country claims our swords.

HE ceas'd. The people with assenting shouts Replied, when thus Leonidas began.

O MOST ungen'rous counsel! most unjust, And base desertion of the Grecian weal! What! shall th'Athenians, whose assiduous fleets Undaunted watch th' innumerable foes, Where'er they menace our affrighted shores, And trust th' impending dangers of the field To Sparta's well-known valour; shall they hear, That we, disowning thus the gen'ral cause, Maintain the Isthmus only, and expose The rest of Greece, ev'n Athens, while she guards Our naked coasts, to all the waste of war, Her walls to ruin, and her fields to flames, Her sons, her matrons, and her hoary sires To violation, servitude, and shame? O should they hear such counsels guide our state, Would they not court the first propitious gale To waft them far from such perfidious friends, And raise new seats in other climes remote, Safe from insulting foes, and false allies? Then should we soon behold the proud array Of Xerxes' navy with their hostile beaks Affront our shores, and deluge all our fields With inexhausted numbers. Half the Greeks, By us betray'd to bondage, would support The Persian king, and lift th' avenging spear For our destruction. But my friends reject Such mean and dang'rous counsels, which will blast Your long establish'd glories, and assist The proud invader. O eternal king Of Gods and mortals elevate our minds! Each low and partial passion thence dispel! Till this great truth in ev'ry heart be known, That none, but those, who aid the publick cause, Can shield their countries, or themselves from chains.

HE said, by shame suppress'd each clam'rous voice Was lost in silence; till a gen'ral shout Proclaim'd th' approach of Agis from the fane, Where, taught by Phoebus on the Delphic hill, The Pythian maid his oracles reveal'd. He came; but discontent and grief o'ercast His anxious brow. Reluctant he advanc'd, And now prepar'd to speak. Th' impatient throng Was gather'd round him; motionless they stood With expectation; not a whisper told The silent fear, but all on Agis gaze; And still as death attend the solemn tale. As o'er the western waves, when ev'ry storm Is hush'd within its cavern, and a breeze Soft-breathing lightly with its wings along The slacken'd cordage glides, the sailor's ear Perceives no sound throughout the vast expanse; None, but the murmurs of the sliding prowe, Which slowly parts the smooth and yielding main: So through the wide and listning croud no sound, No voice, but thine, O Agis, broke the air, Declaring thus the oracle divine.

I WENT to Delphi; I enquir'd what fate Was doom'd to Sparta from th'impending war; When thus th' all-seeing deity replied. "Inhabitants of Sparta, Persia's arms "Shall lay your proud and ancient seat in dust; "Unless a king from Hercules deriv'd "Cause Lacedaemon for his death to mourn."

AS, when the hand of Perseus had disclos'd The snakes of dirc Medusa; all, who view'd The Gorgon features, were congeal'd to stone, With ghastly eye-balls on the hero bent, And horrour living in their marble form: Thus with amazement rooted, where they stood, And froze with speechless terrour, on their kings The Spartans gaz'd: but soon their anxious looks All on the great Leonidas unite, Long known his country's refuge. He alone Remains unshaken. Rising, he displays His godlike presence. Dignity and grace Adorn his frame, and manly beauty join'd With strength Herculean. On his aspect shines Sublimest virtue, and desire of fame, Where justice gives the laurel; in his eye The inextinguishable spark, which fires The souls of patriots: while his brow supports Undaunted valour, and contempt of death. Serene he rose, and thus address'd the throng.

WHY this astonishment on ev'ry face, Ye men of Sparta? Does the name of death Create this fear and wonder? O my friends! Why do we labour through the arduous paths, Which lead to virtue? Fruitless were the toil, Above the reach of human feet were plac'd The distant summit, if the fear of death Could intercept our passage. But in vain His blackest frowns and terrours he assumes To shake the firmness of the mind, which knows, That wanting virtue life is pain and woe, That wanting liberty ev'n virtue mourns, And looks around for happiness in vain. Then speak, O Sparta, and demand my life; My heart exulting answers to thy call, And smiles on glorious fate. To live with fame The Gods allow to many; but to die With equal lustre, is a blessing, Heav'n Selects from all the choicest boons of fate, And with a sparing hand on few bestows.

HE said. New wonder fix'd the gazing throng. In silence Joy and Admiration sat, Suspending praise. At length with high acclaim The arch of heav'n resounded, when amid Th' assembly stood Dieneces, and spake.

