The slaves of Xerxes tremble at my lance,
Should they adventure on a fresh assault?
To him the Thespian youth. My friend, my
guide

To noble actions, since thy gen'rous heart
Intent on fame disdains to rest, oh grant
I too thy glorious labours may partake,
May learn once more to imitate thy deeds.
Thou, gentlest Agis, Sparta's king entreat
Not to command us from the field of war.
Yes, persevering heroes, he replied,
I will return, will Sparta's king entreat
Not to command you from the field of war.

Then interposed Demophilus. Oh friend,
Who lead'st to conquest brave Platea's sons;
Thou, too, loved offspring of the dearest man,
Who dost restore a brother to my eyes;
My soul your magnanimity applauds :
But, oh reflect, that unabating toil
Subdues the mightiest. Valour will repine,
When the weak hand obeys the heart no more.
Yet I, declining through 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
Casts from your whiten'd heads the helm aside;
When in the temples your enfeebled arms
Have hung their consecrated shields, the land
Which gave you life, in her defence employ'd,
Shall then by honours, doubled on your age,
Bequit the gen'rous labours of your prime.

So spake the senior, and forsook the cave. But from the fount Diomedon receives Th' overflowing waters in his concave helm, Addressing thus the genius of the stream. Whoe'er thou art, divinity unstain'd Of this fair fountain, till unsparing Mars Heap'd carnage round thee, bounteous are thy

streams

To me, who ill repay thee. I again
Thy silver-gleaming current must pollute,
Which, mix'd with gore, shall tinge the Malian
slime.

He said, and lifted in his brimming casque
The bright, refreshing moisture. Thus repairs
The spotted panther to Hydaspes' side,
Or eastern Indus, feasted on the blood
Of some torn deer, which nigh his cruel grasp
Had roam'd, unheeding, in the secret shade;
Rapacious o'er the humid brink he stoops,
And in the pure and fluid crystal cools

His reeking jaws. Meantime the Thespian's eye Roves round the vaulted space; when sudden sounds

Of music, utter'd by melodious harps,
And melting voices, distant, but in tones
By distance soften'd, while the echoes sigh'd
In lulling replication, fill the vault
With harmony. In admiration mute,

With nerves unbraced by rapture, he, entranced,
Stands like an eagle, when his parting plumes
The balm of sleep relaxes, and his wings
Fall from his languid side. Platea's chief,
Observing, roused the warrior. Son of Mars,
Shall music's softness from thy bosom steal

The sense of glory? From his neighb'ring camp
Perhaps the Persian sends fresh nations down.
Soon in bright steel Thermopyla will blaze.
Awake. Accustom'd to the clang of arms,
Intent on vengeance for invaded Greece,
My ear, my spirit in this hour admit
No new sensation, nor a change of thought.
The Thespian starting from oblivious sloth
Of ravishment and wonder, quick replied.

These sounds were more than human. Hark!

Again!

