Three talents bring; they, Cleon, shall be thine;
Seek those in every part who vend, not give.
The gifts of Ceres in profusion bear,
The gifts of Pan, the grape's reviving juice,
To these, my fellow warriors, who have seen
My banner streaming, twice have lent their aid
To my renown; meantime our naval food
Shall be their portion; vesture now shall cheer
Their limbs. My brave companions, I have brought
The spear and buckler for your manly hands;
Your strength restor'd shall feel the glorious weight
Of crested helms. Tisander, let them rest
Within thy shelt'ring temple, not to sink
Beneath distress, but vig'rous soon renew
Their practis'd race of honour. Pass, my friends,
Be mute; expression of your joy I wave;
Again to morrow you and I will meet."

Tisander, happy, entertains his guests,
Twelve hundred countrymen, the last remains
Of populous Eretria. Plenty's boon
Alert the Attic mariners diffuse

To all, and cordial tend their wants; discreet
Sicinus curbs excess. The tidings brought
Of his performance from a short repast
Dismiss'd his lord applauding; who serene,
Stretch'd on his naval pillow, slept till dawn.
He rose. To him Sicinus: "Will my lord
Permit his servant, with an active band
Of sailors, these obstructions to remove,
Or so dispose, that feeblest steps may find
A passage free to good Tisander's fane:
That through its wonted apertures, the round
Of that huge pile, where Jupiter should dwell,
Now dark as Pluto's palace, may admit
The light of Heav'n? Yet further, we must search
For coverts dry, if such the greedy flames
Have left among these ruins, to secure
The various stores, which Cleon may transport."
To him his lord: "Go, monitor expert,
Accomplish what thou counsell'st." Tow'rds the fane
Himself not slow proceeds. Before the front,
On scatter'd fragments of their ancient homes,
Th' Eretrians, pale with long-continu'd want,
Are seated. Thick as winter-famish'd birds
Perch on the boughs, which icicles encrust,
Yet chirp and flutter in th' attemp'ring Sun,
These, at the hero's presence, wave their hands,
Unite their efforts in acclaim not loud,
But cordial, rather in a gen'ral sigh
Of gratitude. The charitable care
Of his best warriors, some of noblest birth,
Impart their help, like parents to a race
Of tender infants. Once of might approv'd
In battle, hardiest of the naval breed,
Th' Eretrians, worn by hunger, scarce retain
The slender pow'rs of childhood. One by one
Themistocles consoles them, and devotes
In condescension sedulous the day
To kindness not impolitic. In these
His piercing genius fit materials saw
To build another structure of renown.
Ere he retires, Tisander thus he greets:

"Wilt thou, O father! on my board bestow An evening hour?"-" My moments all belong To this yet helpless people," said the priest. "Such pious care through me shall Heav'n reward,"

Exclaims the chief, as round him he remarks
The toiling sailors; "soon, thou guardian good
Of wretched men committed to thy charge,

Soon shall thy temple reassume its state.
Prepare an altar; hetacombs again
Shall smoke ere long, Eretria cast aside
Her widow'd garb, and lift her festive palms
To eleutherian Jove." This utter'd, swift
He seeks his vessel, while the Sun descends.

Calm, as in summer, through an ether clear
Aurora leads the day. A cheerful sound
Of oxen, lowing from the hollow dales
Which tow'rds Carystus wind, of bleeting sheep,
Yet nearer driven across the Eretrian plain,
Awake Themistocles. His couch he leaves,
Revisiting the temple; there enjoys
The gen'ral transport. Plenty on the wing
Is nigh, the comforts of her fruitful horn
To pour on desolation. Cleon comes,
Accosting thus Themistocles: "My task
Is well accomplish'd through the lib'ral zeal
Of Hyacinthus near a youth unlike
His sire Nicomachus. That subtile chief
Of our Carystian neighbours is behind,
Escorting laden carriages of grain,

Thy purchase; nought his sordid hand bestows.
He, curious more than friendly in our need,
Or of thy name respectful, to explore,
Not help or pity, hither bends his course."