SO from Thermopylae may Sparta's shouts Affright the ear of Asia! Haste, my friends, To guard the gates of Greece, which open stand To Tyranny and Rapine. They with dread Will shrink before your standards, and again In servile Persia seek their native seats. Your wives, your sons, your parents, general Greece Forbid delay; and equal to the cause A chief behold: can Spartans ask for more?

HE ceas'd; when Alpheus thus. It well becomes The Spartans held the chiefs of Greece, and fam'd For dauntless courage, and unyielding hearts, Which neither want, nor pain, nor death, can bend, To lead the rest to battle. Then with speed From all your number form a chosen band, While I returning, will my seat resume Among the Isthmian council, and declare Your instant march. Our brave allies, I deem, Now on the Isthmus wait the Spartan king; All but the Locrian and Boeotian force, With Phocis' youth, appointed to secure Thermopylae. This said, not long he paus'd, But with unwearied steps his course renews.

NOW from th' assembly with majestic steps Forth moves their godlike king, with conscious worth His gen'rous bosom glowing; like his sire, Th' invincible Alcides, when he trod With ardent speed to face in horrid war The triple form of Geryon, or against The bulk of huge Antaeus match his strength.

SAY, Muse, who next present their dauntless breasts To meet all danger in their country's cause? Dieneces advances sage, and brave, And skill'd along the martial field to range The order'd ranks of battle; Maron next, To Alpheus dear, his brother, and his friend. Then rose Megistias with his blooming heir, Joy of his age, and Menalippus call'd; Megistias, wise and venerable seer, Whose penetrating mind, as fame records, Could from the entrails of the victim slain Before the altar, and the mystic flight Of birds foresee the dark events of time. Though sprung a stranger on the distant shore Of Acarnania, for his worth receiv'd, And hospitably cherish'd; he the wreath Pontific bore amid the Spartan camp; Serene in danger, nor his sacred arm From warlike toils secluding, nor unskill'd To wield the sword, or poize the weighty spear. Him Agis follow'd, brother to the queen Of great Leonidas; his friend, in war His tried companion. Graceful were his steps, And gentle his demeanour. Still his soul Preserv'd its rigid virtue, though refin'd With arts unknown to Lacedaemon's race. High was his office. He, when Sparta's weal Their aid and counsel from the Gods requir'd, Was sent the sacred messenger to learn Their mystic will in oracles declar'd From rocky Delphi, and Dodona's shade, Or sea-incircled Delos, or the cell Of dark Trophonius round Boeotia known. Three hundred more compleat th' intrepid band.

BUT to his home Leonidas retir'd. There calm in secret thought he thus explor'd His mighty soul, while nature to his breast A short-liv'd terrour call'd. What sudden grief, What cold reluctance thus unmans my heart, And whispers, that I fear?—Can death dismay Leonidas, so often seen and scorn'd, When clad most dreadful in the battle's front?— Or to relinquish life in all its pride, With all my honours blooming round my head, Repines my soul? or rather to forsake, Eternally forsake my weeping wife, My infant offspring, and my faithful friends?— Leonidas awake! Shall these withstand The public safety? Lo! thy country calls. O sacred voice, I hear thee! At that sound Returning virtue brightens in my heart; Fear vanishes before her; Death receive My unreluctant hand, and lead me on. Thou too, O Fame, attendant on my fall, With wings unwearied shalt protect my tomb, Nor Time himself shall violate my praise.

THE hero thus confirm'd his virtuous soul, When Agis enter'd. If till now my tongue (He thus began) O brother, has delay'd To pay its grateful off'ring of the praise, Thy merit claims, and only fill'd the cries Of general applause, forgive thy friend; Since her distresses, hers, whom most you love, Detain'd me from thee. O unequall'd man! Though Lacedaemon call thy first regard, Forget not her, who now for thee laments In sorrows, which fraternal love in vain Hath strove to sooth. Leonidas embrac'd His gen'rous friend, and thus replied. Most dear And best of men! conceive not, but my heart Must still remember her, from whom my life Its largest share of happiness derives. Can I, who yield my breath, lest others mourn, Lest thousands should be wretched; when she pines, More lov'd than any, though less dear than all, Can I neglect her griefs! In future days If thou with grateful memory record My name and fate, O Sparta, pass not this Unheeded by. The life, I gave for thee, Knew not a painful hour to tire my soul, Nor were they common joys, I left behind.