Oh honour'd friend, no adverse banner streams In sight. No shout proclaims the Persian freed From his late terror. Deeper let us plunge In this mysterious dwelling of the nymphs, Whose voices charm its gloom. In smiles reDiomedon. I see thy soul enthrall'd. [join'd Me thou would'st rank among the unletter'd rout Of yon barbarians, should I press thy stay. Time favours too. Till Agis be return'd, We cannot act. Indulge thy eager search. Here will I wait, a sentinel unmoved, To watch thy coming. In exploring haste Th' impatient Thespian penetrates the cave. He finds it bounded by a steep ascent Of rugged steps; where down the hollow rock A modulation clear, distinct, and slow In movement solemn from a lyric string, Dissolves the stagnant air to sweet accord With these sonorous lays. Celestial maids! While, from our cliffs contemplating the war, We celebrate our heroes, oh impart Orphean magic to the pious strain! That from the mountain we may call the groves, Swift motion through these marble fragments To overleap the high tean ridge, [breathe And crush the fell invaders of our peace. The animated hero upward springs Light, as a kindled vapour, which, confined In subterranean cavities, at length Pervading, rives the surface to enlarge The long-imprison'd flame. Ascending soon, He sees, he stands abash'd, then rev'rend kneels. An aged temple with insculptured forms Of Jove's harmonious daughters, and a train Of nine bright virgins, round their priestess Who stood in awful majesty, receive [ranged His unexpected feet. The song is hush'd. The measured movement on the lyric chord In faint vibration dies. The priestess sage, Whose elevated port and aspect rose To more than mortal dignity, her lyre Consigning graceful to attendant hands, Looks with reproof. The loose, uncovered hair Shades his inclining forehead, while a flush Of modest crimson dyes his youthful cheek. Her pensive vision softens to a smile, On worth so blooming, which she thus accosts. I should reprove thee, inadvertent youth, Who through the sole access by nature left To this pure mansion, with intruding steps Dost interrupt our lays. But rise. Thy sword Perhaps embellish'd that triumphant scene, Which waked these harps to celebrating notes. What is the impress on thy warlike shield?

Would he repose him, at her feet reclined;
While o'er his lips her lovely forehead bow'd,
Won by his grateful eloquence, which soothed
With sweet variety the tedious march,
Beguiling time. He too would then forget
His pains awhile, in raptures vain entranced,
Delusion all, and fleeting rays of joy,
Soon overcast by more intense despair;
Like wint'ry clouds, which, op'ning for a time,
Tinge their black folds with gleams of scatter'd
Then, swiftly closing, on the brow of morn [light,|
Condense their horrors, and in thickest gloom
The ruddy beauty veil. They now approach
The tower of Belus. Hyperanthes leads
Through Babylon an army to chastise
The crime of Egypt. Teribazus here

Parts from his princess, marches bright in steel
Beneath his patron's banner, gathers palms
On conquer'd Nile. To Susa he returns,
To Ariana's residence, and bears
Deep in his heart the immedicable wound.
But unreveal'd and silent was his pain;
Nor yet in solitary shades he roam'd,
Nor shunn'd resort: but o'er his sorrows cast
A sickly dawn of gladness, and in smiles
Conceal'd his anguish; while the secret flame
Raged in his bosom, and its peace consumed:
His soul still brooding o'er these mournful
thoughts.

The day arrived, when Xerxes first advanced
His arms from Susa's gates. The Persian dames,
So were accustom'd all the eastern fair,
In sumptuous cars accompanied his march,
A beauteous train, by Ariana graced.
Her Teribazus follows, on her wheels
Attends and pines. Such woes oppress the youth,
Oppress, but not enervate. From the van

He in this second conflict had withstood
The threat'ning frown of adamantine Mars,
He singly, while his bravest friends recoil'd.
His manly temples no tiara bound.
The slender lance of Asia he disdain'd,
And her light target. Eminent he tower'd
In Grecian arms, the wonder of his foes;
Among the Ionians were his strenuous limbs
Train'd in the gymnic school. A fulgent casque
Inclosed his head. Before his face and chest
Down to the knees an ample shield was spread.
A pond'rous spear he shook. The well-aim'd point
Sent two Phliasians to the realms of death
With four Tegæans, whose indignant chief,
Brave Hegesander, vengeance breathed in vain,
With streaming wounds repulsed. Thus far un-
match'd,

His arm prevail'd; when Hyperanthes call'd
From fight his fainting legions. Now each band
Their languid courage reinforced by rest.
Meantime with Teribazus thus conferr'd [youth,
The applauding prince. Thou much-deserving
Had twenty warriors in the dang'rous van
Like thee inaintain'd the onset, Greece had wept
Her prostrate ranks. The wearied fight awhile
I now relax, till Abradates strong,
Orontes and Mazæus are advanced.

