Leonidas. Book III

Now had Tigranes, and Phraortes gain'd The splendid tent of Xerxes. Him they found Begirt with princes, and illustrious chiefs, The potentates of Asia. Near his side His valiant brothers stood, Abrocomes, And Hyperanthes, then Pharnuchus brave, Pandates, Intaphernes, mighty lords, And numbers more in purple splendour clad, With homage all attending round the throne, Whose gorgeous seat erected high upbore Their regal master. He above their heads Look'd down imperious. So the stately tow'r Of Belus, mingling its majestick front With heav'n's bright azure, from on high survey'd The huge extent of Babylon, with all Its sumptuous domes and palaces beneath. That day the monarch deem'd to enter Greece, And hide her fields with war; but first ordains, That grateful hymns should celebrate the name Of Oromasdes: so the Persians call'd The world's great author. By the king's decree The Magi stood before th' unfolded tent. Fire blaz'd beside them. Tow'rds the sacred flame They turn'd, and sent their tuneful praise to heav'n.

FROM Zoroastres was the song deriv'd, Who on the hills of Persia from his cave With flow'rs incircled, and with murm'ring founts, That chear'd the solemn mansion, had reveal'd, How Oromasdes, radiant source of good, Original, immortal fram'd the globe With all its varied beauty: how with stars By him the heav'ns were spangled: how the sun, Refulgent Mithra, purest spring of light, And genial warmth, whence fruitful Nature smiles, Burst from the east at his creating voice; When streight beyond the golden verge of day Night shew'd the horrours of her distant reign, Whence black, and hateful Arimanius sprung, The author foul of evil: he with shades From his dire mansion veil'd the earth and skies, Or to destruction chang'd the solar beam, When parching fields deny the foodful grain, And from their channels fly th' exhaling streams, Whence pestilence, and famine: how the pow'r Of Oromasdes in the human breast Benevolence, and equity infus'd, Truth, temperance, and wisdom sprung from heav'n; When Arimanius blacken'd all the soul With falshood, and injustice, with desires Insatiable, with violence, and rage, Malignity, and folly. If the hand Of Oromasdes on precarious life Shed wealth, and pleasure, soon th' infernal God With wild excess, or av'rice blasts the joy. Thou, Oromasdes, victory dost give. By thee with fame the regal head is crown'd. Great Xerxes owns thy succour. When with storms The hate of direful Arimanius swell'd The Hellespont, thou o'er the angry surge The destin'd master of the world didst lead, This day his promis'd glories to enjoy, When Greece affrighted to his arm shall bend; Ev'n as at last shall Arimanius fall Before thy might, and evil be no more.

THE Magi ceas'd their harmony; when now Before the king with adoration bow'd Tigranes and Phraortes. Prone they lay, And o'er their foreheads spread their abject hands, As from a present deity too bright For mortal vision to conceal their eyes. At length in humble phrase Tigranes thus.

O XERXES, live for ever! Gracious lord! Who dost permit thy servants to approach Thy awful sight, and prostrate thus to own Thy majesty and greatness. May the pow'r Of Oromasdes stretch thy scepter'd arm O'er all the nations from the Indian shores, Ev'n to the waters of the western main, From northern Tanais to the source of Nile! And still from thee may Arimanius turn Against thy foes his malice to mankind! By him, ev'n now with frenzy smote, the Greeks Reject thy proffer'd clemency. The morn Shall see them bleed the victims of thy wrath.

HERE, to his brothers turning, Xerxes spake. Say, Hyperanthes? Does thy soul believe These tydings? Sure these slaves have never dar'd To face the Grecians, but delude our ear With base impostures, which their fears suggest.

To him this answer Hyperanthes form'd. O from his servants may the king avert His indignation! Greece was fam'd of old For martial virtue, and intrepid sons: I have essay'd their valour, and with me Abrocomes can witness. When our sire The great Darius to th' Athenian shore With Artaphernes, and with Datis sent Our tender youth; at Marathon we found, How vain the hopes, that numbers should dismay A foe resolv'd on victory, or death. Yet not as one contemptible, or base Let me appear before thee: though the Greeks With such unconquer'd spirits be indu'd, Soon as the king shall summon me to war, He shall behold me in the dang'rous van Exalt my spear, and pierce the hostile ranks, Or sink before them. Xerxes then return'd;

WHY over Asia, and the Libyan soil, With all their nations does my potent arm Extend its scepter? Wherefore do I sweep Across the globe with millions in my train? Why shade the Ocean with unnumber'd sails? Whence all this pow'r, unless th' eternal will Had doom'd to give one master to the world, And that the earth's extremity alone Should bound my empire? He for this reduc'd Revolted Aegypt, and inlarg'd my sway With sandy Libya, and the sultry clime Of Aethiopia. He for this subdu'd The Hellespontic rage, and taught the sea Obedience to my pow'r. Then cease to think, That heav'n deserting now the cause of kings Those despicable Grecians will inspire With courage more than human, and expunge The common fears of nature from their breasts. He ceas'd, when thus Abrocomes began.