"Conduct the father to my ship," reply'd
Themistocles; "sure yonder is the son,
Thou hast describ'd; ingenuous are his looks.
Like him, whose name he bears, his beauteous form
Might charm the beaming god once more to court
A mortal's friendship; but, dejection pale
O'ercasts his hue; strange melancholy dims
His youthful eye; too modest, or unmann'd
By languor, child of grief, he stops and bows
In distant, seeming awe, which wounds my soul.
I must salute him. Noble youth, receive
My hand; Themistocles of Greece expects
No such obeisance from a fellow Greek.
The majesty of Athens might exact
That conquer'd tyrants, in my presence brought,
Low as the dust should crouch beneath her chief."
A start of anguish Hyacinthus gave
At these last words, then silent bow'd again
His decent brow; not awe, but latent ills
Seem'd to control his tongue. Th' observant chief
Defers inquiry to its season due,

To Cleon's charge consigns him, and retires
To his own galley. Waiting for the sire,
He meditates a moment on the son:

"I see advantage in this youth's distress---
My plan is form'd." He hastens to unbar
His copious treasure; thence in dazzling show
He spreads four silver talents on his board,
O'er them a mantle throws, and brief again
Thus ruminates: "Now, Plutus, who canst sap
The strong-bas'd tow'r, and soften rigid hearts,
Smile on this juncture. Aristides scorns
Thy deity, Themistocles invokes

Thy precious succour. From profoundest woe
Disconsolate Eretria thou hast rais'd;
Now by a sordid instrument give life
To dull Carystus." Sudden in his view,
By Cleon brought, who instantly withdraws,
Nicomachus appears, and thus begins:

"The Salaminian victor I salute,
Charg'd by Carystus; happy is my lot
To venerate the chief, and touch the hand
Which humbled Asia. Doth Euboea see
Thee visitant illustrious to rebuild

Eretria? then instruct her to confine
That pow'r and pride, her neighbours felt of old."
"Th' Athenian here: "Euboea sees me coine
Both to upraise, Caryst an, and depress;
But to exalt thy state, my friend, I wish,
Wish thy possessions equal to thy worth.
Behold!" Uplifting to the greedy eye
Of avarice the mantle, he pursues :
"Behold, four silver talents! Them accept,
Which in this casket to thy trusted slaves
I will deliver now; I only ask

Of thy deep-founded influence to warm
Supine Carystus: for thyself and Greece
Unite with mine thy standard. Further note,
If at my summons thou produce in arms
Thy citizens auxiliar, from this hand
Expect four added talents; but the hopes
Of no unpractis'd leader, who perceives
His enterprise assur'd, dare promise more,
A share, Nicomachus, of spoil in war,
To pass thy own belief." By present gain,
By more in promise, not by glory fir'd,
Nicomachus rejoins: "A thousand spears
Shall wait thy earliest notice." While he spake,
He snatch'd the casket, shut the treasure close,
Then rush'd to seek his confidential slave,
Who takes the precious charge. With placid looks
The cool, the politic Athenian sat
Like some experienc'd pilot, who serene,
In skilful guidance of the steady helm,
Enjoys the favour smooth of gale and tide,
Combin'd to waft o'er Ocean's fickle breast
His gliding keel, and lodge her costly freight
Secure at length in harbour. Now he spake
To his re-ent❜ring guest: "Carystian friend,
Thou hast a son, well-disciplin'd to war,
Brave, lib'ral, wise, I doubt not; wilt thou trust
To my society awhile his youth?"

"He is the object of my vows to Heav'n,"
Nicomachus exclaims, in passion feign'd,
"My soul's delight, the rapture of my eye!
If he were absent, ev'ry hour my age
Would feel a growing burden.""Come," rejoins
Th' Athenian, "him I only would detain
My messenger of orders to thy walls;
On him another talent would bestow."