Then to the conflict will I give no pause.
If not by prowess, yet by endless toil
Successive numbers shall exhaust the foe.
He said. Immersed in sadness, scarce replied,
But to himself complain'd the am'rous youth.
Still do I languish, mourning o'er the fame
My arm acquires. Tormented heart! thou seat
Of constant sorrow, what deceitful smiles
Yet canst thou borrow from unreal hope
To flatter life? at Ariana's feet
What if with supplicating knees I bow,
Implore her pity, and reveal my love.
Wretch! canst thou climb to yon effulgent orb,
And share the splendours which irradiate heaven?
Dost thou aspire to that exalted maid,
Great Xerxes' sister, rivalling the claim
Of Asia's proudest potentates and kings?
Unless within her bosom I inspired

A passion fervent as my own, nay more,
Such, as dispelling every virgin fear,
Might, unrestrain'd, disclose its fond desire,
My love is hopeless; and her willing hand,
Should she bestow it, draws from Asia's lord
On both perdition. By despair benumb'd,
His limbs their action lose. A wish for death
O'ercasts and chills his soul. When sudden cries
From Ariamnes rouse his drooping powers.
Alike in manners, they of equal age
Were friends, and partners in the glorious toil
Of war. Together they victorious chased
The bleeding sons of Nile, when Egypt's pride
Before the sword of Hyperanthes fell.
That loved companion Teribazus views
By all abandon'd, in his gore outstretch'd,
The victor's spoil. His languid spirit starts;
He rushes ardent from the Persian line;
The wounded warrior in his strong embrace
He bears away. By indignation stung,
Fierce from the Grecians Diophantus sends
A loud defiance. Teribazus leaves
His rescued friend. His massy shield he rears;
High-brandishing his formidable spear.
He turns intrepid on the approaching foe.
Amazement follows. On he strides, and shakes
The plumed honours of his shining crest.
The ill-fated Greek awaits the unequal fight,
Pierced in the throat, with sounding arms he falls.
Through every file the Mantineans mourn.
Long on the slain the victor fix'd his sight
With these reflections. By thy splendid arms
Thou art a Greek of no ignoble rank.
From thy ill fortune I perhaps derive
A more conspicuous lustre-What if heaven
Should add new victims, such as thou, to grace
My undeserving hand? who knows, but she
Might smile upon my trophies. Oh! vain thought!
I see the pride of Asia's monarch swell
With vengeance fatal to her beauteous head.
Disperse, ye phantom hopes. Too long, torn
heart,

Hast thou with grief contended. Lo! I plant
My foot this moment on the verge of death,
By fame invited, by despair impell'd
To pass the irremeable bound. No more
Shall Teribazus backward turn his step,

But here conclude his doom. Then cease to heave, Thou troubled bosom, every thought be calm Now at the approach of everlasting peace.

He ended; when a mighty foe drew nigh, Not less than Dithyrambus. Ere they join'd, The Persian warrior to the Greek began:

Art thou the unconquerable chief, who mow'd Our battle down? That eagle on thy shield Too well proclaims thee. To attempt thy force I rashly purposed. That my single arm [know Thou deign'st to meet, accept my thanks, and The thought of conquest less employs my soul, Than admiration of thy glorious deeds, And that by thee I cannot fall disgraced.

He ceased. These words the Thespian youth return'd:

[mark'd

Of all the praises from thy gen'rous mouth,
The only portion my desert may claim,
Is this my bold adventure to confront
Thee, yet unmatch'd. What Grecian hath not
Thy flaming steel? from Asia's boundless camp
Not one hath equall'd thy victorious might.
But whence thy armour of the Grecian form?
Whence thy tall spear, thy helmet? Whence the
weight

Of that strong shield? Unlike thy eastern friends,
Oh if thou be'st some fugitive, who, lost
To liberty and virtue, art become
A tyrant's vile stipendiary, that arm,
That valour thus triumphant I deplore,
Which after all their efforts and success
Deserve no honour from the gods, or men.
Here Teribazus in a sigh rejoin'd:

