The Athenaid

While thus Mafistius for the field prepar'd, At sacrifice amidst the diff'rent chiefs Pausanias stood, the entrails to consult For heav'n's direction. Like a god rever'd Among the Spartans, was an augur fam'd, Tisamenus. The Pythian had declar'd Him first of prophets; he the rites performs; The victim open'd he inspects, and thus In solemn tone: Hear, Grecians, and obey The will of Jove. To pass th' Asopian flood Forbear. With Persian fetters in her hand Ill fortune seated on that bank I see, On this the laurel'd figure of success.

The augur ceas'd; when suddenly in view Th' Asopian current, overswelling, foams With eastern squadrons, wading through the fords. Bounds in the van Masistius on a steed, Whose glist'ning hue the brightest of the four Which drew th' irradiate axle of the morn Might scarce outshine. Erect the hero sat, Firm as the son of Danaë by Jove, When his strong pinion'd Pegasus he wheel'd Through Aethiopian air from death to guard Andromeda his love. In rapid haste A herald greets Pausanias: From the men Of Megara I come. A post advanc'd, The most obnoxious in the Grecian line To harassing assaults, their daily toil With unabating firmness long has held. Unwonted numbers of Barbarian horse Now sweep the field; a reinforcement send, Her standard else will Megara withdraw.

Pausanias then, alike to try the Greeks, And save his Spartans, answer'd: Chiefs, you hear; Who will be foremost to sustain our friends?

Through fear the dang'rous service is declin'd By many. Indignation to behold No Spartans offer'd, but the arduous task Impos'd on others, held Cleander mute; When Aristides: Herald, swift return, Athenian aid might else prevent thy speed.

The patriot spake, and left the Greeks amaz'd, Well knowing Athens with abhorrence look'd On Megara, her envious, ranc'rous foe Of ancient date, whom now she flies to aid.

Meantime that feeblest station of the camp Th' impetuous Asian cavalry surround. As clouds, impregnated with hail, discharge Their stormy burden on a champaign rich In ripen'd grain, and lay the crackling rows Of Ceres prostrate; under sheets of darts, With arrows barb'd and javelins, thus whole ranks Of Megara, by wounds or death o'erthrown, Gasp on the ground. Alcathöus expires, The blood of Nisus, Megatensian prince In times remote, and fabled to have held His fate dependent on a purple hair Amidst his hoary locks. That vital thread His impious daughter sever'd, blind with love For Minos, Cretan king, her father's foe. Masistius pierc'd him; javelins from his arm Incessant flew; on heaps of nameless dead He laid Evenus, Lysicles, the youth Of Cyparissus, and Cratander's age, Distinguish'd each by office, wealth, or birth, Or martial actions. Beasts of chace and prey, The wolf and boar, the lion and the stag, Within close toils imprison'd, thus become The hunter's mark. The signal of retreat Is now uplifted by the hopeless chiefs; When, as a friendly gale with stiff'ning wings Repels a vessel, driving by the force Of boist'rous currents in a fatal track To bulge on rocks, a voluntary band Of men at arms, and bowmen, Attic all, Restrain the flight of Megara. Expert Their shafts they level at the Persian steeds, Not at the riders. Soon around the plain Th' ungovern'd animals disperse, enrag'd By galling wounds. Olympiodorus, chief Among the light auxiliars, on the lists Of Pisa just Hellanodics had crown'd, The first of Greeks in archery. He stands Like Telamonian Teucer on the mound Of Atreus' son, where fate's unerring hand Had strung the bow which heap'd with Phrygian dead Th' empurpled fosse, while Ajax swung abroad The sev'n-fold shield to guard a brother's skill. Still in the field Masistius, who observ'd The active archer, from his lofty seat Against him whirls a javelin. Cimon near Receives the blunted weapon on the boss Of his huge buckler. His vindictive bow Olympiodorus bends; the rapid shaft Full in the forehead of the gen'rous steed He lodges deep. The high Nisaean blood Boils in its channels through tormenting pain; Erect the courser paws in air, and hurls In writhing agitation from his back Th' illustrious rider on the plain supine. Against him rush th' Athenians; on his feet They find him brandishing his sabre keen, With his firm shield a bulwark to his breast, Like one of those earth-sprung in radiant arms, Whom the Cadmēan dragon's fruitful jaws Or Colchian serpent's teeth produc'd. Assail'd On ev'ry side, his fortitude augments With danger. Down to Pluto's realm he sends Iphicrates and Eurytus, who drank Callirrhoe's fountain; Amynander born On smooth Ilissus, and three gallant youths Of Marathon. His cuirass strong withstands Repeated blows; unwounded, but o'ercome By unremitted labour, on his knees, Like some proud structure half o'erthrown by time, He sinks at last. Brave Cimon hastes to save A foe so noble in his deeds, in port Beyond a mortal; when a vulgar sword That moment through the vizor of his helm Transfix'd the brain, so exquisitely form'd, The seat of purest sentiment and thought. His frame, in ruin beauteous still and great, The fatal stroke laid low. An earthquake thus Shook from his base that wonder of the world, The Colossean deity of Rhodes.