THE king commands us to reveal our hearts: Then may the sun to lightning change his beams And blast my head with ruin; may the king Look on his servant with a loathing eye, If what I here affirm be false, or vain, That yonder Grecians will oppose our course.

THE king arose. No more: prepare my Car; The Spartan exile Demaratus call: We will our selves advance and view the foe.

THE monarch will'd; and suddenly he hears His trampling horses. High on silver wheels The iv'ry car with azure sapphirs shone, Caerulean beryls, and the jasper green, The emerald, the ruby's glowing blush, The flaming topaz with its golden beam, The pearl, th' impurpled amathyst, and all The various gems, which India's mines afford To deck the pomp of kings. In burnish'd gold A sculptur'd eagle from behind displays Its stately neck, and o'er the monarch's head Extends its dazzling wings. Eight gen'rous steeds, Which on the fam'd Nysaean plain were nurs'd In wintry Media, drew the radiant car. Not those of old to Hercules refus'd By false Laomedon, nor they, which bore The son of Thetis through the scatter'd rear Of Troy's devoted race, might these surpass In strength, or beauty. With obedient pride They heard their lord: exulting in the air They toss'd their foreheads, while the silver manes Smote on their glitt'ring necks. The king ascends: Beside his footstool Demaratus sat. The charioteer now shakes the golden reins, Bold Patiramphes. At the signal bound Th' attentive steeds; the chariot flew; behind Ten thousand horse in thunder swept the field. The eastern bands (so Xerxes had ordain'd) Between the sea-beat margin, and the camp All wait imbattled, all prepar'd to pass Thermopylae. To these with rapid wheels Th' imperial car proceeds. Th' approaching king Soon through the wide battalions is proclaim'd. He now draws nigh. Th' innumerable host Roll back by nations, and admit their lord With all his satraps. From his crystal dome Rais'd on the bottom of the watry world Thus when the potent ruler of the floods With each caerulean deity ascends, Thron'd on his pearly chariot; all the deep Divides its bosom to th' emerging God. So Xerxes rode between the Asian world On either side receding; when, as down Th' immeasurable ranks his sight was lost, A momentary gloom o'ercast his mind, While this reflection fill'd his eyes with tears: That soon, as Time an hundred years had told, Not one of all those thousands should survive. Whence to obscure thy pride arose that cloud? Was it, that once humanity could touch A tyrant's breast? or rather did thy soul Repine, O Xerxes, at the bitter thought, That all thy pow'r was mortal? But the veil Of sadness soon forsook his brightning eyes, As with adoring homage millions bow'd, And to his heart relentless pride recall'd. Elate the mingled prospect he surveys Of glitt'ring files unnumber'd, chariots scyth'd On thund'ring axles roll'd with haughty steeds In sumptuous trappings clad (Barbaric pomp) Which tore with spurning hoofs the sandy beach; While ev'ry banner to the sun expands Its gorgeous folds, that beam'd with gold, with shields, Tiaras, helms environ'd, and with spears In number equal to the bladed grass, Whose living green in vernal beauty cloaths Thessalia's vale. What pow'rs of sounding verse Can to the mind present th' amazing scene? Not thee, whom Rumour's fabling voice delights, Poetic Fancy, to my aid I call; But thou, historic Truth, support my song, Which shall the various multitude display, Their arms, their manners, and their native seats.

