As dead inglorious, or cast out unurned :
For the fond-pitying Nymphs below,
Will cover him with golden sand,

And sing above him songs of woe,

Sweeter than we can understand;

The grace of song shall breathe upon his name,

And his Elysian bliss be endless as his fame."

There was a moment's pause, and then, methought,
The exuberant shout, that to the warriors' strain
Had made tumultuous prelude, came again,

But with still loftier passion; to the cause
I gave a quick attention, and beheld
Above the low Magnesian promontory,
A small and solitary flaccid cloud
Lowly suspended, by the clear round sun

*

(Which seemed to halt behind it as he rose) Gorgeously glorified; to this all eyes

Were turned, and every voice a homage paid:
"The Fleece, the Golden Fleece, our Golden Fleece,"
Rose in a storm of sound, and instantly,

Though with no visible wind or ruffled tide,
But as impregnate with propelling power,
The Shape, no more dependent on the sand,
Into the open waters past, serene.

*The sun itself was supposed to have its bed in Colchis. Mimnermus apud Athen.

Then as the Vision fainted, self-dispersed
In the full-flaring light, a melody,
Whose sense I could not justly apprehend,
But that it was of blessing and delight,
Emitted from the oracular central tree,
Caught up my heart, and bore it swift along
With that strange shape, into mysterious depths
Of placid darkness and undreaming sleep.

THE SPARTANS AT THERMOPYLÆ.

If the victory of Marathon was an Homeric rhapsody, the victory of Thermopyla was an Eschylean tragedy, and my wish on the spot was, that here too, as well as at Salamis, the shame of the Persians had found such an artist to record it,I regretted that there had been no Lacedemonian to frame in words the poetry his countrymen had acted. The scenes of the eventful drama unfolded themselves before me, one by one; on the wings of Fate and Duty it ever rested, and by their harmonious action moved onward to the end;-there was the utterance of the oracle, decreeing that Sparta or her king must fall, and the triumphant obedience of Leonidas; from that moment he was, to all base and earthly purposes, no living man; he bade his wife "marry some other virtuous man, and bring up children in honour ;" and he and they who associated themselves eagerly in his sacrifice celebrated their own funeral games with sumptuous pride; there was the humiliation of number and force before moral greatness, in the wondering

terror of the herald who gazed on the handful of Spartans, calmly combing their long hair and engaged in sportful exercises, in the very face of the army of nations; there was the free dismissal, as it were, on the steps of the altar, of all who did not feel themselves bound by a law in their hearts, to remain and die; there was the last onset, the last leonine bound of those who might certainly have resisted longer and perhaps might have made more havoc among the enemy by remaining within the narrowest part of the pass, and fighting for every inch of ground, but this very act of waiting and resisting would have had something in it discordant with the perfect free-will of the whole action,-they went to meet fate to the very last; they went out, "as making a sortie for the purpose of death;" and, to consummate the immolation, when the few, who still struggled to preserve the venerated form of what was their King from the sacrilege of vile and hostile bands, were crushed back into the close strait of their own encampment, there was the solemn resting, the "sitting down" of this scanty band on the rising ground, waiting, in the strength of their weakness, till that tale of divine humanity should be altogether finished. And just as simply majestic were the monuments erected above them,-as pure and sacred the epitaphs ;-they had done what they ought to do, they had obeyed, -that was all.

"Stranger! go tell the Spartans-we obeyed

All that they told us,*

and below are laid."

Their laws and customs. †

No parleying with themselves, no pausing thought
Of worse or better consequence, was there,
Their business was to do what Spartans ought,
Sparta's chaste honour was their only care.

* According to Herodotus.

E

† According to Strabo.

First in the outlet of that narrowest pass,

Between the tall straight cliffs and sullen tide, Before his Faithful, stood Leonidas,—

Before the Few who could not leave his side.

Never the hope of such a precious meed

Upon his most ambitious dreams had shone, Through Him the Gods for Sparta had decreed More fame than Athens earned at Marathon.

And more than this, he knew in that proud hour, How high a price his single Life could claim, Than in its sacrifice there lay the power,

Alone to save his father-land from shame,

Yet was he loth to meet that sacred fate,

As he there stood, cramped in by rocks and sea, He would confront the Persian myriad's weight, And die an unbound Victim, fighting free.

One more fair field,—one last unshackled blow Strong with concentrate vengeance, this was all That still remained to fill to overflow

The measure of the glory of his fall.

How He, and They who followed him in love,
Went forth and perished, is a tale to tell,
Such as old Bards to Epic music wove,

And so felt he who wrote their Chronicle.

*

The symbol Lion, that once stood in stone
Over the Lion-hearted, is no more;
Where sat the Last, on their sepulchral throne,
Is now a thing of antiquarian lore.

Nor mourn for this,-all other truth is vain,
But this, to know at heart, that They are there,
There in the giant cliffs, and perilous plain,
Paths, fountains, forest, ocean, every where.

Now let all Thought be Memory,-calmly wait,
Till clear defined, before thy Spirit's eyes,
Heroic Dignity, impersonate

In awful phantoms, silently arise.

Between the Men who noble deeds have done,
And every Poet to the end of time,

There is a brotherly communion,

One Father-God has made them both sublime :

And thus, to Thee, there can be nothing dead
Of great things past, they live in thine own will,
Thou givest them form,—they, on thy favoured head,
Virtues of earth and Heavenly Love distil.