Of danger all unheeding, by his lord Statirus kneel'd, and o'er his bosom spread His palms in anguish. Timely to protect The gentle youth ingenuous Cimon came, While thus the gasping satrap breath'd his last:

Farewell, thou faithful—Bid Mardonius think How brief are life's enjoyments—Virtue lives Through all eternity—By virtue earn'd, Praise too is long—Melissa—grant me thine.

In death, resembling sweetest sleep, his eyes Serenely drop their curtains, and the soul Flies to th' eternal mansions of the just. Within the trenches Cimon straight commands To lodge the corse; when lo! another cloud Of Eastern squadrons, Mindarus their chief, Who, o'er the stream detach'd with numbers new, Not finding great Masistius, rous'd afresh The storm of onset. Dreadful was the shock Of these, attempting to redeem, of those, Who held the body; but the Attic spears Break in the chests of fiery steeds, which press With violence unyielding, and the ranks In front disarm. The archers have discharg'd Their quivers. Now had Mindarus acquir'd Undying glory, and the Greeks resign'd The long-contested prize, when threat'ning shouts, Of diff'rent Grecians, pouring from the camp, Alarm the eastern chief. Cleander here With all Troezenè, Arimnestus there, Diomedon's bold successor in arms, With his Plataeans, and the Thespian brave, Alcimedon, assail the Persian flanks. So two hoarse torrents opposite descend From hills, where recent thunder-storms have burst; In the mid-vale the dashing waters meet To overwhelm the peasant's hopes and toil. Myronides and Aeschylus in sight, Each with his formidable phalanx moves; Th' encampment whole is arming. From the fight His mangled cavalry the Persian calls. In eager quest of refuge in their lines Beyond Asopus, through surrounding foes The coursers vault like swimmers, who forsake A found'ring vessel, and with buoyant strength Bound through the surge for safety on the beach.

Triumphant in their camp the Greeks replace Their standards; thither Cimon's gen'rous care Transports Masistius. Eager to behold A prize so noble, curious throngs on throngs Press in disorder; each his station leaves; Confusion reigns. The gen'ral host to arms Pausanias sternly vigilant commands, And next provides a chariot to display, Throughout th' extensive lines, th' illustrious dead, In magnitude and beauty late the pride Of nature's study'd workmanship. His limbs The hand of Cimon tenderly compos'd, As would a brother to a brother's corse. Masistius fill'd the chariot; on his knees Statirus held, and water'd with his tears The face majestic, not by death deform'd, Pale, but with features mild, which still retain'd Attractive sweetness to endear the sight.

First on the right through Lacedaemon's range The spectacle is carried; silence there Prevails; the Spartan citizen no sign Of triumph shews, subordinate to law, Which disciplin'd his passions. Tow'rds the left, Through exultation loud of other Greeks, The awful car at length to Attic ranks Brings their own prize, by Aristides met; There silence too, in rev'rence of their chief, Is universal. He prepares to speak; But first the mighty reliques he surveys. He feels like Jove, contemplating the pure, The gen'rous, brave Sarpedon, as he lay In death's cold arms, when swift th' almighty sire Decreed that Morpheus, gentlest of the gods, Should waft to Lycia's realm the royal clay, From pious friends and subjects to obtain The rites of splendid sepulture. Complete Was now the solemn pause; to list'ning ears Thus Aristides vents his godlike soul:

Here close your triumph, Grecians, nor provoke The jealous pow'rs who mark for chosen wrath O'er-weening pride. Though auguring success From this great satrap's fall, revere his clay; Such rev'rence all of mortal mold will need, All soon, or late. If comeliness and strength, If gracious manners, and a mind humane, If worth and wisdom could avoid the grave, You had not seen this tow'r of Asia fall. Yet there is left attainable by man, What may survive the grave; it is the fame Of gen'rous actions; this do you attain. I in Psittalia's isle this Persian knew Brave Medon's prize; his captive hands we freed; To him our hospitable faith we pledg'd, Through whom Phoebean Timon was redeem'd, With Haliartus, on Euboea's fields To signalize their swords. On Oeta's hill In him the daughter of Oïleus found A spotless guardian. Let his corse and arms, Thy acquisition, Cimon, be resign'd To piety; a herald shall attend Thy steps; remove him to his native friends. Let Xerxes hear, let fierce Mardonius see, How much Barbarians differ from the Greeks.

Minerva's tribes, approving, hear the words Of clemency and pity. Cimon mounts The fun'ral car; attentive and compos'd Like Maia's son, commission'd from the skies By his eternal sire, the warrior hears The full instructions of his patron chief. Th' Asopian stream he fords to Asia's tents, Whence issue wailing multitudes, who rend The air with ejulation, while the wheels Before Mardonius stop their solemn roll. He rives his mantle, and defiles with dust His splendid head. Not more the destin'd king Of Judah mourn'd the virtuous heir of Saul, Mow'd down in battle by Philistian strength On Gilboa's heights; nor melted more in grief O'er Absalom's fair locks, too much endear'd To blind parental fondness. From the car Descending, Cimon spake: Lo! Persian chief, The just Athenian, Aristides, sends These reliques, which he honours, to partake Of sepulture, as eastern rites ordain.

Then art thou fall'n, too confident, exclaims Mardonius, too unmindful of my love, And anxious warnings! Mithra, veil thy face In clouds! In tears of blood, thou sky, dissolve! Earth groan, and gen'ral nature join in woe! The tallest cedar of the orient groves Lies prostrate—Destiny malign! I brave Thy further malice—Blasted to the root Is all my joy. Here sorrow clos'd his lips. As frozen dead by wintry gusts he stood, Devoid of motion; Mindarus was nigh, Whose interposing prudence thus was heard:

O chief of nations numberless! who stand Spectators round, and watch thy lightest look, Confine thy anguish; in their sight revere Thyself; regard this messenger benign From Aristides, and thy native sense Of obligation rouse. Mardonius then, As from a trance: I hear thee, and approve, My gentle kinsman. This returning car, With purest gold, and costly vesture pil'd, Shall bear the copious tribute of my thanks To Aristides; whom extoll'd to heav'n By excellent Masistius oft my soul Hath heard, the righteous by the righteous prais'd.

Now Cimon interpos'd: That man extoll'd Thou dost not, Persian, lib'ral as thou art, Mean to offend; thy presents then with-hold. In poverty more glorious, than in wealth The wealthiest, Aristides frowns at gold. No costly vestures decorate his frame, Itself divine; the very arms he wears, The sole possession of that spotless man, All ornament reject; he only boasts The sharpest sword, the weightiest spear and shield.

Ha! must I pass unthankful in the sight Of one, Masistius lov'd, the chief reply'd?

No, answer'd quick th' Athenian; from his cross Take down Leonidas. A stedfast look Mardonius fix'd on Cimon: That request, O Greek! is big with danger to my head, Which I will hazard, since the only price Set on the precious reliques thou restor'st.

This said, he orders to his tent the corse; There on the clay-cold bosom of his friend Thus plaintive hangs: Fall'n pillar of my hopes, What is Mardonius, wanting thy support! Thou arm of strength, for ever are unbrac'd Thy nerves! Enlighten'd mind, where prudence dwelt, Heart purify'd by honour, you have left Mardonius helpless; left him to himself, To his own passions, which thy counsel tam'd! The dang'rous paths of error I shall tread Without thy guidance! Shame, defeat and death, Frown in thy wounds ill-boding—yet thy look Not fate itself of gentleness deprives. By heaven a world shall mourn thee—Loud he calls; Which Mindarus obeys. To him the chief:

Thou too didst love Masistius—Fly, proclaim A gen'ral lamentation through the camp; Let all Boeotia sound Masistius lost. O verify'd too clearly, boding dream Of mine, by him so fatally despis'd! See ev'ry head dismantled of its hair, The soldiers, women, eunuchs; of his mane See ev'ry steed, the mule and camel shorn. O that the echo of our grief might pass The Hellespont to Asia! that her loss Through all her cities, through her vales, and streams, Beyond the banks of Ganges might be told!