THE Persians first in scaly corselets shone With colours varying on the gorgeous sleeves, A gen'rous nation. From their infant age Their tongues were practic'd in the love of truth, Their limbs inur'd to ev'ry manly toil, To brace the bow, to rule th' impetuous steed, And dart the javelin; worthy to enjoy The liberty, their injur'd fathers lost, Whose arms for Cyrus overturn'd the strength Of Babylon and Sardis, and advanc'd The victors head above his country's laws. Such were the Persians; but untaught to form The ranks of battle, with unequal force Against the phalanx of the Greeks they stood, And to the massy shield, and weighty spear A target light, and slender lance oppos'd. On ev'ry head tiaras rose, like tow'rs, Impenetrable. All with burnish'd gold Blaz'd their gay sandals, and the floating reins Of each proud courser. Daggers from their thighs, A well-stor'd quiver from their shoulders hung, And strongest bows of mighty size they bore. Next, with resembling arms the Medes are seen, The Cissians, and Hyrcanians. Media once From her bleak mountains aw'd the subject East. Her kings in cold Ecbatana were thron'd. The Cissians march'd from Susa's regal walls, From sultry fields o'erspread with branching palms, And white with lillies, water'd by the tides Of fam'd Choaspes, whose transparent waves The golden goblet wafts to Persia's kings. No other stream the royal lip bedews. Hyrcania's race forsook their fruitful clime Dark with the verdure of expanding oaks, To Ceres dear and Bacchus. There the corn Bent by its golden burthen sheds unreap'd Its plenteous seed impregnating the soil With future harvests; while the bees reside Among th' intwining branches of the groves, Where with their labours they enrich the leaves, Which flow with sweetness. Next, Assyria's sons Their brazen helms display, th'unskilful work Of rude Barbarians. Thick-wove flax defends Their chest and loins. A buckler guards their arm. Girt with a falchion each a mace sustains O'erlaid with iron. On Euphrates' banks In Babylon's stupendous walls they dwell, And o'er the plains, where once with mightier tow'rs Old Ninus rear'd its head, th' imperial seat Of eldest tyrants. These Chaldaea joins, The land of shepherds. On 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 deem'd The chief of Gods. His heav'n-ascending fane In Babylon the proud Assyrians rais'd. Drawn from the fertile soil, which Ochus laves, The Bactrians stood, like Persia's bands attir'd, Though less their javelins, and their bows of cane; The Paricanians next all rough with hides Of shaggy goats, with bows and daggers arm'd. Alike in horrid garb the Caspian train From barren mountains, and the dreary coast, Which bounds the stormy lake, that bears their name, With cany bows, and scymetars were led. The Indians then a threefold band appear'd. Part guide the horse, and part the rapid car; The rest on foot within the bending cane For slaughter held their iron-pointed reeds. These o'er the Indus from the distant floods Of Ganges pass'd, and left a region lov'd By lavish Nature. There the plenteous year Twice crown'd with harvests smiles. The honey'd shrub, The cinnamon, and spikenard bless their fields. Array'd in native wealth the warriours shone. Their ears were grac'd with pendants, and their hands Incircled wore a bracelet starr'd with gems. These were the nations, who to Xerxes sent Their mingled aids of infantry and horse.

