Leonidas. Book IV

LACONIA's leader with the morning rose, When thus to Alpheus. From Arcadia's bands Select a thousand spears. To these unite The Thespians and Plataeans. Range their lines Before the wall, which fortifies the pass: There close-imbodied will their might repulse The num'rous foe. Obedient to his will Th' appointed legions issuing from their tents With deep'ning ranks Leonidas inclose. So round their monarch in his stormy cave The winds assemble, from his sable throne When Aeolus sends forth his dread command To swell the main, or heav'n with clouds deform, Or bend the forest from the mountain's brow. The chief of Sparta from the rampart's height Thus to the fight the list'ning host inflames.

THIS day, O Grecians, countrymen, and friends, Your wives, your offspring, your paternal seats, Your fathers, country, liberty, and laws Have sent you hither, from your infant age Vers'd in the various discipline of Mars, Laborious, active, virtuous, brave, and free, To match your valour with ignoble foes In war unskilful, nature's basest dross, The foes of all utility and worth, And thence a monarch's mercenary slaves; With spirits broke by servitude and want, With limbs relax'd by sloth, and wanton ease, With minds debauch'd by vices, uninspir'd By all th'indearing cares in free-born hearts, Who cold and drooping fight without a cause, To whom defeat is neither grief, nor shame, Who seek no fruit from victory, but spoil. These are the flow'r of Asia's host. The rest, Who fill their boasted numbers, are a croud Forc'd from their dwellings to the bloody field, From whom till now with jealous care their lord Has still withheld the instruments of war. These are the people taught with patient grief To bear the rapine, cruelty, and spurns Of Xerxes' mercenary bands, and pine In servitude to slaves. With terrour sounds The trumpet's clangor in their trembling ears. Unwonted loads, the buckler and the lance Their hands sustain incumber'd, and present The mockery of war.—But ev'ry eye Flames with impatient ardour, and your breasts Too long their swelling spirit have confin'd. Go then, ye sons of Liberty, and sweep These bondmen from the field. Resistless rend The glitt'ring standard from their servile hands. Hurl to the ground their ignominious heads The warriour's helm profaning. Think the shades Of your forefathers rear their sacred brows Here to enjoy the glory of their sons.

HE spake. Loud Paeans burst from all the host. With fierce reply unnumber'd shouts ascend From hostile nations thronging down the pass. Such is the roar of Aetna, when her mouth Displodes combustion from her sulph'rous depths, And blasts the smiles of Nature. Dauntless stood In deep array before the Phocian wall The Greeks close-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, And scatter'd splendour on the dancing plumes. Down rush'd the foe. Exulting in the van Their haughty leader shakes his threatning lance, And frowns defiance. Bursting from his rank Diomedon with instant fury fac'd Th' impending foes. Meantime he loudly calls Their chief Tigranes, whom he thus defies.

NOW thou art met, Barbarian. Wouldst thou 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 ardent haste, While my strong lance yon Grecian's pride confounds.

HE ceas'd. In dreadful opposition now Each combatant advanc'd. With sinewy hand They gripe their spears high-brandish'd. Thrice they drove With well-directed force the pointed steel At either's throat, and thrice their shields repel The destin'd wound. At length the Eastern chief With all his pow'rs collected for the stroke His javelin rivets in the Grecian targe. Aside Diomedon inclines, and shuns Approaching fate. Then all his martial skill Undaunted summons. His forsaken lance Beside him cast, his falchion he unsheaths. The blade descending on Tigranes' arm, That instant struggling to redeem his spear, The shiv'ring hand dissevers. Pale affright Unmans the Persian, while his active foe Full on his neck discharg'd the rapid sword, And open'd wide the purple gates of life. Low sinks Tigranes in eternal shade. The conqueror bestrides the prostrate dead, Then in the clotted ringlets of the hair His hand intwining from the bleeding trunk The head disjoin'd, and whirl'd with sudden rage Amid the hostile numbers. All with dread Recoil, where'er the ghastly visage flew In sanguine circles, and pursu'd its track Of horrour through the air. Not less amaz'd A barb'rous nation, whom the chearful dawn Of science ne'er illumin'd, view on high A meteor waving with portentous blaze; Where oft, as superstition vainly dreams, Some daemon sits amid the baneful fires, Dispersing plagues and desolation round. A while the stern Diomedon remains Triumphant o'er the dire dismay, which froze The hearts of Persia, then with haughty port, And sullen joy among his gladsome friends Resumes his station. Still the Asian bands With consternation motionless behold Their foes with terrour, and suspend the fight; When thus Phraortes animates their breasts.

