Classic Poem

Canto the Second

Leaving Pharonnida to entertain
The various passions of her father, we
Must now return to see Argalia gain
That power by which he sets his father free.

From the command of haughty rebels, who
By justice sent to a deserved death,
Argalia takes the crown, his merits' due,
And the old prince in peace resigns his breath.

Returned to see what all the dark records
Of the old Spartan history affords
I' the progress of Argalia's fate, I found
The chained historian here so strictly bound
To follow truth, although at danger's cost,
No silent night, nor smoaky battle lost
The doubtful road; which often did appear
Through floods of faction filled with storms of fear,
Obscure and dark to the belief of that
Less guilty age; though then to tremble at
Rome's bold ambition, and those prodigies
Of earth, their tyrants, to inform their eyes,
Left mourning monuments of ill, but none
Like what they now attempt, a sin unknown
To old aspirers, which should have been sent
Some ages forward for a precedent
To these, with whom compared, their crimes had been,
Though past to act, but weak essays of sin.
With such a speed as the supplies of air,
Fearing a vacuum, hasten to repair
The ruptures of the earth, at our last view
We left revived Argalia posting to
Ætolia's distant confines; where arrived,
He found their army, whose attempts had thrived,
Since he Epirus had forsook, so far
Advanced, that now the varied scene of war,
Transferred to faithless Ardenna, was there
Fixed in a siege, whose slow approaches were
The doubts of both. The city pines for fear
Remote supplies might fail, which drawn so near,
The circling army knows, that either they
Must fly from conquest near obtained, or stay
To meet a danger, which by judgment scanned,
Their strength appears unable to withstand.
Whilst thus their pensive leaders busied are
In cross dilemmas, as by public war
He meant to meet revenge in private, to
Their camp Argalia comes; a camp which knew
Him by the fair wrought characters of fame
So well, that now he needs no more than name
Himself to merit welcome, all mistrust
Being cleared by them which left, as too unjust
To be obeyed, the false Epirot's side,
When by his loss made subject to the pride
Of stranger chiefs; these for their virtue praised,
For number feared, to such a height had raised
Applauding truths of him, that Zarrobrin,
Conjoined to one he trembled at whilst seen
In opposition, slights what did of late
Appear a dreadful precipice of fate.
Least poor employments might make favor show
Like faint mistrust, he doth at first bestow
On the brave stranger the supreme command
Of some choice horse, selected to withstand
The fierce Epirot's march; whose army, ere
The slow Ætolians could their strength prepare
Fit to resist, if not by him withstood,
With ease had gained a dangerous neighbourhood.
But he, whose anger's thunderbolts could stay,
Though hurled from clouds of rage, if the allay
Of judgment interposed, here finding nought
More safe than haste, ere his secure foes thought
Of opposition, strongly had possessed
A strait in which small troops had oft distressed
Large bodied armies, until brought so low,
Those they contemned did liberty bestow.
Whilst stopped by this unlooked-for remora,
The baffled army oft had strove to draw
Argalia from his safe retreats, but found
His art of more advantage than his ground;
In the dead age of unsuccessful night
A forward party, which had learned to fight
From honor's dictates, not commands, being by
Youth's hasty guide, rash valour, brought so nigh
Argalia's troops, that in a storm which cost
Some lives, they many noble captives lost:
Amongst which number, as if thither sent
By such a fate as showed Heaven's close intent
Pointed at good, Euriolus appears
First a sad captive; but those common fears
Soon, whilst in conflict with his passions, rest
On the wished object of his long inquest —
Admired Argalia, to whose joy he brings
As much of honor, as elected kings
Meet in those votes, which so auspicious prove,
They light to honor with the rays of love.
Having from him in full relation heard
Pharonnida yet lived, whom long he feared
Beyond redemption lost, they thence proceed
To counsels, whose mature results might breed
Their heedless foes confusion; which, since they
That now were captives bore the greatest sway
In the opposing army, proves a task
So free from danger, death did scarce unmask
The face of horror in a charge, before
Argalia's name, echoed in praises o'er
The rallied troops, summons from thence so large
A party, that the valour of a charge
In those that stood were madness, which to shun,
Base cowards taught brave fighters how to run.