NOW, Muse, recount what numbers yet untold On foot obscur'd the surface of the shore; Or who in chariots, or on camels beat The loosen'd sand. The Parthians first advance, Then weak in numbers o'er the Malian strand Far from their lonely vales, and woody hills, Not yet renown'd for warlike steeds, they trod. With them the Sogdians, Dadices arrang'd, Gandarians, and Chorasmians, all attir'd, Like Bactria's sons. To these the Saces join, From cold Imaüs drawn, from Oxus' waves, And Cyra built on Iäxartes' brink, The bound of Persia's Empire. Wild, untam'd, And prone to rage, their desarts they forsook. A bow, a falchion, and a pond'rous ax The savage legions arm'd. A pointed cask O'er each grim visage rear'd its iron cone. In arms, like Persians, the Saranges stood. High as the knee their buskins stretch'd, and clung Around their ham. With glowing colours dy'd Gay shone their varied garments. Next are seen The Pactyan, Mycian, and the Utian train In skins of goats, all horrid. Bows they wield Of springy reed, with poynards at their sides. With spotted hides of leopards all array'd, Or with the spoil from tawny lions torn, In graceful range the Aethiopians stand Of equal stature, and a beauteous frame; Though scorching Phoebus had imbrown'd their face, And curl'd their crisped 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' Aegyptian bound, Forc'd by their kings' malignity and pride These friends of hospitality and peace, Themselves uninjur'd, wag'd reluctant war Against a land, whose climate, and whose name To them were strange. With hardest stone they point The rapid arrow. Bows of hideous length, Form'd with th'elastic branches of the palm, They bore, and lances arm'd with horns of goats, And maces strong with iron. Now, O Muse, Recite the nations, who in helmets fram'd Of various parts, and close-connected joints, With darts, and poynards, shields, and lances weak, A feeble train, attend their tyrant's will, All victims destin'd to imbrue with gore The Grecian spears; the Paphlagonians first From where Carambis with projected brows O'erlooks the dusky Euxine wrapt in mists, And where through flow'rs, that paint its various banks, Parthenius flows; the Mariandynians next, The Matienian, and the Ligyan bands, With them the Syrian multitudes, who dwell Near Daphne's grove, who cultivate the glebe Wide-water'd by Orontes, who along Th' extended ridge of Libanus are nurs'd Among the cedars, or with foodful dates Pluckt from the palms, whose fruitage grac'd the plains Around 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 winding Jordan, till immers'd it sleep Beneath the pitchy surface, which obscures Th' Asphaltic lake. The Phrygians then advance. To them their ancient colony is join'd, Th' Armenian bands. These see the bursting springs Of strong Euphrates cleave the yielding earth, And wide in lakes expanding hide the plain. Thence with collected waters fierce and deep Its passage rending through diminish'd rocks To Babylon it foams. Not so the wave Of soft Araxes to the Caspian glides. But stealing imperceptibly it laves The fruitful herbage of Armenia's meads. Next, strange to view, in similar attire, Though far unlike in manners to the Greeks, Appear the Lydians. Wantonness and sport Were all their care. Beside Caÿster's stream, Or smooth Maeander winding silent by, Or near Pactolus' wave among the vines Of Tmolus rising, or the wealthy tide Of golden-sanded Hermus they allure The sight enchanted with the graceful dance, Or with melodious sweetness charm the air, And melt to softest languishment the soul. What to the battle's danger could incite These tender sons of luxury? The lash Of their stern monarch urg'd their shiv'ring limbs Through all the tempests, which enrag'd the main, And shook beneath their trembling steps the pile, That join'd the Asian and the western worlds. To these Maeonia hot with sulph'rous mines Unites her troops. No tree adorns their fields Unbless'd with verdure, and with ashes strewn. Black are the rocks, and ev'ry hill deform'd With conflagration. Helmets press'd their brows. Two darts they brandish'd. Round their woolly vest A sword was girt, and hairy hides compos'd Their bucklers round and light. The Mysians left Olympus wood-envelop'd, and the soil Wash'd by Caïcus, and the baneful tide Of Lycus, nurse of serpents. Targets, helms, And wooden javelins harden'd in the flames They bore. By these, imbattled next are seen 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 it pours Its freezing current, for the distant shores Of fishy Sangar. These Bithynians nam'd Their habitations to the sacred feet Of Dindymus extend. Yet there they groan'd Beneath oppression, and their freedom mourn'd On Sangar now, as once on Strymon lost. The ruddy skins of foxes form'd their cask; Their shields were fashion'd like the horned moon; A dart, and slender poynard arm'd their hands; 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, stood with shining helms. The horns of bulls in imitating brass Adorn'd the lofty crest. Phoenician cloth Their legs infolds, with brightest purple stain'd; And through the forest wont to chase the boar, A hunter's spear they grasp. What nations still On either side of Xerxes, while he pass'd, Present their huge array, and swell his soul With more than mortal pride? The num'rous train Of Moschians and Macronians now succeed, And Mosynoecians, who, with berries fed, In wooden tow'rs along the Pontic shore Repose their painted limbs; the mirthful race Of Tibarenians next, whose wanton minds Delight in sport, and laughter: all in casks Of wood, with shields, and lances small, whose points Beyond proportion lengthen. Then approach, In garments o'er their spacious bosom clasp'd, And part with javelins, part with Lycian bows, A people destin'd in eternal verse, Ev'n thine, sublime Maeonides, to live. These are the Milyans, Solymi their name In thy celestial strains, Pifidia's hills Their dwelling. Once a formidable train, They fac'd the great Bellerophon in war, Now doom'd a more tremendous foe to meet, Themselves unnerv'd with bondage, and to leave Their putrid bodies for the dogs of Greece. Next are the Marian legions furnish'd all With shields of skins, with darts, and helmets wove Of strongest texture. Aria's host protend The Bactrian lance, and brace the Persian bow, Drawn from a region horrid all with thorn, One hideous waste of sands, which mock the toil Of patient culture; save one favour'd spot, Which, like an isle, emerges from the wild, In verdure clad, and interspers'd with vines, Whose gen'rous clusters yield a juice, that scorns The injuries of Time. Yet Nature's hand Had sown their rocks with coral, and enrich'd Their desert hills with veins of sapphirs blue, And those, whose azure sparks of gold adorn. These from the turbant flame. On ev'ry neck The coral blushes through the num'rous throng. The Allarodians, and Sasperian bands Were arm'd with poniards, like the Cholchian host; Their heads were guarded with a helm of wood. Short were their spears, of hides undress'd their shields. The Cholchians march'd from Phasis, and the shores, Where once Medea fair enchantress stood, And wondring view'd the first advent'rous bark, That stem'd the Pontic foam. From Argo's side The demigods descended, and repair'd To her fell sire's inhospitable walls. His blooming graces Jason there display'd. With ev'ry art of eloquence divine He claim'd the golden fleece. The virgin heard, She gaz'd with fatal ravishment, and lov'd. Then to the hero she resigns her heart; Her magic tames the brazen-footed bulls; She lulls the sleepless dragon, and to Greece With faithless Jason wafts the radiant prize. The Cholchians then pursu'd their steps with war, And now with antient enmity inflam'd, Or else compell'd by Xerxes to recal The long-forgotten wrong, they menace Greece With desolation. Next in Persian guise A croud advanc'd, who left the various isles In Persia's gulph, and round Arabia known. Some in their native topaz were adorn'd, From Ophiodes, and Topazos sprung; And some with shells of tortoises, which brood Around Casitis' verge. To them were join'd Those, who reside, where Erythras intomb'd Lies all beset with palms, a pow'rful king, Who nam'd of old the Erythraean main. The Lybians next are plac'd. In chariots scyth'd They sat terrific, cloath'd in skins, with darts Of wood well-temper'd in the hardning 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, and the fragrant reed, And myrrh, and hallow'd frankincense perfume The zephir's wing. A bow of largest size Th' Arabians wield, and o'er their lucid vest Loose floats a mantle on their shoulder clasp'd. Of these two myriads on the lofty back Of camels rode, that match'd the swiftest horse.