SO spake the patriot, and his heart o'erflow'd With fondest passion; then in eager haste The faithful partner of his bed he sought. Amid her weeping children sat the queen, Immoveable and mute; her swimming eyes Fix'd on the earth. Her arms were folded o'er Her lab'ring bosom blotted with her tears. As, when a dusky mist involves the sky, The moon through all the dreary vapours spreads The radiant vesture of its silver light O'er the dull face of nature; so her charms Divinely graceful shone upon her grief, Bright'ning the cloud of woe. The chief approach'd. Soon as in gentlest phrase his well-known voice Her drooping mind awaken'd, for a time Its cares were hush'd: she lifts her languid head, And thus gives utt'rance to her tender thoughts.

O THOU, whose presence is my only joy, If thus, Leonidas, thy looks and voice Can dissipate at once the sharpest pangs, How greatly am I wretched; who no more Must hear that voice, which lulls my anguish thus, Nor see that face, which makes affliction smile!

THIS said, returning grief her breast invades. Her orphan children, her devoted lord Pale, bleeding, breathless on the field of death, Her ever-during solitude of woe, All rise in mingled horrour to her sight, When thus in bitt'rest agony she spoke.

O WHITHER art thou going from my arms! Shall I no more behold thee! Oh! no more In conquest clad, and wrapt in glorious dust Wilt thou return to greet thy native soil, And make thy dwelling joyfull Yet, too brave, Why wouldst thou hasten to the dreary gates Of death, uncall'd? Another might have fall'n, Like thee a victim of Alcides' race, Less dear to all, and Sparta been secure. Now ev'ry eye with mine is drown'd in tears, All with these babes lament their father lost. But oh! how heavy is our lot of pain! Our sighs must last, when ev'ry other breast Exults with transport, and the public joy Will but increase our anguish. Yet unmov'd, Thou didst not heed our sorrows, didst not seek A moment's pause, to teach us how to bear Thy endless absence, or like thee to die.

UNUTTERABLE sorrow here confin'd Her voice. These words Leonidas return'd.

I SEE, I feel thy anguish, nor my soul Has ever known the prevalence of love, E'er prov'd a father's fondness, as this hour; Nor, when most ardent to assert my fame, Was once my heart insensible to thee. How had it stain'd the honours of my name To hesitate a moment, and suspend My country's fate, till shameful life prefer'd By my inglorious colleague left no choice, But what in me were infamy to shun, Not virtue to accept? Then deem no more, That of thy love regardless, or thy tears, I haste uncall'd to death. The voice of Fate, The Gods, my fame, my country bid me bleed. —Oh! thou dear mourner! wherefore streams afresh That flood of woe? Why heaves with sighs renew'd That tender breast? Leonidas must fall. Alas! far heavier misery impends O'er thee and these, if soften'd by thy tears I shamefully refuse to yield that breath, Which justice, glory, liberty, and heav'n Claim for my country, for my sons, and thee. Think on my long unalter'd love. Reflect On my paternal fondness. Has my heart E'er known a pause of love, or pious care? Now shall that care, that tenderness be prov'd Most warm and faithful. When thy husband dies. For Lacedaemon's safety, thou wilt share, Thou and thy children, the diffusive good. Should I, thus singled from the rest of men, Alone intrusted by th 'immortal Gods With pow'r to save a people, should my soul Desert that sacred cause, thee too I yield To sorrow, and to shame; for thou must weep With Lacedaemon, must with her sustain Thy painful portion of oppression's weight. Thy sons behold now worthy of their names, And Spartan birth. Their growing bloom must pine In shame and bondage, and their youthful hearts Beat at the sound of liberty no more. On their own virtue, and their father's fame, When he the Spartan freedom hath confirm'd, Before the world illustrious shall they rise, Their country's bulwark, and their mother's joy.

HERE paus'd the patriot. With religious awe Grief heard the voice of Virtue. No complaint The solemn silence broke. Tears ceas'd to flow: Ceas'd for a moment; soon again to stream. For now in arms before the palace rang'd His brave companions of the war demand Their leader's presence; then her griefs renew'd, Too great for utt'rance, intercept her sighs, And freeze each accent on her falt'ring tongue. In speechless anguish on the hero's breast She sinks. On ev'ry side his children press, Hang on his knees, and kiss his honour'd hand. His soul no longer struggles to confine Its strong compunction. Down the hero's cheek, Down flows the manly sorrow. Great in woe Amid his children, who inclose him round, He stands indulging tenderness and love In graceful tears; when thus with lifted eyes Address'd to heav'n: Thou ever-living pow'r Look down propitious, sire of Gods and men! And to this faithful woman, whose desert May claim thy favour, grant the hours of peace. And thou, my great forefather, son of Jove, O Hercules, neglect not these thy race! But since that spirit, I from thee derive, Now bears me from them to resistless fate, Do thou support their virtue! be they taught, Like thee, with glorious labour life to grace, And from their father let them learn to die!