HEAV'NS! can one leader's death appal this host, Which counts a train of monarchs for its chiefs! Behold Phraortes! from Imaüs' ridge I draw my subject files. With hardy toil I through the pathless forest have explor'd The tiger's cavern. This unconquer'd arm Hath from the lion rent the shaggy spoil. So through this field of slaughter will I chase Yon vaunting Greek with ruin on his head For great Tigranes slain. His words revive The flame of valour through the drooping van, Then on the rear he brandishes his lance. Before him shrink th' affrighted croud, and roll Their numbers headlong on the Grecian steel With loose arrangement, and uncertain feet. Thus with his trident Ocean's angry God From its vast bottom turns the hideous mass Of waters upward, and o'erwhelms the beach. Terrific stood the fierce Plataean chief Amid the Grecian van. His ample targe, Like a strong bulwark, prominent he rais'd Before the line. There thunder'd all the storm Of darts and arrows. His undaunted train With emulating ardour charge the foe. Where'er they turn the formidable spears, Which drench'd the glebe of Marathon with gore, The Persians heap the plain. Diomedon Leads on the slaughter. From his nodding crest The sable plumes shook terrour. Asia's bands All shudder backward at the dreadful beams Of that unconquerable sword, which falls With lightning's swiftness o'er their trembling heads, And reeking still with slain Tigranes' blood Their shatter'd ranks o'erturns. The furious chief Incompass'd round with 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 recal! Behold these slaves without resistance bleed. Advance, my ancient friend. Propitious Fame Smiles on thy years, and gives thy aged hand To pluck fresh laurels for thy honour'd brow.

AS, when indu'd with Promethéan heat, The molten clay respir'd; with sudden warmth So glows the venerable Thespian's age, With new-born vigour ev'ry sinew swells. His falchion thund'ring on Cherasmes' helm The forehead clove. Ecbatana to war Sent forth Cherasmes. From her potent gates He proud in hope her swarming numbers led, With Ariazus and Pencestes join'd, His martial brothers. They attend his doom By Dithyrambus foil'd. Their hoary sire Shall o'er his solitary palace roam, Lamenting loud his childless years, and curse Ambition's fury, and the lust of war, Then pining bow with anguish to the grave. Next by the fierce Plataean's matchless sword Expires Damates, once the host and friend Of fall'n Tigranes; him that day he join'd, And left his native bands. Of Syrian birth In Daphne he resided near the grove, Whose hospitable laurels in their shade Conceal'd the virgin fugitive, that scorn'd Th' embrace of Phoebus; hither she repair'd Far from her parent stream, in fables feign'd Herself a laurel to have rear'd her head With verdant bloom in this retreat, the grove Of Daphne call'd, the seat of rural bliss, Fan'd by the wing of zephirs, and with rills Of bubbling founts irriguous, Syria's boast, And happy rival of Thessalia's vale; Now hid for ever from Damates' eyes. Nor with unactive spears th' Arcadians stood. Gigantic Clonius unresisted press'd The yielding Persians, who before him sunk, Crush'd like vile stubble underneath the steps Of some glad hind, who visits o'er the plain His new-shorn harvest. With a fearless eye Phraortes saw the gen'ral rout. He sprung O'er hills of carnage to confront the Greeks, Reproaching thus his own inglorious friends.

FLY then ye cowards, and desert your chief; Yet single here my falchion shall oppose The might of thousands. Raging thus, he drove The deathful steel through Aristander's breast. Him Dithyrambus lov'd, a sacred bard Rever'd for justice, for his verse renown'd, Which sung the deeds of heroes, those, who fell, Or those, who conquer'd in their country's cause, Th' inraptur'd soul inspiring with the thirst Of glory won by virtue. His high strain The Muses favour'd from their neighb'ring groves, 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 streams divine of Aganippe's fount His tuneful lip shall moisten, nor his hands Present their off'rings in the Muses bow'r, The prostrate shield and unforsaken lance Now feebly grasping, never more to swell His lofty numbers on the sounding string. Lo! Dithyrambus weeps. Amid the rage Of war and conquest a swift-gushing tear Finds one sad moment's interval to fall On his pale friend. But soon the victor proves His fierce revenge. Through shield and corselet plung'd, His furious javelin tore the Persian's chest. Phraortes sinks, nor yet expiring, sees With indignation Persia's myriads fly. Swift through their broken legions, side by side, Urg'd by the voice of Victory and Fame, Diomedon and Dithyrambus rang'd. So, where Alphéus heard the rattling car, And sounding hoofs along his echoing banks, Two gen'rous coursers link'd in mutual reins With equal speed and ardour beat the dust To reach the glories of th' Olympic goal.

