Classic Poem

Laodamia

The midnight centinel has hail'd the moon,
Whose silent radiance gilds the dusky air;
Again the favouring Muse I importune,
And wander forth her converse mild to share.

In yonder grove the Goddess first appear'd,
As gathering violets I beside it stray'd:
There first the lyre's harmonious swell I heard,
I turn'd astonish'd, and beheld the maid.

Fancy with flowers had wreath'd her waving hair;
Her mantling cheek with rich expression glow'd;
Sportive as youthful Hebe's was her air;
Her sparkling eyes her birth caelestial shew'd.

I gaz'd, I worship'd, she benignly smil'd.
" Fear not, " she said, and dried the starting tear,
" The Muse hath list'ned to thy numbers wild,
" And oft at evening shall await thee here. "

Bless'd assignation! frequenThere I'll stray,
Oh night! to lonely musing sacred still,
When leafy boughs embrown the lunar ray,
And the faint breeze sighs to the murmuring rill.

This is the hour, when superstition reigns,
When shrouded spectres through the church-yard roam,
When sportive says mislead benighted swains,
And prowling witchcraft leaves its dreary home.

The prisoner now, in rapturous slumber bless'd,
Enjoys his liberty, and scorns his foes;
While honest Industry, by toil oppress'd,
Tastes the reviving cordial of repose.

Now patient woe, whose meek dejected breast
Hides from the scoffing world its secret pain,
Indulges sorrow in an ample feast,
'Till weary Nature can no more sustain.

So mourn'd of old the fair Thessalian queen,
Connubial martyr to the adulterous wars;
So oft the mourner on her couch was seen,
Her streaming eyes fix'd on the radiant stars.

Alas! what anguish tore her faithful heart
As her soul struggled in a last adieu!
WhilsTher lov'd Lord, by fate compell'd to part,
On ful-orb'd glory fix'd his ardent view.

Love wak'd her fears, and while the Grecian train
In the wide arms of rocky Aulis lay,
She urg'd opposing oracles in vain:
The chief still panted for the martial fray.

The sails expand, behold the mourner now
Sink in th' embraces of supporting friends,
Whilst the griev'd monarch, from the ships tall prow,
To pitying Juno his belov'd commends.

In vain her handmaids, with consoling care,
Exclaim " thy hero shall return with joy;
" Haste, weave the purple robe; the crown prepare;
" Leave sorrow to the widow'd dames of Troy. "

The pride of birth, the pomp of courts, is vain:
She sits, a monument of silent woe:
And now she fears the terrors of the main,
Now the close ambush of the wily foe.

Meantime the husband, sedulous for fame,
First draws his beaked vessels to the strand.
See him with Phrygia's chief the combat claim,
And fall the earliest victim to his hand.

Even as his foot first press'd the hostile soil,
Tremendous Hector rais'd his mortal spear,
" Thus, proud Thessalian, terminates thy toil,
" Com'st thou from Greece to feed our vultures here? "

Now reign'd dull midnight: and in short repose
The sorrowing queen essay'd to banish care,
Yet ev'n in slumber imag'd Phrygian soes,
And vow'd to Juno, sacrifice and prayer,

When lo! the king his shadowy form uprear'd;
His deep wound heal'd, his garments clean'd from gore,
Beauty and sweetness in his look appear'd,
As when he first the nuptial chaplet wore.

" Come, lovely mourner, ever faithful bride,
" Vain was thy parting charge, thy tender fear:
" Thy prayers, thy offerings, fate's award deny'd:
" My victim life was given to Hector's spear.

" Come partner of my soul; my spirit roves
" Restless, unhappy, whilst depriv'd of thee.
" Together will we seek the myrtle groves,
" The seat of lovers faithful once as we. "

" I come, my lord, " the starting matron cried,
" In spight of Hector now for ever bless'd. "
Then as the phantom sled, she groan'd and died,
Her pale cheek drooping on her snowy breast.