SO saying, forth he issues, and assumes Before the band his station of command. They now proceed. So mov'd the host of heav'n Down from Olympus in majestic march, On Jove attendant to the flaming plains Of Phlegra, there to face the giant sons Of Earth and Titan: he before them tow'r'd. Thus through the streets of Lacedaemon pass'd Leonidas. Before his footsteps bow The multitude exulting. On he treads Rever'd and honour'd. Their inraptur'd sight Pursues his graceful stature, and their tongues Extol and hail him as their guardian God. Firm in his nervous hand he grasps his spear. Down from his shoulders to his ankles hangs The massy shield, and o'er his burnish'd helm The purple plumage nods. Harmonious youths, Around whose brows entwining laurels play'd, In lofty-sounding strains his praise record; While snowy-finger'd virgins all the ways With od'rous garlands strew'd. His bosom now Was all possess'd with glory, which dispell'd Whate'er of grief remain'd, or fond regret For those, he left behind. The rev'rend train Of Lacedaemon's senate now approach'd To give their solemn, last farewel, and grace Their hero's parting steps. Around him flow'd In civil pomp their venerable robes Mix'd with the blaze of arms. The radiant troop Of warriours press'd behind him. Maron here, With Menalippus warm in flow'ry prime, And Agis there with manly grace advanc'd, Dieneces, and Acarnania's seer, Megistias sage. The Spartan dames ascend The loftiest domes, and thronging o'er the roofs Gaze on their sons and husbands, as they march. So parted Argo from th' Iolchian strand, And plough'd the foaming surge. Thessalia's nymphs Their hills forsaking, and their hallow'd groves, Rang'd on the cliffs, which overshade the deep, Still on the distant vessel fix'd their sight; Where Greece her chosen heroes had embark'd To seek the dangers of the Cholchian shore.

SWIFT on his course Leonidas proceeds. Soon is Eurotas pass'd, and Lerna's banks, Where his unconquer'd ancestor subdu'd The many-headed Hydra, and with fame Immortaliz'd the lake. Th'unwearied bands Next through the pines of Maenalus he led, And down Parthenius urg'd the rapid toil. Six days incessant thus the Spartans march, When now they hear the hoarse-resounding tide Beat on the Isthmus. Here their tents they spread. Below the wide horizon then the sun Had sunk his beamy head. The queen of night Gleam'd from the center of th'ethereal vault, And o'er the dusky robe of darkness shed Her silver light. Leonidas detains Dieneces and Agis. Open stands The tall pavilion, and admits the moon. As here they sat conversing, from the hill, Which rose before them, one of noble port Appears with speed descending. Lightly down The slope he treads, and calls aloud. They heard, And knew the voice of Alpheus. From their seats They rose, and thus Leonidas began.

O THOU, whom heav'n with swiftness hath endu'd To match the ardour of thy daring soul, What calls thee from the Isthmus? Do the Greeks Neglect to arm, nor face the public foe?