"The gymnic school and letters," cries the sire,
"He follows, heeds not treasure; by his hand
Send me the talent; never let him know
The charge he bears." This said, he loudly calls
To Hyacinthus, who had gain'd the deck,
Him ent'ring thus addresses: "Son, the chief
Of Athens, great Themistocles, demands
Thee for companion." As a casual gleam
Breaks through th'unrav'lling texture of black clouds,
Which long on Winter's sullen face have hung;
So darts a ray of gladness through the gloom
Of Hyacinthus, by the Attic chief
Not unobserv'd. Intent on swift return,
Th' exulting father bids to both farewell.

Remaining day Themistocles employs
Among his sailors in th' Eretrian streets,
Inspects the necessary toil pursu'd
With unremitted vigour, then retires
To due refection. Cleon is a guest
With Hyacinthus, still by grief devour'd,
Which all his efforts strive in vain to hide.
Her heavy wing no sooner Night outspreads,
Than to Sicinus they are giv'n in charge,
While to his couch Themistocles repairs.

BOOK XII.

Now in the zodiac had the Sun o'erpass'd
The tenth fair sign. The new succeeding month,
Though not by Flora, nor Vertamus deck'd,
Nor green in hue, though first of Winter's train,
Oft with unsully'd skies irradiate cheers
The proue creation, and delights mankind.
The birds yet warble on the leafless sprays,
The placid surface, glaz'd by clearest light,
In crystal rivers, and transparent lakes,
Or Ocean's smooth cerulean bosom, shows
The finny tribes in play. The active son
Of Neocles uprises, and descries

A dawn which promis'd purity of air,
Of light and calmness, tempting Sloth herself
To action. Thus be rous'd his native fire:
"Of this kind season not a moment lose,
Themistocles." Sicinus, ever nigh,
He call'd: "Provide two receptacles sure,
Each to contain twelve talents; bring my arms,
Produce a second suit, resembling mine;
Send Hyacinthus; let my chosen band
Of Attic friends, and Sparta's fifty youths,
My followers, be ready for a march."

Soon Hyacinthus enters; still he shows
The perturbation of a mind oppress'd
By some conceal'd misfortune, while, beneath
The shade of sorrow, on his front appear'd
Excelling graces. Him the chief bespake,
Gay in his look, and sprightly in his tone:
"Her eastern hill, behold, the Morning mounts
In radiance, scatter'd from the liquid gems
On her loose mantle; but the heart of youth
In ev'ry season should rejoice, in clouds
Not less than sunshine, whether Nature's voice
Be hoarse in storms, or tune to whisp'ring gales
Her vernal music. Sharp some inward grief,
When youth is sad; yet Fortune oft deceives
The inexperienc'd by imagin'd ills,
Or light, which counsel of the more mature
Can lightly heal. Unlock thy lib'ral mind;
To me, a guardian pregnant of relief
Beyond thy father, countrymen, or friends,
Impart thy cares.' The sighing guest replied:
"To thy control my service I devote,
O scourge of tyrants, but retain my grief!
Which thou, O first of mortals, or the king
Of high Olympus, never can redress."

Sicinus interrupts; his lord's commands Are all accomplish'd. "Now, Carystian friend, Resembling me in stature, size, and limbs," The son of Neocles proceeds, aecept That suit of armour; I bave tried it well; Receive a shield familiar to my arm."

66

He next instructs Sicinus: "Thou receive Twelve talents; hasten to the neighb'ring walls Of stately Chalcis, populous and rich, Queen of Euboean cities, in whose port The twenty ships of Athens yet remain, Which Chalcis borrow'd, and equipp'd for war. Of her bold race four thousand we beheld Distinguish'd late in Artemisium's fight, At Salamis yet later. First approach The new-made archon in a rev'rent style, Timoxenus most potent in that state, A dubious, timid magistrate, unlike Nearchus. Cordial salutation bear To him, my brave associate; do not turn