This easy conquest gained, ere Zarrobrin
Was with his slower army drawn within
The noise o' the battle, to such vast extent
Of fame, high virtue's spreading ornament,
Had raised Argalia's merits, that the pride
Of his commander wisely laid aside
For such advantage, to let honor stand
On her own basis, the supreme command
Of all the strangers in his camp to him
He freely gives; a power which soon would dim
His, if ere by some harsh distemper placed
In opposition, but his thoughts embraced
In all suspicion's darkest cells no fiend
So pale as fear; fixed on the sudden end
Of high designs, he looks on this success
As the straight road to future happiness.
With such a speed as prosperous victors go
To see and conquer, when the vanquished foe
Retreats from honor, the Ætolian had
Followed success, till that fair hand unclad
The sunk Epirot of his strength; and now,
Secured from foreign ills, was studying how
To cure domestic dangers: which since he
The weak foundation of his tyranny
Had fixed in sand but only cemented
With loyal blood, such just contempt had bred
In the age's deep discerning judgments, that
The unsettled herd, ere scarcely lightened at
Those sober flames, like ill-mixed vapors break
In blustering murmurs forth; which, though too weak
To force his fortune on the rocks of hate,
With terror shook the structure of his fate.
Like wise physicians, which, when called to cure
Infectious ills, with antidotes make sure
Themselves from danger; since hypocrisy
Could steal no entrance to affection, he
Leads part of's army for his guard, that they,
Where mines did fail, by storm might force a way.
But since he doubts constrained domestics, though
Abroad obedient might, when come to know
From burthened friends their cause of grief, forsake
Unjust commands, his wiser care did take
Argalia and his stranger troops, as those
Which, unconcerned, he freely might dispose
To wind up all the engines of his brain,
So guilt were gilded with the hopes of gain.
By hasty marches being arrived with these
Within Ætolia, where his frowns appease
Those bubbles that, their Neptune absent, would
Have swelled to waves; ere his hot spirits cooled
Were with relaxing rest, he visits him,
The weak reflex of whose light crown looks dim
T' the burnished splendor of his blade, that set
Him only there to be the cabinet
Of that usurped diadem; which he,
Whose subtle arts in clouded brows could see
The heart's intended storms, beheld without
His unstrained reach, until the people's doubt,
Which yet lived in the dawn of hope, he saw
O'ershadowed with the forms of injured law.
Though time, that fatal enemy to truth,
Had not alone robbed the fresh thoughts of youth
O' the knowledge of their long lost prince, but been,
Even unto those that had adored him in
His throne, oblivion's handmaid; yet left by
Some power occult, that in captivity
Forsakes not injured monarchs, there remained
In most some passions, which first entertained
At pity's cost, at length by reason tried
Grew so much loved, that only power denied
Them to support his sinking cause. Which seen
By Zarrobrin, whose tyranny had been
At first their fear, and now their hate, he brings.
His army, an elixir, which to kings
Transforms plebeians, by the strength of that
To bind those hands that else had struggled at
Their head's offence; which wanting power to cure,
They now with grief's convulsions must endure.
A court convened of such whose killing trade
The rigid law so flexible had made,
That their keen votes had forced the bloodiest field
To the deep tincture of the scaffold yield;
Forth of his uncouth prison summoned by
The rude commands of wronged authority,
An object which succeeding ages, when
But spoke of, weep, because they blushed not then,
The prince appears — a guarded captive in
That city where his morning star had been
Beheld in honor's zenith; slowly by
Inferior slaves, which ne'er on majesty,
Whilst uneclipsed, durst look, being led to prove
Who blushed with anger, or looked pale with love.
By these being to a mock tribunal brought,
Where damned rebellion for disguise had sought
The veil of justice, but so thinly spread,
Each stroke, their envy levelled at his head,
Betrayed black treason's hand, couched in that vote
Which struck with law to cut Religion's throat.
From a poor pleader, whose cheap conscience had
Been sold for bribes, long ere the purple clad
So base a thing, their calm-souled sovereign hears
Death's fatal doom; which, when pronounced, appears
His candor, and their guilt: the one exprest
By a reception, which declared his breast
Ustirred with passion; the other struggling in
Their troubled looks, which showed this monstrous sin,
That this damned plot did to rebellion bear,
Even frighted those that treason's midwives were.
