Complete Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  And now the Greeks, in able marches gain

  By Pallas fired, the Marathonian plain,

  Before their eyes th’ unbounded ocean rolls

  And all Darius’ fleet — unawed their souls,

  They fix their banners, and the tents they raise

  And in the sun, their polished javelins blaze,

  Their leaders self, within the brazen car

  Their motions orders, and prepares for war;

  Their labors o’er, the aged hero calls

  The Chiefs to council midst the canvas walls.

  And then the Sage, “How great the Persian host!

  But let them not their strength or numbers boast,

  Their slothful minds to love of fame unknown.

  Sigh not for war, but for the spoil alone,

  Strangers to honor’s pure immortal light.

  They not as heroes, but as women fight;

  Grovelling as proud, and cowardly as vain

  The Greeks they fear, their numbers they disdain;

  And now Athenians! fired by glory, rise

  And lift your fame unsullied to the skies,

  Your victim Persia, liberty your prize.

  And now twice twenty sable bullocks bring

  To heap the altars of the thundering King,

  Bid twelve white heifers of gigantic breed

  To Jove’s great daughter, wise Minerva bleed,

  And then in sleep employ the solemn night

  Nor till Apollo reigns, provoke the fight.”

  The hero said; the warlike council o’er

  They raise the lofty altars on the shore.

  They pile in heaps the pride of all the wood

  They fall the first, who first in beauty stood:

  The pine that soars to heaven, the sturdy oak,

  And cedars crackle at each hero’s stroke.

  And now two altars stand of equal size

  And lift their forms majestic to the skies.

  The heroes then twice twenty bullocks bring

  A worthy offering to the thundering King.

  The aged leader seized the sacred knife

  Blow followed blow, out gushed the quivering life

  Thro’ their black hides the ruthless steel is driven

  The victims groan — Jove thunders from his heaven.

  And then their bulks upon the pile they lay,

  The flames rush upward, and the armies pray.

  Driven by the wind, the roaring fires ascend

  And now they hiss in air, and now descend

  With all their sap, the new cut faggots raise

  Their flames to heaven, and crackle as they blaze;

  And then the Sage, “Oh, thou of powers above

  The first and mightiest, hear, eternal Jove!

  Give us, that Athens in her strength may rise

  And lift our fame and freedom to the skies!”

  This said, he ceased — th’ assembled warriors pour

  The sacred incense, and the God adore;

  Then partial Jove propitious heard their prayer

  Thrice shook the heavens, and thundered thro’ the air

  With joy, the Greeks, the favoring sign inspires

  And their breasts glow, with all the warlike fires:

  And now twelve heifers white as snow they lead

  To great Minerva’s sacred name to bleed.

  They fall — their bulks upon the pile are laid

  Sprinkled with oil, and quick in flame arrayed.

  And now descending midst the darkening skies

  Behold the Goddess of the radiant eyes.

  The ground she touched, beneath the mighty load

  Earth groaning rocks, and nature hails the God.

  Within her hand her father’s lightnings shone,

  And shield that blazes near th’ eternal throne;

  The Greeks with fear, her dauntless form surveyed

  And trembling, bowed before the blue eyed maid.

  Then favoring, thus began the power divine,

  While in her eyes celestial glorys shine;

  “Ye sons of Athens, loved by heaven,” she cries

  “Revered by men, be valiant and be wise,

  When morn awakes, Darius numbers dare

  Clang your loud arms, and rouse the swelling war:

  But first to yon proud fleet a herald send

  To bid the Persians yield, and fight suspend,

  For vainly to their God, they suppliant call,

  Jove favors Greece, and Pallas wills their fall.”

  She said, and thro’ the depths of air she flies

  Mounts the blue heaven, and scales the liquid skies

  The Greeks rejoicing thank the powers above

  And Jove’s great daughter, and eternal Jove.

  And now a herald to the fleet they send

  To bid the Persians yield, and war suspend.