[mand

I am to Greece a stranger, am a wretch
To thee unknown, who courts this hour to die,
Yet not ignobly, but in death to raise
My name from darkness, while I end my woes.
The Grecian then: I view thee, and I mourn.
A dignity, which virtue only bears,
Firm resolution, seated on thy brow,
Though grief hath dimm'd thy drooping eye, de-
My veneration: and whatever be
The malice of thy fortune, what the cares,
Infesting thus thy quiet, they create
Within my breast the pity of a friend.
Why then, constraining my reluctant hand
To act against thee, will thy might support
The unjust ambition of malignant kings,
The foes to virtue, liberty, and peace?
Yet free from rage or enmity I lift
My adverse weapon. Victory I ask.
Thy life may fate for happier days reserve.

This said, their beaming lances they protend,

Of hostile hate, or fury both devoid,
As on the Isthmian, or Olympic sands
For fame alone contending. Either host,
Poised on their arms, in silent wonder gaze.
The fight commences. Soon the Grecian spear,
Which all the day in constant battle worn,
Unnumber'd shields and corselets had transfix'd,
Against the Persian buckler, shiv'ring, breaks,
Its master's hand disarming. Then began
The sense of honour, and the dread of shame
To swell in Dithyrambus. Undismay'd,
He grappled with his foe, and instant seized

At last,

His threat'ning spear, before the uplifted arm
Could execute the meditated wound.
The weapon burst between their struggling grasp.
Their hold they loosen, bare their shining swords.
With equal swiftness to defend or charge,
Each active youth advances and recedes.
On every side they traverse. Now direct,
Obliquely now the wheeling blades descend.
Still is the conflict dubious; when the Greek,
Dissembling, points his falchion to the ground,
His arm depressing, as o'ercome by toil:
While with his buckler cautious he repels
The blows, repeated by his active foe.
Greece trembles for her hero. Joy pervades
The ranks of Asia. Hyperanthes strides
Before the line, preparing to receive
His friend triumphant: while the wary Greek,
Calm and defensive, bears the assault.
As by the incautious fury of his strokes,
The Persian swung his covering shield aside,
The fatal moment Dithyrambus seized.
Light darting forward with his feet outstretch'd,
Between the unguarded ribs he plunged his steel.
Affection, grief, and terror, wing the speed
Of Hyperanthes. From his bleeding foe
The Greek retires, not distant, and awaits
The Persian prince. But he with watery cheeks
In speechless anguish clasps his dying friend;
From whose cold lip, with interrupted phrase,
These accents break: Oh dearest, best of men!
Ten thousand thoughts of gratitude and love
Are struggling in my heart-O'erpow'ring fate
Denies my voice the utterance-Oh my friend!
O Hyperanthes! Hear my tongue unfold
What, had I lived, thou never should'st have
known.

I loved thy sister. With despair I loved.
Soliciting this honourable doom,

Without regret in Persia's sight and thine

I fall. The inexorable hand of fate

Weighs down his eyelids, and the gloom of death
His fleeting light eternally o'ershades.
Him on Choaspes o'er the blooming verge
A frantic mother shall bewail; shall strew
Her silver tresses in the crystal wave:
While all the shores re-echo to the name
Of Teribazus lost.

THE SAME CONTINUED.

FROM BOOK IX.

IN sable vesture, spangled o'er with stars, The Night assumed her throne. Recall'd from war, Their toil, protracted long, the Greeks forget, Dissolved in silent slumber, all but those Who watch th' uncertain perils of the dark, A hundred warriors. Agis was their chief. High on the wall intent the hero sat. Fresh winds across the undulating bay From Asia's host the various din convey'd In one deep murmur, swelling on his ear. When by the sound of footsteps down the pass Alarm'd, he calls aloud. What feet are these Which beat the echoing pavement of the rock! Reply, nor tempt inevitable fate.