Hence, all their black designs encouraged by
The levelled paths of prosperous villany,
High-mounted mischief, stretched upon the wing
Of powerful ill, pursues the helpless king
To the last stage of life, a scaffold; whence,
With tears, cheap offsprings to his innocence,
Such of his pitying friends as durst disclose
Their passions, view him; whilst insulting foes,
Exalted on the pyramids of pride
By long-winged power, with base contempt deride
Their sorrow, and his sufferings whom they hate,
Had followed near the period of his fate;
Which being now so near arrived, that all
With various passion did expect the fall
Of the last fatal stroke, kind Heaven, to save
A life so near the confines of the grave,
Transcends dull hope by so sublime a flight,
That dazzled faith, amazed with too much light,
Whilst ecstasies of wonder did destroy
Unripe belief, near lost the road of joy.
Even with the juncture of that minute when
The axe was falling, from those throngs of men
Swayed by's command, Argalia, with a speed
That startled action, mounts the stage, and freed
The trembling prince from death's pale fear; which done,
To show on what just grounds he had begun
So brave, so bold an act, he seizes all
That knowledge or suspicion dares to call
The tyrant's friends. The guilty tyrant, who,
Whilst he doth from his distant palace view
This dreadful change, with a disdain as high
As are his crimes, being apprehended by
Argalia's nimble guards, is forced to be
Their sad conductor to a destiny
So full of horror, that it hardly lies
In's foes to save him for a sacrifice
From their wild rage, who know no justice but
What doth by death a stop to fury put.
From noiseless prayers and bloodless looks being by
The bold attempters of his liberty
Raised to behold his rescue; heedless fear,
Hatched by mistake, from those that bordered near,
Had with such swiftness its infection spread,
That the more distant, knowing not what bred
The busy tumult, in so wild a haste,
As vanquished troops which at the heels are chased
Fly the pursuing sword, they madly run
To meet those dangers which they strove to shun:
In which confusion none o' the throng had been
Left to behold how justice triumphed in
Revenge's throne, had not a swift command,
By power enabled, hastened to withstand
That troubled torrent which the truth outgrew,
Until their fears' original they knew.
The onset past, Argalia, having first
Secured the tyrant, for whose blood the thirst
Of the vexed people raged, he mounted on
That scaffold whence his father should have gone
A royal martyr to the grave, did there
By a commanded silence first prepare
The clamorous throng to hear the hidden cause
Which made him slight their new-created laws.
Then, in that mart of satisfaction which
With knowledge doth the doubtful herd enrich,
The public view, he freely shows how far
Through Fortune's deserts the auspicious star
Of Heaven's unfathomed providence had led
Him — from the axe to save that sacred head;
Whose reverend snow his full discovery had
In the first dress of youthful vigor clad,
Could constant nature sympathize with that
Reviving joy his spirits panted at.
His son's relation, seconded by all
That suffering sharer in his pitied fall,
Mantinea's bishop, knew, joined to the sight
Of that known jewel, whose unwasted light
Had served alone to guide them, satisfies
The inquisition e'en of critic eyes
With such a fulness of content, that they,
Each from his prince being lightenened with a ray
Of sprightly mirth, endeavoured to destroy
Their former grief in hope of future joy:
Which to attain to, those whose counsels had
The land in blood, and then in mourning clad,
Called forth by order to confession, there
Are scarce given time the foulness to declare
Of their past crimes, before the people's hate,
That head-strong monster, strove to anticipate
The sword of vengeance, and in wild rage save
The labor of an ignominious grave
To every parcel of those rent limbs that,
When but beheld, they lately trembled at.
" Such being the fate of falling tyrants, when
" Conquering — the fear, conquered — the scorn of men.
But here least inconsiderate rage should send
Their souls to darkness, ere confession end
Their tragic story, hated Zarrobrin,
With that unhappy boy whose crown had been
Worn but to make him capable to die
A sacrifice to injured liberty,
Rescued by order from the rout, is to
A public trial brought; where, in the view
Of all the injured multitude, the old
Audacious traitor did t' the light unfold
His acts of darkness, which discovered him
They gazed on, whilst unquestioned power did dim
Discerning wits, but a dull meteor — one
By hot ambition mounted to a throne,
By an attractive policy, which when
Its influence failed, back to that lazy fen,
His fortune's centre, hurling him again,
The only star in honor's orb would reign.
