The Athenaid

Sicinus, long by unpropitious winds Lock'd in Geraestus, to their fickle breath, Half-adverse still, impatient spread the sail. Six revolutions of the sun he spent To gain Phaleron. To his lord's abode He swiftly pass'd, when chance his wond'ring eyes On Aristides fix'd. An open space Reveal'd the hero, issuing sage commands. Th' omnipotent artificer of worlds From chaos seem'd with delegated pow'r To have entrusted that selected man. From ashes, lo! a city new ascends, One winter's indefatigable toil Of citizens, whose spirit unsubdu'd Subdues calamity. Each visage wears A cheerful hue, yet solemn. Through the streets Successive numbers from adjacent fields Drive odorif'rous loads of plants and flow'rs, Which please the manes. Amaranth and rose, Fresh parsley, myrtle, and whate'er the sun, Now not remote from Aries in his course, Call'd from the quick and vegetating womb Of nature green or florid, from their seats Of growth are borne for pious hands to weave In fun'ral chaplets. From the Grecian states, To honour Athens, their deputed chiefs, Cleander foremost, throng the public place; Whence Aristides with advancing speed Salutes Sicinus: Welcome is thy face, Good man, thou know'st; from Athens long estrang'd, Now doubly welcome. In thy looks I read Important news. Retiring from the crowd, Swift in discourse, but full, Sicinus ran Through all the feries of his lord's exploits, Which drew this question: Has thy patron ought To ask of Aristides? Silent bow'd Sicinus. Smiling then, the chief pursu'd:

Do thou attend the ceremonial pomp Of obsequies to morrow; when the slain At Salamis receive their just reward From us, survivors by their glorious fall. I have detain'd thee from Timothea long, The first entitled to thy grateful news.

Now to that matron, whom beyond himself He priz'd, Sicinus hastens. At her loom He finds her placid o'er a web, whose glow Of colours rivall'd Iris. where intent She wove th' atchievements of her lord. Her skill Had just portray'd Sandauce in the arms Of Artamanes, when her children's doom Congeal'd her breast. Themistocles in look Expresses all that subtlety humane, Which cozen'd superstition of her prey; His godlike figure dignifies the work. Two boys, two lovely little maids, surround Th' illustrious artist, while their eyes pursue Their mother's flying fingers in delight Attentive. But their tutor once in view, From absence long regretted, light with joy To him they bound. Sicinus melts in tears Of soft affection. They around him lift Their gratulating voices, on his neck Cling, and contend for kisses from those lips Approv'd in kindness; as a flutt'ring brood With chirping fondness, nature's sweetest note, Inclose their feather'd parent, who attunes Her tender pipe, and spreads endearing plumes.

Sicinus, cries Timothea, thou dost bring Auspicious tidings; from my hero I Expect no less. Unaided by the state, A private man, like Hercules he went, In his own pow'rs confiding, and secure. Sit down, thou witness of my husband's worth, Thyself a proof of his discerning choice In thee, good man, by me and mine rever'd, Discreet and faithful. No, Sicinus spake, Thou art that proof, most faithful, most discreet, Most excellent of women. Come, she said, Suppress my praises; let me hear of none, But his; and copious let thy story flow.

Glad through his whole heroic theme the sage, By time to Attic eloquence inur'd, Expatiates large; where loftiness of plan Sustain'd by counsel, with exhaustless art Pursu'd, now brought to valour's final proof, Must end in sure success. His lord's commands Observing strict, Acanthè's precious worth, In talents, form and manners, he describes; How she the aid of Chalcis had procur'd, Her favour how Themistocles had won.

If he pursue to victory his plan, Timothea said, and borrow from her hand The means of glory, and the gen'ral good, Tell him, that I can imitate with joy Andromachè, who foster'd on her breast Her Hector's offspring by a stol'n embrace.

Not such thy lot, sole mistress of a form Match'd by perfection of the mind alone, Sicinus cheerful answer'd. I attest To this my firm belief th' all-ruling sire, Let Horomazes be his name, or Jove.

Thou giv'st me transport—Thou hast leave to smile, My good Sicinus, she replies—But heav'n I too attest, that transport I conceive Less for my own, than fair Acanthè's sake. So amiably endow'd, so clear in fame, Her purity resigning, she, alas! Had prov'd the only suff'rer. Woman fall'n, The more illustrious once, the more disgrac'd, Ne'er can resume her lustre. Laurels hide A hero's wanton lapse. The Greeks would bless The guile which serves them, but to endless shame The gen'rous auth'ress of that service doom. Thou said'st, my husband from Cleander's sword Solicits help; Cleander is my guest With Ariphilia; ready in this port His squadron lies; he plough'd the seas in quest Of earliest action for the common cause. Come, they are waiting for the night's repast.