Thy back on Chalcis, till thy prudence brings
Intelligence of weight; th' Athenian keels
With grain abundant and materials lade,
That friendly roofs th' Eretrians may obtain,
Before grim Winter harrow up these straits,
Unnavigable soon." This said, he arms;
Begirt by warriors, to the temple speeds,
And greets the priest: "In gladsome thought I see
The goddess Health,white-banded, crimson-cheek'd,
As from a silver car in roseate clouds
Look on thy people; dropping on their lips
Restoring dew, she bids them taste and live.
The convalescent piously employ

In labours, where my naval band shall join,
To free th' encumber'd temple, to repair,
To cover dwellings, lest the winter bring
New hardships. Martial exercise I leave
To Cleon's care, while ten revolving suns
Of absence I must count. Now, father, take
This hand, a hand which fortune and thy god
Have ever favour'd, which shall soon convert
The annual day of mourning in thy fane
To festival solemnity of joy."

Bless'd by Tisander, rapid he departs.
Young Hyacinthus follows, who in arms,
Once by his patron worn, to ev'ry eye
Presents a new Themistocles, but such,
As when th' allurement of his early bloom
He, not unconscious of the charm, display'd
To Attic damsels. Cloudless on their march
Apollo shoots a clear and tepid ray;
A scatter'd village in Carystian bounds
To rural hospitality admits

The wearied warriors. Hyacinthus guides
His great protector to a shelt'ring fane
Of Juno, styl'd connubial; stately round
Of beech extends a venerable shade;
Through ages time had witness'd to their growth,
Whose ruddy texture, disarray'd of green,
Glows in the purple of declining day.

They pass the marble threshold, when the youth, With visage pale, in accents broken spake:

"Unequall❜d man, behold the only place For thy reception fit; for mine"- -He paus'd; A gushing torrent of impetuous grief O'erwhelm'd his cheeks; now starting, on he rush'd, Before the sacred image wrung his hands; Then sinking down, along the pavement roll'd His body; in distraction would have dash'd His forehead there. Themistocles prevents, Uplifts, and binds him in a strong embrace; When thus in eager agony the youth:

"Is not thy purpose, godlike man, to crush
The tyrant Demonax, in torture cut
The murd'rer short, that he may feel the pangs
Of death unnatural?"-" Young man," replies
Th' Athenian grave, "to know my hidden thoughts,
Dost thou aspire, retaining still thy own?
Still in my presence thy distemper drinks
The cup of misery conceal'd, and seems,
Rejecting friendship's salutary hand,

To court the draught which poisons. Canst thou hope,
Mysterious youth, my confidence, yet none
Wilt in Themistocles repose?" His look,
His tone, in feign'd austerity he wrapp'd,
So Esculapius bitter juice apply'd

From helpful plants, his wisdom had explor'd,
The vehicles of health. In humble tears,
Which melted more than flow'd, the mourner thus:
"Forgive me, too regardless of thy grace;

Of all forgetful, save itself, my grief
Deserves thy frown, yet less than giddy joy,
Which, grown familiar, wantons in the smile
Of condescension. Ah! that grief will change
Reproof to more than pity; will excite

A thirst for vengeance, when thy justice hears
A tale"-" Unfold it," interpos'd the chief,
"To one who knows the various ways of men,
Hath study'd long their passions and their woes,
Nor less the med'cines for a wounded mind."

Then Hyacinthus: "Mighty chief, recall
Thy first successes, when Euboea's maids
Saw from her shores barbarian pendants lower'd
To thine, and grateful pluck'd the flow'rs of May
To dress in chaplets thy victorious deck.
Then, at thy gen'rous instigation fir'd,
The men of Oreus from their walls expell'd
Curst Demonax, their tyrant. On a day,
Ah! source of short delight, of lasting pain!
I from the labour of a tedious chase,
O'erspent by thirst and heat, a forest gain'd.
A rill, meandring to a green recess,