  Thro’ the divided troops the herald goes

  Thro’ Athens host, and thro’ th’ unnumbered foes,

  Before the holy man, the Persian bands

  Reverend give way, and ask what Greece demands:

  He tells not all, but that he, chosen, seeks

  Datis their Chief, by order of the Greeks.

  The mission but in part, he, sage reveals

  And what his prudence prompts him, he conceals.

  Then to their Chief they lead him, where he sat

  With pomp surrounded, and in gorgeous state,

  Around his kingly couch, his arms were spread

  Flaming in gold, by forge Cyclopean made;

  And then stern Datis, frowning thus began,

  “What hopes deceive thee, miserable man?

  What treacherous fate allures thee thus to stray

  Thro’ all our hosts? what Gods beguile the way?

  Think’st thou to ‘scape the Persian steel, when Greece

  Our herald crushed, and banished hopes of peace?

  But speak, what will the Greeks? and do they dare

  To prove our might, and tempt th’ unequal war?

  Or do they deign to own Darius’ sway

  And yield to Persia’s might, th’ embattled day?”

  To whom th’ Athenian herald made reply

  “The Greeks disdain your terms, and scorn to fly,

  Unknown to heroes, and to sons of Greece

  The shameful slavery of a Persian peace;

  Defiance stern, not servile gifts I bring,

  Your bonds detested, and despised your King;

  Of equal size, the Greeks two altars raise

  To Jove’s high glory, and Minerva’s praise,

  The God propitious heard, and from the skies

  Descends the Goddess of the azure eyes,

  And thus began — Assembled Greeks give ear

  Attend my wisdom, nor my glory fear;

  When morn awakes, Darius numbers dare

  Clang your loud arms, and rouse the swelling war,

  But first to yon proud fleet a herald send

  To bid the Persians yield, and war suspend

  For vainly to their God, they suppliant call

  Jove favors Greece, and Pallas wills their fall.”

  The Goddess spoke th’ Athenians own her sway

  I seek the fleet, and heaven’s command obey.

  The Greeks disdain your millions in the war

  Nor I, oh Chief, your promised vengeance fear

  Strike! but remember that the God on high

  Who rules the heavens, and thunders thro’ the sky

  Not unrevenged will see his herald slain

  Nor shall thy threats his anger tempt in vain.”

  And thus the Greek, then Datis thus replies

  Flames black and fearful scowling from his eyes,

  “Herald away! and Asia’s vengeance fear

  Back to your phrenzied train my mandate bear,

  That Greece and Grecian Gods may threat in vain,

  We scorn their anger, and their wrath disdain:<
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  For he who lights the earth and rules the skies

  With happy omens to our vows replies.

  When morn uprising, breathes her saffron light

  Prepare to dare our millions in the fight.

  Thy life I give, Darius’ will to say

  And Asia’s hate — hence Chief, no more, away!”

  He said, and anger filled the Grecian’s breast

  But prudent, he the rising wrath suppressed;

  Indignant, thro’ the canvas tents he strode

  And silently invoked the thundering God.

  Fears for his country in his bosom rose.

  As on he wandered midst unnumbered foes;

  He strikes his swelling breast and hastens on

  O’er the wide plains of barren Marathon.

  And now he sees the Grecian banners rise

  And well armed warriors blaze before his eyes,

  Then thus he spoke— “Ye Grecian bands give ear.

  Ye warrior Chiefs, and Attic heroes hear!

  Your will to Asia’s other Prince I told

  All which you bade me. Chieftains to unfold.

  But Pallas’ vengeance I denounced in vain,

  Your threats he scorned, and heard with proud disdain,

  The God, he boasts, who lights the earth and skies

  With happy omens to his vows replies;

  Then when the uprising morn extends her light

  Prepare, ye Greeks, to dare his powers in fight.”

  He said — the Greeks for instant strife declare

  Their will, and arm impatient for the war.