She rose; Sicinus follow'd, and renew'd In Ariphilia's and Cleander's ear The wondrous narrative, but cautious veils Acanthè's love. Timothea's looks approv'd. He then concluded: Thus, to battle rous'd, The force of half Euboea cas'd in steel Against the tyrant Demonax I left; But in the chace of that devouring wolf On thee relies Themistocles for help, Undaunted chief of Troezen. He replies:

Should I withhold it, by th' immortal gods, The titles both of soldier and of friend Were mine no longer. Ariphilia then, Sweet as a vernal flow'r in early prime, A Grace in manner, Hebè in her form:

Say, gentle sage, of Delphi's rev'rend priest, Of Haliartus, and Oïleus' son, Kind guests of mine, no tidings dost thou bear?

He answers: Them in Atalantè's isle The turbulent Euripus yet confines; They soon, fair matron, to thy lord and mine Will add their strength and level from its base The tyrant's hold. Amid this converse sweet The warrior-poet Aeschylus appears, A grateful visitant to all. He spake:

Fair dame, admit me, introducing men Who saw thy gallant consort yester morn Erecting trophies; men themselves renown'd, Oïlean Medon, and Apollo's priest Long lost, whom I, unknowing of their fate, Have clasp'd in transport, as Laertes' son, When he review'd his metamorphos'd friends In Circe's island to their pristine forms Uprising by her charms. Timothea glad Salutes the ent'ring heroes, Medon known Before, Leonteus, Delphi's holy seer With Artemisia's brother, strangers all, But of deportment to command regard.

Then spake the Locrian: First of matrons, hail! On Salaminian sands we parted last. I have been long in Atalantè's isle Sequester'd; but, determin'd to attend The fun'ral honours which the morning pays To brave Athenians slain, an hour serene To cross the strait Euripus I embrac'd For Chalcis. There thy consort fresh I found In gather'd palms from Demonax o'erthrown That day in battle. Hear the glorious tale, Which from Themistocles himself I learn'd. He, well-inform'd, the chiefs in either host Distinctly told, their history, their names, Their birth and deeds, on Hyacinthus most, As most esteem'd, enlarg'd. That hapless youth Was husband to Cleora; daughter she Of Demonax was poison'd by her sire. Survey this tablet, which before my sight Thy hero took, with readiness of skill Delineating the fight. Shew this, he said, To my Timothea, friendly thou explain. This part is Chalcis, this a champaign wide; Here flows the sea, there winds a quarry dark.

Conceive a river by impetuous floods O'erswol'n, and spread irregular, and wild, Beyond its bounds; tumultuous thus the foes At first appear'd. Expecting to surprise, Themselves surpris'd at unexpected bands, Through open'd portals issuing to the plain, Are forc'd, dishearten'd by a toilsome march, To range their numbers for immediate fight. The wary son of Neocles suspends Th' attack, till bursting drifts of southern clouds Beat on the faces of his harrass'd foes A storm of blinding sleet; then rushes down In three deep columns. Of th' Orēan line The right, which Mindarus conducting wheels Along the sea's flat margin, sore is gall'd By unremitted show'rs from bows and slings On well-rang'd vessels. Lamachus commands The left. Nearchus from the quarry pours An ambush'd force, and breaks the hostile flank. Compact of vet'rans, cull'd from ev'ry state, That wedge of war, whose bristly front display'd Athenian spears and Spartan mingling beams, (Themistocles the leader) slow but sure Bears down the center. At a second breach The line gives way to Cleon, at a third To swift Carystians. Not a life is spar'd By wrong'd, incens'd Eretrians, not a life By Hyacinthus, boiling with revenge For his Cleora; while her cruel sire Exerts a desp'rate valour to revive Hope in an army spiritless by toil, By sudden onset broken, at the name And sight of thy Themistocles abash'd. The rout is gen'ral. In the bloody chace Five thousand slain the conquerors despoil. Thy husband, prudent in success, preserves Two thousand heads, all Persian, to redeem Eretrian captives from the tyrant's bonds. He, thus defeated, not subdu'd, retir'd To Oreus. Pow'rful remnants of his host He, draws within her circuit; furnish'd well From boundless treasure, threatens there to hold A firm defence, till, summon'd by the spring, Mardonius quit Thessalia, and employ The whole confederated pow'r of Greece.