As Mindarus departs, the Theban chief Approaches, Leontiades, who spake:

If there be one, O gen'ral, can replace Masistius wise, that prodigy is found, Elēan Hegesistratus, of seers The most renown'd. His penetrating mind Can from the victim slain, or mystic flight Of birds, foresee the dark events of time; Invet'rate foe to Sparta, sore with wrongs, He comes thy servant. Opportune he comes, Replies Mardonius. In the rites of Greece Ten hecatombs, before the sun descends, Shall to Masistius bleed an off'ring high. I will engage this augur at a price Beyond his wishes; let his skill decide, When to give battle, and avenge my friend. Collect your Grecian artists; instant build A cenotaph in your Dircaean grove, Where that pure fountain trills a mournful note. There shall Masistius in his name survive Among the Greeks; his last remains, embalm'd, Among his fathers shall in Susa rest.

The Theban goes. Statirus next appears; Th' afflicted hero greets the weeping youth:

Ah! poor Statirus! thou hast lost thy lord, I lost my friend, her bulwark Asia lost. The sacred clay to Artamanes bear, Left in Trachiniae chief. His pious love (Who did not love Masistius) will convey To distant Sestos his embalm'd remains, Thence o'er the narrow Hellespont, to reach His native Asia, and his father's tomb. How did he fall, Statirus? Did he send To me no counsel from his dying lips?

These, in a sigh the faithful page began, Were his last accents. "Let Mardonius think "How brief are life's enjoyments. Virtue lives "Through all eternity. By virtue earn'd "Praise too is long—Melissa, grant me thine".

Commend me to Melissa, starting, spake The son of Gobryas. From the shameful cross Bid Artamanes in her presence free Leonidas the Spartan. Now perform Another act of duty to thy lord; Despoil my head of all its curling pride; Slight sacrifice to grief—but ev'ry limb, Lopt from this body, and its mangled flesh Shall in the dust be scatter'd, ere I quit My chace of great revenge. Concluding here, He strides impetuous like a stately ram, Lord of the flock new-shorn. His giant guard Inclose him round; th' innumerable host Attend him, all divested of their hair, In howling anguish to an altar huge, By hasty hands constructed. Deep the earth Around is hollow'd, deep is drench'd with blood. Ten hundred sable victims heap the ground.

Now gen'ral silence reigns, as o'er the main In winter, when Halcyonè laments Her Ceyx lost, and Aeolus, her sire; By pity soften'd, all the air is calm, While she sits brooding on her watry nest. Amidst a cloud of frankincense the priest Of Elis, Hegesistratus, performs The rites of divination; awful thus At length unfolds the mysteries of time:

Hear, all ye nations; great Mardonius, hear; Th' Asopïan channel is the line of fate; The host, which passes, falls; success will crown Th' assail'd; th' assailant is to slaughter doom'd.

The multitude, discourag'd by the death Of their belov'd Masistius, hear in joy; Not so Mardonius at revenge delay'd. Inaction aggravates his pain; his tent Receives him. Solitary there, like night Within her cavern, thus he feeds his grief:

"Ambition curb; let virtue be thy pride." So spake Masistius, when we parted last To meet no more—I feel ambition cold, Benumb'd by sorrow—"Let Mardonius think, "How brief are life's enjoyments;" so thy fate, Dear friend, evinces—Life itself is short; Its joys are shorter; yet the scanty span Adversity can lengthen, till we loathe. If, on the brilliant throne of Xerxes plac'd, I held the orient and Hesperian worlds My vassals, could the millions in my host Compel the adamantine gate of death To render back my friend? O tortur'd heart! Which burn'st with friendship, of thy gen'rous flame Th' inestimable object is no more. What then is greatness? What th' imperial robe, The diadem and scepter? Could you fill The void, his endless absence hath produc'd In my sad bosom? Were ye mine how vain The acquisition, which my grief would loathe, And, wak'd by grief, let honour timely shun, Lest from his grave Masistius should arise To shake my pillow with his nightly curse. Not hecatombs on hecatombs of bulls Heap'd on his manes, not the votive hair, Nor fun'ral moan of nations could avail To moderate his ire; nor all the pow'r Of empires join'd to empires guard my sleep.

At length he sinks in slumber, not compos'd, But wanders restless through the wild of dreams.