  Then he their godlike Chief, as Pallas sage,

  “Obey my counsels, and repress your rage,

  Ye Greeks,” he cried, “the sacred night displays

  Her shadowy veil, and earth in gloom arrays;

  Her sable shades, e’en Persia’s Chiefs obey

  And wait the golden mandate of the day:

  Such is the will of Jove, and Gods above,

  And such the order of the loved of Jove.”

  He said — the Greeks their leaders word obey,

  They seek their tents, and wait th’ approaching day,

  O’er either host celestial Somnus reigns,

  And solemn silence lulls th’ embattled plains.

  BATTLE OF MARATHON: BOOK IV.

  AND now the morn by Jove to mortals given,

  With rosy fingers opes the gates of heaven,

  The Persian Princes and their haughty Lord,

  Gird on their arms, and seize the flaming sword:

  Forth, forth they rush to tempt the battle’s roar,

  Earth groans, and shouts rebellowing, shake the shore

  As when the storm the heavenly azure shrouds,

  With sable night, and heaps on clouds, the clouds.

  The Persians rose, and croud th’ embattl’d plain

  And stretch their warlike millions to the main;

  And now th’ Athenians throng the fatal field

  By fame inspired, and swords and bucklers wield;

  In air sublime their floating banners rise,

  The lances blaze; the trumpets rend the skies.

  And then Miltiades— “Athenians, hear,

  Behold the Persians, on the field appear

  Dreadful in arms, remember Greeks your fame,

  Rush to the war, and vindicate your name;

  Forward! till low in death the Persians lie,

  For freedom triumph or for freedom die.”

  He said, his visage glows with heavenly light;

  He spoke sublime, and rush’d into the fight.

  And now the fury of the war began —

  Lance combats lance, and man’s opposed to man,

  Beneath their footsteps, groans the laboring plain

  And shouts re-echoing bellow to the main.

  Mars rages fierce, by heroes, heroes die,

  Earth rocks, Jove thunders, and the wounded cry.

  What mighty Chiefs by Aristides fell,

  What heroes perished, heavenly Goddess tell.

  First thou, oh Feleus, felt his conquering hand,

  Stretched in the dust and weltering in the sand.

  Thro’ thy bright shield the forceful weapon went,

  Thy self in arms o’erthrown, thy corslet rent;

  Next rash Antennes met an early fate,

  And feared, alas! th’ unequal foe too late.

  And Delucus the sage, and Philo fell,

  And Crotan sought the dreary gates of hell,

  And Mnemons self with wealth and honor crowned,

  Igvered for virtue, and for fame renowned.

  He, great in battle, feared the hero’s hand,

  Groaning lie fell, and spurned the reeking sand:

  But what bold chief thus rashly dares advance,

  Tho’ not in youth, he shakes the dreadful lance.

  Proudly, the earth the haughty warrior trod

  He looked a Monarch and he moved a God:

  Then on the Greek, with rage intrepid flew

  And with one blow th’ unwary Greek o’erthrew;

  That hour, oh Chief, and that eventful day

  Had bade thee pass a shivering ghost away.

  But Pallas, fearful for her fav’rite’s life.

  Sudden upraised thee to renew the strife;

  Then Aristides with fresh vigour rose.

  Shame fired his breast, his soul with anger slows,

  With all his force he rushes on the foe,

  The warrior bending disappoints the blow,

  And thus with rage contemptuous, “Chieftain know

  Hippias the loved of heaven, thine eyes behold.

  Renowned for strength of arm, in battle bold,

  But tell thy race, and who the man whose might

  Dares cope with rebel Athens’ King in fight;”

  Stung to the soul, “Oh Slave, the Greek returns,

  While his big heart, within his bosom burns.