That threat Themistocles will render vain, Exults Timothea; he unfinish'd leaves No toil begun. Again the Locrian chief:

Now my first duty is discharg'd; the next To Ariphilia from her guest is due. O soft in virtue, elegantly fair, Cleander's favour'd paranymph retains Thy hospitable kindness ever dear; Thine too, my gallant host, by Neptune bless'd In his own priestess, and with brightest fame On his own floods adorn'd. The pleasing hours All spend in mutual gratulation sweet, Till for the morn's solemnity they part.

Below th' Aegalean mountain, where the king Of humbled Asia on his golden throne Was seated late, spectator of his shame At Salamis, a level space extends To Neptune's border. Green Psittalia there Full opposite exhibits, high and large, A new erected trophy. Twenty masts Appear, the tallest of Phoenician pines, In circular position. Round their base Are massive anchors, rudders, yards, and oars, Irregularly pil'd, with beaks of brass, And naval sculpture from Barbarian sterns, Stupendous by confusion. Crested helms Above, bright mail, habergeons scal'd in gold, And figur'd shields along the spiry wood Up to th' aerial heads in order wind, Tremendous emblems of gigantic Mars. Spears, bristling through the intervals, uprear Their points obliquely; gilded staves project Embroider'd colours; darts and arrows hang In glitt'ring clusters. On the topmost height Th' imperial standard broad, from Asia won, Blaz'd in the sun, and floated in the wind. Of smooth Pentelic marble on the beach, Where flow'd the brine of Salamis, a tomb Insculptur'd rose. Achievements of that day When Asia's navy fell, in swelling forms Fill'd on three sides the monument. The fourth, Unfinish'd, open'd to th' interior grave.

Now, through Minerva's populace, who kept Religious silence, first white-vested maids, Who from the strand of Salamis had seen The patriots slain, their sepulchre approach With wreaths and garlands; then of chosen youths A troop, whose valour had the fight surviv'd. The younger matrons, husbands ripe in age, Nor less in fame, succeed. Of either sex The elders follow. Kindred of the dead Come next, their wives, their children. Urns, which hold The sacred ashes, are in open cars Discover'd. One close chariot is reserv'd For them, whose bodies fate from search conceal'd. Last Aristides, in his civil robe, Attracts the gazing multitude; his wheels, Myronides, Xanthippus, Cimon great, Aminias, Aeschylus, and ev'ry chief For prowess known attend. Around the tomb Are plac'd the children; roses in the bud Entwine their brows; their little grasp upholds Green sprigs of myrtle; well instructed, all Refrain from weeping o'er paternal dust, Deposited by glory in the grave. A high tribunal Aristides mounts; Near him, on ev'ry side, are seats assign'd To strangers held in honour. Medon there, Leonteus, Timon, and the brother known Of Caria's queen, Cleander, numbers more From states ennobled in their names are seen. The godlike man uprises; on the tomb His eyes he fixes first; their lustre mild He then diffuses o'er th' assembly vast, Where not a tongue is heard, nor gesture seen. So through unclouded skies the argent lamp Of Dian visits with her light benign A surface broad of water, where no breeze Excites a swell, nor sighs among the reeds.

Your fathers, wise and lib'ral, he began, Appointed public obsequies to all Who die in battle for the public good, Ye men of Athens. Not a groan, or tear Must violate their ashes. These have gain'd What all should envy; these, by virtuous death, The height of human excellence have reach'd, Have found the surest path to endless joy With demigods and heroes in those fields, Which tyrants ne'er can enter to molest The blissful region; but are far remov'd To realms of horror, and from righteous Jove Endure the pains they merit from mankind. There, if retaining, as they surely must, The memory of things belov'd on earth, It will enhance their happiness to know Their offspring cherish'd, and their wives rever'd By grateful Athens, whom their glorious fall Exalts, whose daughters they preserv'd from shame, Whose sons from bonds. This bliss benignant Jove, Who loves the patriot, never can withhold From them, who little would deserve that name, Unless those sweetest charities they feel, Paternal cares, and conjugal esteem, The props of public and domestic weal. Them to defend, Athenians, to maintain Inviolate your altars, tombs and laws, Let contemplation of the present rites Give principle new strength. Behold a foe, Who hath profan'd your ancestors in dust. Lo! on a cross Leonidas affix'd, His patriot bones expos'd to bleaching winds By that Barbarian, Xerxes. Kings alone, Obtuse of mind, illiberal, the brutes Of human nature, can devise and act Barbarities like these. But such a foe Leagues Heav'n against him. Nemesis will join With Grecian Mars, and all her furies plant His foot on Asia's boundaries, to shake An impious tyrant on his native throne. Then of the patriot dead, whose swords prepar'd Your way to glory, and achiev'd their own, This recent tomb, when dress'd in eastern spoils, Will best delight their manes, and proclaim To Gods and men your gratitude and arms.