THIS from his lofty chariot Xerxes saw. He saw his numbers pouring from the straits In crouded flight, then spreading o'er the field, All broke and scatter'd; as a river bursts Impetuous from its fountain, then expands Its limpid surface o'er the pastures broad. Thrice started from his seat th' astonish'd king, Shame, fear, and indignation rend his breast; As ruin irresistible were near To overwhelm his millions. Haste (he calls To Hyperanthes) haste and meet the Greeks; Their daring rage and insolence repel, And from dishonour vindicate our name.

THE godlike Hyperanthes through the tents Obedient moves. Deliberate and brave Each active prince he summons, and with care Collects the hardiest troops. Around him soon Innumerable javelins flame. His voice Demands attention, when he thus began.

NOW friends divide, and form two equal bands. One with the great Abrocomes, with me, With Intaphernes, and Hydarnes bold, With Mindus and Pandates shall advance, And snatch this short-liv'd victory from Greece. You Abradates with Pharnuchus join'd, Orontes, and Mazaeus, keep the rest Imbattel'd ready to impart their aid, Shou'd envious Fate exhaust our num'rous ranks; For, O great Mithra, may thy radiant eye Ne'er see us, yielding to ignoble flight, The Persian fame dishonour, and the praise Of our renown'd progenitors, who led By Cyrus gave a monarch to the world. Think, O ye princes, flow'r of Asia's realms, What endless infamy will blast your names, Should Greece, that narrow portion of the globe, Your arms defy; when Babylon hath low'r'd Its tow'ring head, when Lydia's pride is quell'd, And from Ecbatana its empire torn. Think too, ye warlike bands, our army's boast, What deeds are ask'd from your superiour swords; You, who our monarch's largest bounty share, You, to whose faith and valour he commits Himself, his queens, his realms, and now his fame.

WHILE Hyperanthes marshall'd thus his host, Far as th' extremest limit of the pass, Diomedon and Dithyrambus hung Upon the rear of Persia. Now they turn Victorious, striding o'er th' impurpled heaps Of arms, and mangled dead, themselves with gore Distain'd; like two grim tigers, who have forc'd A nightly mansion on the desart rais'd By some lone-wandring traveller, and dy'd With human slaughter through the forest deep Back to their covert's dreary gloom retire. So pass'd these heroes o'er the crimson rock, Approaching now, where gasping on his shield Phraortes lay recumbent. Thespia's youth Advancing, thus his gen'rous soul express'd.

LIV'ST thou, brave Persian? By propitious Jove, From whom the pleasing sense of mercy flows Through mortal bosoms, less my soul rejoic'd, When Fortune gave the victory before Than now to raise thee from this field of death.

THE dying prince his languid sight unclos'd, And thus with trembling lips. Vain man, forbear To proffer me, what soon thyself must crave. The day is now extinguish'd in these orbs, Nor shall my heart beat longer than to scorn Thy mercy, Grecian; then resign to fate.

HE ceas'd. The great, and haughty spirit fled. Demophilus drew nigh. The hoary chief Long o'er Phraortes' corse his head inclin'd, Poiz'd on his lance, and thus address'd the slain.

ALAS! how glorious were that bleeding breast, Had Justice giv'n the buckler to thy arm, And to preserve a people bade thee die! Who now shall mourn thee! Thy ungrateful king Will soon forget thy worth. For thee no tears Among thy native countrymen shall tell The public sorrow; what to them avail'd Thy might and dauntless spirit? Not to guard Their wives and offspring from the spoil of war, Not from their walls repel the hostile blaze, Nor desolation from their fruitful fields, But to extend oppression didst thou fall; Perhaps with inborn virtues in thy heart, Which, but thy angry destiny forbade, By freedom cherish'd might have bless'd mankind. All-bounteous Nature! thy impartial laws To no selected race of men confine The sense of glory, fortitude, and all The nobler passions, which inspire the mind, And render life illustrious. These thou plant'st In ev'ry soil. But freedom, like the sun, Must warm the gen'rous seeds. By her alone They bloom and flourish; while oppression blasts The tender virtues: hence a spurious growth, False honour, savage valour taint the soul, And wild ambition: hence rapacious pow'r The ravag'd earth unpeoples, and the brave, A feast for dogs, bestrew th' insanguin'd plain,

HE said. Around the venerable man The Grecians throng'd attentive. Conquest hush'd Its joyful transports. O'er the horrid field, Late the rude scene of tumult, all was calm. So, when the song of Thracian Orpheus drew To Hebrus' margin from their dreary seats The savage race, which Haemus wrapt in clouds, Pangaeus cold, and Rhodopeian snows In blood and discord nurs'd; the soothing strain Flow'd with enchantment through their ravish'd ears: Their fierceness melted, and amaz'd they learn'd The sacred laws of justice, which the bard Mix'd with the musick of his heav'nly string.