SUCH were the numbers, which from Asia led Bow'd down with low prostration to the wheels Of Xerxes' chariot. Yet what legions more Expand their mighty range? What banners still The Malian sands o'ershadow? Forward rolls The regal car through nations, which in arms, And order'd ranks unlike the eastern throng Upheld the spear and buckler. Yet 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, And stain'd their arms with sorrow. Europe's race Were these, whom Xerxes by resistless force Had gather'd to his standards. Murm'ring here The sons of Thrace, and Macedonia stood, Here on his steed the brave Thessalian frown'd. There pin'd reluctant multitudes, who bore The name of Greeks, and peopled all the coast Between Byzantium, and the Malian bay.

THROUGH all the numbers, which ador'd his pride, Or fear'd his pow'r, the monarch now was pass'd; Nor yet among those myriads could be found One, who with Xerxes' self in tow'ring size, Or beauteous features might compare. O wretch! Possess'd of all, but virtue; doom'd to shew, How mean 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, which heav'n From none withholds; which oft to thousands proves Their only refuge from a tyrant's rage; And which by pining sickness, age, or pain Becomes at last a soothing hope to all; Thou, who couldst weep, that Nature's gentle hand Should lay her wearied offspring in the tomb, Yet couldst remorseless from their peaceful seats Lead half the nations in a clime unknown To fall the victims of thy ruthless pride; What didst thou merit from the injur'd world? What suff'rings to compensate for the tears Of Asia's mothers, for unpeopled realms, And all this waste of nature? On his host The king exulting bends his haughty sight, When thus to Demaratus he began.

NOW Demaratus to thy soul recal My father great Darius, who receiv'd Thy wandring steps expell'd their native home. Ill would it then become thee to beguile Thy benefactors, and the truth disguise, Look back on all those thousands, and declare, If yonder Grecians will oppose their march.

THE exile answer'd. Deem not mighty lord, I will deceive thy goodness by a tale Forg'd for their glory, whose deluded minds Perversely hearken'd to the sland'rer's tongue; Who forc'd me with unmerited disgrace To tread the paths of banishment and woe. Nor be the king offended, while I speak The words of truth. The Spartans never fly.

HERE with contemptuous smiles the king return'd. Wilt thou, who once wert Lacedaemon's chief, Encounter twenty Persians? Yet those Greeks With greater disproportion must confront Our host to-morrow. Demaratus thus.