I track'd; my wonder saw a damsel there
In sumptuous vesture, couch'd on fragrant tufts
Of camomile, amid surrounding flow'rs
Reposing. Tall, erect, a figure stern

Was nigh; all sable on his head and brow,
Above his lip, and shadowing his cheeks

The hair was brisled; fierce, but frank, his eye

A grim fidelity reveal'd; his belt

Sustain'd a sabre; from a quiver full

On sight of me an arrow keen he drew,

A well-strung bow presented, my approach
Forbidding loudly. She, upstarting, wak'd.
My aspect, surely gentle when I first
Beheld Cleora, more of hope than fear
Inspir'd; she crav'd protection-What, ye Fates!
Was my protection-O superior man,
Can thy sublimity of soul endure

My tedious anguish !" Interposing mild
Th' Athenian here: "Take time, give sorrow vent,
My Hyacinthus, I forbid not tears."

He now pursues: "Her suppliant hands she rais'd,
To me astonish'd, hearing from her lips,
That Demonax was author of her days.
Amid the tumult his expulsion caus'd,
She, from a rural palace, where he stor'd
Well known to her a treasure, with a slave
In faith approv'd, with gold and gems of price
Escap'd. All night on fleetest steeds they rode,
Nor knew what hospitable roof to seek.

"My father's sister, Glaucé, close behind
This fane of Juno dwelt, her priestess pure,
My kindest parent. To her roof I brought-
O, Glauce, what-O dearest, most rever'd!
To thee I brought Cleora!" Horrour pale
Now blanch'd his visage, shook his loos'ning joints,
Congeal'd his tongue, and rais'd his rigid hair.
Th' Athenian, calm and silent, waits to hear
The reassum'd narration. "O ye flow'rs,
How were ye fragrant!" forth in transport wild
Bursts Hyacinthus: "O embow'ring woods,
How soft your shade's refreshment! Founts and rills
How sweet your cadence, while I won the hand
Of my Cleora to the nuptial tie,

By spotless vows before thy image bound,
O goddess hymeneal! O what hours
Of happiness untainted, dear espous'd,
Did we possess! kind Glaucé sinil'd on both.
The earliest birds of morning to her voice

Stir ev'ry sense. The dreadful tumult ends;
The headless trunk of Demonax in gore
He views in transport. Instantly his couch
Shoots forth in laurels, vaulting o'er his head;
The walls are hung with trophies. Juno comes,
No longer marble, but the queen of Heav'n,
Clad in resplendency divine. She leads
Cleora, now to perfect bloom restor'd,
Who, beck'ning, opens to th' enraptur'd eye
Of Hyacinthus, doating on the charm,
Her breast of snow; whence pure ambrosial milk
Allures an infant from an amber cloud,

Who stoops, and round her neck maternal clings.
He to embrace them striving, wak'd, and lost
Th' endearing picture of illusive air,
But wak'd compos'd. His mantle he assum'd,
To Juno's statue trod, and thus unlock'd
His pious breast: "O goddess! though thy smile,
Which I acknowledge for the hours of bliss
I once possess'd, a brief, exhausted term,
Could not protect me from malignant Fate,
Lo prostrate fall'n before thee, I complain
No more. My soul shall struggle with despair;
Nor shall the Furies drag me to the grave.
Thou punishment dost threaten to the crime,
Which bath defac'd my happiness on Earth;
Themistocles, my patron, is thy boon,
Who will fulfil thy menace. I believe,
There is a place hereafter to admit
Such purity as hers, whose blissful hand
Thou didst bestow-I lost-I know my days
With all their evils of duration short;

I am not conscious of a black misdeed,
Which should exclude me from the seat of rest,
And therefore wait in pious hope, that soon
Shall Hyacinthus find his wife and child,
With them to dwell for ever." He concludes,
Regains the chamber, and Aurora shines.

BOOK. XIII.

WHEN Hyacinthus first his couch forsook,
Themistocles in care had follow'd close,
But secretly had noted well the pray'r
To Juno sent, and part approving, part
Condemning, heard. Accoutr'd now in mail,
The young Carystian, to his list'ning friend,
Relates the wonders of his recent dream.