This sly impostor, seconded by that
Rebellious guilt his actions offered at
In all its bold attempts, had kindled in
The late supporters of unprosperous sin
So high a rage, that in wild fury they,
Their anger wanting what it should obey —
A sober judgment, stand not to dispute
With the slow law, but with their strength confute
All tending to delay; like torrents broke
Through the imprisoning banks, to get one stroke
At heads so hated, all rush in, until
Their severed limbs want quantity to fill
A room in the eyes' receiving beams. This done,
With blood and anger warmed, they wildly run
To search out such whom consanguinity
Had rendered so unhappy, as to be
Allied to them: all which, with rage that styled
Beasts merciful, and angry soldiers mild,
They to destruction chase; whilst guiltless walls,
In which they dwelt, in funeral blazes falls;
Where burns inviting treasure, as they saw
In the gold's splendor an anathema
So full of horror, as it seemed to be
A plague beyond unpitied poverty.
Impetuous rage, like whirlwinds unopposed,
Hushed to a calm, as hate had but unclosed
The anger-blinded eyes of love, the bold
Flame, like a fire forced from repulsive cold,
Breaks through the harsh extreme of hate, to show
How much their loyal duty did outgrow
Those fruits of forced obedience, which before
They slowly to intruding tyrants bore.
In which profession of their joy, that he
Might meet their hopes with a solemnity
Large as their love, or his delight, the prince,
Taught by informing age how to convince
Ambition's hasty arguments, calls forth
His long-lost son, whose late discovered worth
Was grown the age's wonder, to support
The ponderous crown, whilst he did tread the short
And sickly step of age, untroubled by
The burthen of afflicting majesty.
His coronation passed, in such a tide
Of full content, as to be glorified
Blest souls in the world's conflagration shall
From tombs their reunited bodies call,
The feeble prince, leaving the joyful throng
Of his applauding subjects, seeks among
Religious shades, those cool retreats, to find
That best composer of a stormy mind —
A still devotion; on whose downy bed
Not long he'd laid, before that entrance led
Him to the court of Heaven, though through the gate
Of welcome death, a cross, which though from fate,
Not accident, he being instructed by
Age and religion to prepare to die
On Nature's summons, yet so deep a strain
Spreads o'er those robes that joy had died in grain,
That his heroic son, to meet alone
So fierce a foe, leaving the widowed throne,
Retreats to silent tears; whose plenteous spring,
By the example of their mourning king,
From those small clouds there first beheld to rise,
Begets a storm in every subject's eyes.
Betraying time, the world's unquestioned thief,
Intending o'er obliterated grief
Some new transcription, to perform it brings
A ravished quill from love's expanded wings,
Presenting to Argalia's willing view
Whate'er blind chance rolled on the various clew
Of his fair mistress' fate, unfolded by
Euriolus; who was, when victory
First gave him freedom, by Argalia sent
With speed that might anticipate intent,
The unconfined Pharonnida to free
From her religious strict captivity.
But being arrived where, contrary to all
His thoughts, he heard how first she came to fall
Into Almanzor's hand, by whom conveyed
Thence to her father's court, his judgment staid
Not to consult with slow advice, but hastes
On the pursuit of her; whom found, he wastes
Few days before fair opportunity
Was so auspicious to his prayers, that he
Not only proves a happy messenger
Where first employed, but in exchange for her
Returns the story of what had been done
Since first this tempest of their fate begun. —
How she forsook the monastry, and in
What agonies of passion thence had been
Forced to her father's court, where all her fears
Dissolve in pity, he related hears
With calm attention; but when come to that,
Whose first conceptions he had trembled at,
The Syracusan's fresh assaults unto
That virgin fort, whose strength although he knew
Too great for storm, yet since assisted by
Her father's power, the wreaths of victory,
Rent by command from his deserts, might crown
Another's brows. To pull those laurels down,
Ere raised in triumph, he prepares to move
By royal steps unto the throne of love.