NOT from the field of slaughter far remote In Oeta's rugged side had Nature clove A rocky cavern. This with moss she spread, And o'er the entrance downward from the roots She hung the shaggy trunks of branching firrs To heav'n's hot ray impervious. From the sides The vivid laurel spread before the sun Its broad and glitt'ring foliage; and, above, The hill was darken'd with a solemn shade Cast from the sable cypress. This retreat Cool, as the grot of Thetis, hid beneath The vaulted ocean, with the murm'ring sound Of waters trickling from the riven stone The Grecian leaders to its gloom invites. Their helms they loosen, from their glowing cheeks. Against the rock their bucklers they repose. Propt on their spears they stood, when Agis thus, Sent by Leonidas, accosts the chiefs.

O EVER-WORTHY of undying names! Leonidas recals you from your toil, Which has already fill'd our mouths with praise, Our eyes with wonder, that from yonder tow'r On your unequall'd deeds incessant gaz'd.

TO whom the bold Diomedon return'd. Go Agis, say to Lacedaemon's king, As yet untir'd my hand can poize the spear, Nor hangs the buckler heavy on my arm. And shall I then retire? And once again Shall not the sun, before he sink, behold The slaves of Xerxes tremble at my lance.

TO him the Thespian youth. My friend and guide To noble actions, since thy gen'rous mind Intent on fame disdains to rest, O grant, I too thy glorious labours may partake, And learn once more to imitate thy deeds. Thou, gentlest Agis, Sparta's chief intreat Not to command us from the field of war.

THEN interpos'd Demophilus. O friend, And thou, lov'd offspring of the dearest man, Who dost restore my brother to my eyes, My soul your magnanimity applauds. But, O reflect, that unabating toil Subdues the mightiest. Valour then will sigh, When the weak hand obeys the heart no more. Yet I declining with the weight of years Will not assign a measure to your strength; If still you find your vigour undecay'd, Stay and augment your glory. So, when time Your heads shall whiten, and your feeble arms Round the high temple's peaceful vault have hung Their consecrated shields, your native land Shall then with honours doubled on your age Requite the gen'rous labours of your prime. So spake the Senior, and forsook the cave.

NOW from the bubbling spring Diomedon Receives the waters in his concave helm; And thus address'd the genius of the flood.

WHOE'ER thou art, whose deity presides O'er this fair fountain, bounteous are thy streams; Though ill shall I repay thee: for again Will I this day pollute thy silver wave, Which mix'd with gore shall tinge the Malian surge.

SO saying from his brimming cask he quaff'd The clear, refreshing moisture. Thus repairs The spotted panther to Hydaspes' side, Or eastern Indus, feasted with the blood Of some torn deer, which nigh his cruel grasp Had roam'd unheeding through the secret grove: Rapacious o'er the humid brink he stoops, And in the pure and fluid crystal cools His reeking jaws. The Thespian warriour here.

SEE, valiant friend, Leonidas hath fill'd The pass with fresh battalions. O survey Yon line of plumed helms, and glitt'ring shields, Which emulate the mid-day sun. What joy! What ardent hope enlightens ev'ry face! O let us wait no longer, lest they cry, Our wearied limbs retard us. Let us arm, And take our station in the glorious van.

THUS Dithyrambus. The Plataean chief Approves the counsel, and resumes his arms. Them as a splendid recompense he bore From grateful Athens, when his conqu'ring sword Her domes with great Miltiades redeem'd From Asiatic flames. Th' insculptur'd helm Now press'd his manly temples. From on high A fourfold plumage nodded, and, beneath, A golden dragon with effulgent scales The gorgeous crest illumin'd. On his arm His shield he brac'd. Gorgonian serpents twin'd Around the spacious verge. Within, the form Of Pallas, martial goddess, was impress'd. Low, as her feet, the graceful tunic flow'd. Betwixt two gryffins on her helmet sat A sphinx with wings expanded, while the face Of dire Medusa on her bosom frown'd. One hand supports her javelin, which confounds The pride of kings; the other leads along A blooming virgin, Victory, whose brows A crown incircles; laurels she presents; But from her shoulders all her plumes were shorn, With favour'd Athens ever now to rest. This, Asia's terrour, on his mighty arm Diomedon uprear'd, then snatch'd his lance, And thus to Dithyrambus. Lo! my friend, Alone of all the Grecians, who sustain'd The morning's battle, still unwearied stand Plataea's sons, and well may keep the field, They, who endur'd the Marathonian toil. Then charge with us. Amid the foremost rank Thy valour shall be plac'd, and share, this day, Command and honour with Plataea's chief.