Th' Athenian, while most cordial in the care
Of Hyacinthus, whom his woes endear'd,
Still weigh'd his use. This answer he devis'd
To ease the grief he pitied, and preserve
The worth essential to his own designs.

"What thou hast told, Carystian, fires my breast;
It was a signal, by Saturnia held
To animate thy rage, and prompt thy arm
To action. She requires not, goddess wise,
Humiliation, scorns the sluggish mind,
Whose thoughts are creeping to Elysian rest.
They hush no throbs of anguish, while it rends
The mangled heartstrings, no not more than stanch
A bleeding wound, or quench a fever's flame.
We earn Elysium, and our evils here
Surmount, alike by action. Manly toil
Repels despair. Endurance of a storm,
Which rocks the vessel; marches long and swift;
A river pass'd, while enemies in front
By whirls of javelins chase the rapid ford;

A rampart scal'd; the forcing of a camp,
Are cures of sorrow. In her vision clear
So did Heav'n's empress intimate this morn.
Me too she visited in sleep; her voice
My waking thoughts confirm'd; Cleora lives;
Else why the goddess thus: Arise, O son
Of Neocles, of this afflicted youth
Be thou sure guide to rescue his espous'd;
The profanation of my rites chastise?""

The fiction wraps in credulous delight
The young Carystian's confidence, who feels
Circaan magic from his patron's eye,
His tongue, and gesture. He, quick-sighted, turns
To swift advantage his delusion thus:

"Come, let me try thy vigour; I am bound
To neighb'ring Styra; fly before thy friend;
Among that gen'rous people, who, their all,
Two gallies sent to Salamis, proclaim
Themistocles approaches." Like a dart,
Lanch'd from the sinews of a Parthian's arm,
Without reply th' inspir'd Carystian flew,
Cas'd as he was in steel. Meantime the chief
Salutes his Attic and Laconian bands;
His captivating presence both enjoy,
Which else no eye most piercing might discern,
Not ev'n the hundred never-sleeping lights,
Which on the margin of her parent flood
Incessant watch'd the progeny transform'd
Of Inachus, the Argive watry god;

Where undistinguish'd in the grazing herd
His daughter wept, nor he that daughter knew
A speechless suppliant. Recommenc'd, the march
Exhausts the day. Beneath a holy roof,
Which rose to Ceres, they their shelter'd limbs
To rest and food resign. There gently swell'd
Th' encircling ground, whence fair the morning
On little Styra, who, no queen superb [smil'd
Of wide dominion, like a rural nymph
In decency of garb, and native locks,
Her humble circuit not unlovely shows.
She from Athenian boundaries of old
Her first inhabitants deriv'd, and pours
Her sons now forth Themistocles to greet,
Their eldest parent's hero. Lampon bold
Accosts him "Me the weak, but willing hand
Of Styra late enabled to enrol

My name with thine, unconquerable son
Of Neocles. Though feeble is her sword,
Her sinews boast of Attic vigour still.
Oh! that her means were equal to her love,
A lib'ral welcome thou and these should find;
But you Geræstian oligarchy, foe
To equity and freedom, from our meads
Have newly swept our plenty." Ardent here,
Themistocles: "By Heav'n, my Styrian host,
Not thrice shall day illuminate your skies,
Ere double measure shall these petty lords
Repay to Styra. I am come to crush
Their usurpation, in Geræstus fix
Her ancient laws, and rouse her martial race
Against the Persian, and the Persian's friends.
Array thy force. To morrow's early Sun
Shall see us march, and ere his second noon
The bird of Athens shall her talons lift
Against the walls of these presumptuous thieves."
"They have no walls," Eudemus takes the word,
A righteous, brave Geræstian, exil'd late,
By hospitable Styra late receiv'd.
"A forest thick surrounds them, which affords
One scanty passage; but the axe and bill,