BY single combat were the tryal vain, And vainer still by my unworthy sword, To prove the merit of united force, Which oft by military skill surmounts The strength of numbers. Nor in fields of war The Greeks excel by discipline alone, But from their manners. Grant thy ear, O king, The diff'rence learn of Grecian bands, and thine. The flow'r, the bulwark of thy pow'rful host Are mercenaries. These are canton'd round Thy provinces. No fertile field demands Their painful hand to turn the fallow glebe. Them to the noon-day toil no harvest calls. The stubborn oak along the mountains brow Sinks not beneath their stroke. With careful eyes They mark not how the flocks, or heifers feed. To them of wealth, and 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 with scorn Rejecting labour, wretched by their wants, Yet profligate through indolence, with limbs Soft and enervate, and with minds corrupt; From misery, debauchery, and sloth Are these to battle drawn against a foe Inur'd to hardship, and the child of toil, Wont through the freezing show'r, and wintry storm O'er his own glebe the tardy ox to goad; Or in the sun's impetuous heat to glow Beneath the burthen of the yellow sheaves: Whence on himself, on her, whose faithful arms Infold him joyful, and a num'rous race, Which glads his dwelling, plenty he bestows With independence; and when call'd to war For these 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 pow'rs of ev'ry state in Greece One only breeds a race more warlike still, Ev'n those, who now defend that rocky pass, The sons of Lacedaemon. They untaught To break the glebe, or bind the golden sheaves, To far severer labours are inur'd. Alone for war, their sole delight, and care. From infancy to manhood, are they form'd To want, and danger, to th' unwholesome ground, To winter watches, and inclement skies, To plunge through torrents, brave the tusky boar, To arms, and wounds; an exercise of pain So fierce and constant, that to them a camp With all its hardships is the seat of rest, And war itself remission from their toils.

THY words are folly, scornful here replied The Persian monarch. Does not freedom dwell Among the Grecians? Therefore will they shun Superiour foes, for whosoe'er is free Will fly from danger; while the Persians know, If from th' allotted station they retreat, The scourge awaits them, and my heavy wrath.

CONCEIVE not, Xerxes, Sparta's chief return'd, The Grecians want an object, where to fix Their eyes with rev'rence, and obedient dread. To them more aweful than the name of king To Asia's trembling millions is the law, Whose sacred voice injoins them to confront Unnumber'd foes, to vanquish, or to die.

IN silence now the banish'd king remain'd. While near the straits the chariot roll'd; it chanc'd, The Spartans then were station'd out on guard. These in gymnastic exercise employ'd, Nor heed the monarch, nor his gaudy train; But toss'd the spear, and whirl'd the rapid dart, Or met with adverse shields in single war, Or trooping swiftly rush'd on ev'ry side With ranks unbroken, and with equal feet: While others calm beneath their polish'd helms Drew down their hair, which hung in sable curls, And spread their necks with terrour. Xerxes here The exile questions. What do these intend, Who thus with careful hands adjust their hair?

TO whom the Spartan. O imperial lord, Such is their custom, to adorn their heads, When with determin'd valour they present Their dauntless breasts before the jaws of death. Bring down thy myriads all in glitt'ring 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 Behind the Caspian range the Scythian wild, With those, who drink the secret fount of Nile, Yet to the breasts of Sparta's sons shall fear Be still a stranger. Thus with fervour spake The exil'd king, when gushing from his eyes Resistless grief o'erflow'd his cheek. Aside His head he turn'd, and wept in copious streams. The sad remembrance of his former state, His dignity, his greatness, and the sight Of those brave ranks, which thus unshaken stood, And spread amazement through the world in arms, Excite those sorrows. Oft with eager eyes He views the godlike warriours, who beneath His standard once victorious fought, who call'd Him once their king and leader. Then again His head he bows with anguish, and bedews His breast with tears; in agony bemoans His faded honours, his illustrious name Forgotten now, his majesty defil'd With exile and dependence. So obscur'd By creeping ivy, and by sordid moss Some lordly palace, or stupendous fane, Magnificent in ruin stands; where time Wide-wasting from the nodding roof hath mow'd The column down, and cleft the pond'rous dome.

NOT unobserv'd by Hyperanthes mourn'd Th' unhappy Spartan. Kindly to his own Th' exile's hand he joins, and thus humane. O Demaratus, this thy grief confirms, How well the Greeks deserve thy gen'rous praise, Who still repining dost their loss deplore, Though cherish'd here with universal love. But O let indignation in thy breast Revive thy wrongs! then bless th' auspicious fate, Which led thee far from calumny and fraud To share the favour of the highest king.

AS Demaratus with a grateful mind Address'd himself to answer, Persia's king Thus interrupted. Soon, as morning shines, Do thou Tigranes and Phraortes head The Medes and Saces. Bring those Grecians bound. This said. The monarch to his tent return'd.