THE hero ceas'd, and tow'rd the Grecian van Strides with impetuous steps. Nor slow behind The boast of Thespia, Dithyrambus mov'd; Like blooming Hermes in celestial arms, When lightly graceful with his feather'd feet Along Scamander's flow'ry verge he pass'd, To aid th' incens'd divinities of Greece Against the Phrygian tow'rs. With eager speed The heroes soon th' imbattled Greeks attain'd, To whom the brave Diomedon began.

NOT to contend, but vanquish are you come, And in the blood of fugitives to stain Your lances unoppos'd. My friends, behold, Where furthest from the Malian gulf remov'd The crags of Oeta less confine the straits. There let us bend extending wide our front. There with more ample scope may havoc range.

ALL with assent gave ear. The various bands Move on successive. The Plataeans first Against the rock are station'd. To their head Is Dithyrambus brought. Exulting joy Distends their hearts, and flashes in their eyes. Thanks to the great Diomedon, they cry, Who to our troop this godlike hero joins. Hail! Dithyrambus. Hail! illustrious chief. Well dost thou merit to have reap'd renown At Marathon. Amid the glorious front With conscious gladness blushing on his cheek The youth his post assumes. Around him croud The hoary warriours their unnumber'd scars Before his sight presenting, and recount Their various dangers. He their wounds surveys With veneration, nor disdains to hear The oft-repeated tale. From Sparta's king Returning, Agis here the chiefs address'd, Leonidas permits you still to brave The hostile numbers, with Plataea's band, If yet by toil unconquer'd. But I see, That all unwearied ask the promis'd fight. Hail! glorious veterans. This signal day May your victorious swords augment the wreaths Around your venerable brows, and make Thermopylae, like Marathon, renown'd.

THIS said, he hastens back. Meantime advanc'd The Mantinéan Diophantus brave, And Hegesander, Tegea's dauntless chief, With all their troops imbattled; by their side The Thebans form; to them their native files Alcmaeon and Eupalamus unite; Last on the margin of the Malian bay Mycenae's youth Aristobulus drew; In one impenetrable phalanx stretch'd Across the pass. With close-connected force An hundred warriours form'd th' expanded ranks, And thirty bucklers ev'ry file condens'd. In strong reserve Dieneces behind Dispos'd the Spartans, and the Locrian line. There too with Maron Alpheus dauntless stood, And godlike Agis. There Megistias plac'd His blooming heir, and thus his valour fires.

O MENALIPPUS! born of foreign race, Yet by these heroes not unworthy deem'd With them to fight for Sparta! lo! the hour Is come, my son, to shew thy gen'rous heart; That not with thee the buckler and the spear Are ill intrusted to maintain a cause So great and sacred. O remember well, Leonidas on yonder bulwark stands, Who all the war contemplates, and discerns The bold and fearful. O propitious heav'n! Grant me to hear Leonidas this day Applaud my son, and let Megistias die!

WHILE thus he spake, the animated soul Of Menalippus struggling in his breast Demands the fight. This saw the tender sire, And thus with tears rejoin'd. Remember too! Thy father sees thy danger. Oh! my child! To me thy honour as to thee is dear; Yet court not death! By all thy filial love, By all my cares and fondness I implore! Amid the combat, or the warm pursuit, Still by the wise Dieneces abide: His prudent valour knows th' unerring paths Of glory; he will guide thy youthful steps. This said, to Sparta's leader he retires.

NOW are the enemies descried. The van Abrocomes and Hyperanthes led, With them Pandates, Intaphernes proud, Hydarnes, Mindus. Violent their march With sounding footsteps swept the stony way. So, where th' unequal globe in mountains swells, A river pours its thund'ring surge between The steep-erected cliffs; tumultuous roll The torrents bursting o'er the pointed crags: The mountains roar, the marble channel foams. With obvious arms th' intrepid Greeks withstand The dire encounter. Soon th' impetuous shock Of thousands and of myriads shakes the ground. Stupendous scene of terrour! Under hills, Whose nodding summits vaulted o'er their heads, In unextinguishable fury join'd The dreadful conflict. With inverted trunks Obliquely bending from the shagged ridge The sylvan horrours overshade the fight. The shrill-mouth'd trumpet, and the deep-tun'd horn, Mix'd with the crash of intermingling spears, The clanging shields, and war's discordant shouts Awake the echoes through the neighb'ring groves; And rocks and shores return the hideous sound.