He paus'd. Aegaleos echo'd to the sound Of acclamation; Salamis reply'd. But as the sun, when casual clouds before His intercepted light have pass'd away, Renews his splendour, so the righteous man In eloquence and counsel thus again Breaks forth: Xanthippus, in the gales of spring, To brave the coast Barbaric you decree; While, on Boeotia's plains, your phalanx meets Mardonian ranks. Now hear of wond'rous acts To you unknown, unpromis'd, just perform'd By an Athenian. Winter hath not slept Inactive; your Themistocles hath rous'd That sluggish season by the clang of war; A force creating by his matchless art, He hath o'erthrown fierce Demonax, and coop'd Within his fort. Delib'rate swift, my friends, How to assist your hero; Justice calls On ev'ry tongue ingenuous so to style Themistocles; who wants but slender help. Your skill, Athenians, in surmounting walls Excels in Greece. Select experienc'd bands; An instantaneous effort may o'erwhelm Beneath the ruins of his last retreat Euboea's scourge, whose prevalence might shut That granary of Athens, and transfer To Asia's num'rous camp your needful stores.

All in applauding admiration hear Disinterested virtue, which exalts A rival's merit. But thy gen'rous breast, To all superior in sensation high Divine Timothea, entertains a warmth Of grateful rapture in thy lord's behalf, Which shines confess'd. Sicinus, at her side, Condemns his lord, who nothing would request Of Aristides; him, who grants unask'd, His soul adores. Aminias, rising, spake; A fearless warrior, brother to the bard, Like him sincere, less polish'd, learn'd and wise, By right intention more than conduct sway'd:

Who can for all deliberate so well, As Aristides singly? Let us fight; But with sole pow'r of counsel and command, Throughout this war's duration, by a law Invest him uncontrollable. Up starts The interrupting patriot, nor permits The people's confidence in him to grow In wild excess: Ne'er yet th' almighty sire Created man of purity to hold A trust like this. Athenians, mark my words; I am your legal military chief; If your immediate safety should require An use of pow'r, unwarranted by laws, I will exert it, not accept as law; The censure or acquittal of my act With you shall rest. At present I advise, That from Phaleron Aeschylus transport Two thousand skilful vet'rans. Him the seed Of Neocles approves; not less in arms Than arts excelling, him your warriors prize. Them, ere two monthly periods of the sun, You cannot want. Thick verdure must invest The meadows, earth her foodful stores mature, Before Mardonius can his numbers lead From Thessaly remote. Ere then, my friends, Themistocles will conquer, and erect Cecropia's standard on Orēan walls; Your timely aid he timely will restore To fill the army of united Greece.

The gen'ral voice assents, and all retire, While to her home Timothea brings her guests. To her Sicinus prudent: Not an hour, Till I rejoin thy consort, should be lost. She then: Most faithful, from my arm receive This bracelet rich in gems, Barbaric spoil; Bear this to Chalcis, to Acanthè give; Say, how I prize her elevated mind, Enabling my Themistocles to quell The hateful breed of tyrants. Further say, The man engaging her connubial hand I should esteem the favourite of gods. Stay; Haliartus shall the present bear. Thou to my lord a messenger of love Shalt go, Sicinus; words to thee I leave; My heart thou know'st. One fervent wish impart, That he in private, as in public ties, With Aristides may at last unite.

So spake the first of women. Troezen's chief Subjoin'd: Sicinus, wait till morn; embark With these our friends of Atalantè's isle Aboard my squadron; soon will southern gales My succour waft, and jointly we proclaim Brave Aeschylus to follow. Let us greet Him, who our valour into action calls For ev'ry chief to envy; him to clasp My bosom pants, a hero, who surmounts The sloth of winter while so many brave Hang up their weapons. Ariphilia heard, Sat mute and sad. To her Timothea thus:

We, who are wives of soldiers, will remain Together, cheerful watch for tidings dear Of their achievements, and rejoice at home.