  Perfidious Prince, to faith and truth unknown;

  On Athens’ ashes, raise thy tyrant throne,

  When Grecia’s chiefs, and Grecia’s heroes fall,

  When Persia’s fires, invest her lofty wall,

  When nought but slaves, within her towers remain,

  Then, nor till then, shalt thou, oh Hippias, reign,

  Then, nor till then, will Athens yield her fame

  To foul dishonor, and eternal shame;

  Come on! no matter what my race or name;

  For this, oh Prince, this truth unerring know

  That in a Greek, you meet a noble foe.”

  Furious he said, and on the Prince he sprung

  With all his force; the meeting armour rung.

  Struggling they raged, and both together fell,

  That hour the tyrant’s ghost had entered hell.

  But partial fate prolonged the Prince’s breath.

  Renewed the combat, and forbad the death.

  Meanwhile the hosts, the present war suspend.

  Silent they stand, and heaven’s decree attend.

  First the bright lance majestic Hippias threw

  But erringly the missile weapon flew;

  Then Aristides hurled the thirsty dart

  Struck the round shield, and nearly pierced his heart.

  But the bright arms, that shone with conscious pride.

  Received the blow, and turned the point aside.

  And thus, the Greek, “Whom your enquiring eyes

  Behold, oh Prince,” th’ Athenian hero cries.

  “Is Aristides, called the just, a name

  By Athens honored, nor unknown to fame.”

  Scared at the sound, and seized by sudden fright,

  The Prince starts back, in mean, inglorious flight.

  And now Bellona rages o’er the field

  All strive elated, all disdain to yield;

  And great Themistocles in arms renowned.

  Stretched heaps of heroes on the groaning ground
;

  First by his hand, fell Delos self, divine

  The last loved offspring of a noble line.

  Straight thro’ his neck the reeking dart was driven,

  Prostrate he sinks, and vainly calls on heaven.

  Next godlike Phanes, midst the Persians just,

  Leucon and mighty Caudos bit the dust;

  And now the Greek, with pride imprudent, dares

  Victorious Mandrocles renowned in wars.

  The agile Persian swift avoids the blow

  Furious disarms and grasps th’ unequal foe!

  Th’ intrepid Greek, with godlike calm awaits

  His instant fall, and dares th’ impending fates,

  But great Cynoegirus his danger spies

  And lashed his steeds, the ponderous chariot flies,

  Then from its brazen bulk, he leaps to ground

  Beneath his clanging arms, the plains resound.

  And on the Persian rushes fierce, and raised

  The clattering axe on high, which threatening blazed,

  And lopped his head; out spouts the smoking gore

  And the huge trunk, rolled bleeding on the shore.

  And then Cynoegirus, “Thus Persian go

  And boast thy victory in the shades below,

  A headless form, and tell who bade thee bleed,

  For know a Greek performed the wonderous deed:

  But thou, Themistocles, oh hero! say

  Who bade thee rush, to tempt the unequal fray?

  But learn from this, thy daring to restrain,

  And seek less mighty foes upon the plain.”

  With secret wrath, the youthful hero burned

  And thus impetuous to the Chief returned;

  “Such thoughts as these, unworthy those who dare

  The battle’s rage, and tempt the toils of war;

  Heedless of death, and by no fears opprest.

  Conquest my aim, I leave to heaven the rest.”

  He said, and glowed with an immortal light.

  Plunged ‘midst the foes, and mingled in the fight.

  Zeno the bravest of the Persian youth

  Renowned for filial piety and truth;

  His mother’s only joy; she loved to trace

  His father’s features in his youthful face;

  That Sire in fight o’erwhelmed, mid seas of gore

  Slept unentombed, and cared for fame no more.

  And now as youth in opening manhood glows

  All his loved father in his visage rose,

  Like him, regardful of his future fame

  Resolved like him, to immortalize his name,

  At glory’s call, he quits his native shore

  And feeble parent, to return no more;

  Oh! what prophetic griefs her bosom wrung

  When on his neck in agony she hung!

  When on that breast, she hid her sorrowing face,