I COME to meet thee (Alpheus thus return'd) A messenger, who gladsome tidings bears. Through Greece the voice of liberty is heard, And all unfold their banners in her cause; The Thebans only with reluctant hands. Arcadia's sons with morning shalt thou join, Who on the Isthmus wait thy great command. With Diophantus Mantinéa sends Five hundred spears; nor less from Tegea's walls With Hegesander move. A thousand more, Who in Orchomenus reside, who range Along Parrhasius, and Cyllene's brow, Or near the foot of Erymanthus dwell, Or on Alphéus' banks, with various chiefs, Attend thy call; but most is Clonius fam'd Of stature huge: unshaken as a rock, His giant bulk the line of war sustains. Four hundred warriours brave Alcmaeon draws From stately Corinth's tow'rs. Two hundred march From Phlius, whom Eupalamus commands. An equal number of Mycenae's race Aristobulus heads. Through fear alone Of thee, and threatning Greece the Thebans arm. To these inglorious Greeks my self repair'd Their dying sense of honour to recal. A few corrupted by the Persian gold, Unjust dominion have usurp'd in Thebes. These in each bosom quell the gen'rous flame Of liberty. The eloquent they bribe; With specious tales the multitude they cheat; And prostitute the name of public good To veil oppression. Others are immers'd In all the sloth of riches, and unmov'd In shameful ease behold their country fall. I first implor'd their senate's instant aid, But they with artful wiles demanding time For consultation, I address'd them thus. The shortest moment may suffice to know, If to die free be better than to serve; But if, deluding Greece by vain delays, You mean to shew your friendship to the foe, You cannot then deliberate too long, How to withstand her swift-avenging wrath, Approaching with Leonidas. This heard, Four hundred warriours they appoint to march. The wily Anaxander is their chief, With Leontiades. I saw their march Begun, then hasten'd to survey the straits, Which thou shalt render sacred to renown. Where, ever mingling with the crumbling soil, Which moulders round the Malian bay, the sea In slimy surges rolls; upon the rock, Which forms the utmost limit of the bay, Thermopylae is stretch'd. Where broadest spread, It measures threescore paces, bounded here By the deep ooze, which underneath presents Its dreary surface; there the lofty cliffs Of woody Oeta overlook the pass, And far beyond o'er half the surge below Their horrid umbrage cast. Across the straits An ancient bulwark of the Phocians stands, A wall with turrets crown'd. In station here I found the Locrians, and from Thespia's gates Sev'n hundred more Demophilus hath led. His brother's son attends him to the camp, Young Dithyrambus greatly fam'd in war, But more for temperance of mind renown'd; Lov'd by his country, and with honours grac'd, His early bloom with brightest glory shines, Nor wantons in the blaze. Here Agis spake.

WELL hast thou painted that illustrious youth. He was my host at Thespia. Though adorn'd With highest deeds, by fame and fortune crown'd, His gentle virtues take from envy's mouth Its blasting venom, and her baneful face Strives on his worth to smile. In silence all Again remain, and Alpheus thus pursues.

A CHOSEN troop hath bold Plataea sent, Small in its numbers, but unmatch'd in arms. Above the rest Diomedon their chief Excels in prowess. Signal were his deeds Upon that day of glory, when the fields Of Marathon were hid with Persian slain. These guard Thermopylae. Among the hills A winding path to stranger's feet unknown Affords another entrance into Greece: This by a thousand Phocians is secur'd.

HERE Alpheus paus'd. Leonidas embrac'd The noble Spartan, and rejoin'd. Thou know'st What fate to me th' immortal Gods ordain. Frame now thy choice. Accompany our march, Or go to Lacedaemon, and relate, How thy discerning mind, and active limbs Have serv'd thy country. From th' impatient mouth Of Alpheus streight these fervent accents broke.

I HAVE not measur'd such a tract of land, Not look'd unwearied on the setting sun, And through the shade of midnight urg'd my steps To rouse the Greeks to battle, that myself Might be exempted from the glorious toil. Return? Oh! no. A second time my feet Shall visit thee, Thermopylae, and there With great Leonidas shall Alpheus find An honourable grave. And oh! amid His country's danger if a Spartan breast May feel a private sorrow, not alone For injur'd Greece I hasten to revenge, But for a brother's wrongs. A younger hope Than I, or Maron bless'd our father's years, Child of his age, and Polydorus nam'd. His mind, while tender in its op'ning prime, Was bent to rigid virtue. Gen'rous scorn Of pain and danger taught his early strength To struggle patient with severest toils. Oft, when inclement winter chill'd the air, And frozen show'rs had swoln Eurotas' stream, Amid th' impetuous channel would he plunge, And breast the torrent. On a fatal day, As in the sea his active limbs he bath'd, A servile corsair of the Persian king My brother, naked and defenceless, bore Ev'n in my sight to Asia, there to waste, With all the promise of its growing worth, His youth in bondage. Never can my tongue My pains recount, much less my father's woes, The days he wept, the sleepless nights he beat His aged bosom. And shall Alpheus' spear Be absent from Thermopylae, nor claim, O Polydorus, vengeance for thy bonds In that first slaughter of the barb'rous foe?

HERE interpos'd Dieneces. The hands Of Alpheus and Leonidas he grasp'd, And joyful thus. Your glory wants no more, Than that Lycurgus should himself arise To praise the virtue, which his laws inspire.

THUS pass'd these heroes, till the dead of night, The hours in friendly converse, and enjoy'd Each other's virtue; happiest of men! At length with gentle heaviness the hand Of sleep invades their eyelids. On the ground, Oppress'd with slumber, they extend their limbs; When, sliding down the hemisphere, the moon Now plung'd in midnight gloom her silver head.