Classic Poem

Canto the Third

Through the dark terrors of a dreadful night,
The prince to 's daughter comes with flying speed;
From dangers, great as those he feared in flight,
Is by Argalia's forward valour freed.

Who having with successful fortune gave
His master freedom, their joint strength pursue
Their flying foes unto an uncouth cave,
In whose vast womb Fate's dark decrees they view.

This last retreat, which seemed but to defer
Danger by being Honor's sepulchre,
Attained in haste; there, calming all the strife
Of various passion, since her father's life
Paid all the tears she owed his losses, he
His virtuous daughter found, prepared to be
No sad addition to his sorrow by
The faults of female imbecility —
Untimely tears; but with a confidence
High as e'er taught brave valour to dispense
With sad disasters, armed to entertain
The worst of ills: to ease the wounded's pain,
Or stop their blood, those hands which once she thought
Should have to victors Triumph's garlands brought,
Are now employed; yet, that her acts may be
The best examples to posterity,
Her present ill, she with such strength withstood —
Its power was lost in hopes of future good.
Precipitated from a throne to be
Subjected by a subject's tyrrany;
To want their pity — who of late did know
No peace, but what his influence did bestow;
With sad presaging fears, to think his fair,
His virtuous daughter, his rich kingdom's heir,
Like to be ravished from his baffled power —
A trophy to a rebel conqueror;
With such afflicting griefs as did exclude
The comforts of his passive fortitude,
Oppressed the prince: when now an army, led
By their pursuing enemies, o'erspread
The circling fields, and brings their fear within
The reach o' the eye. Heightened with hope to win
That now by parl, which, ere the sad success
Of battle made their conquered numbers less,
He feared in fight; the confidently bold
Almanzor, in a scroll that did unfold
A language, whose irreverent style affords
Far more of anger than his soldiers' swords
Had ere stirred fear within his prince's breast,
His fixed intentions thus in brief exprest: —
— — GREAT SIR ,
No airy tumor of untamed desire,
Nursed my ambition — prompts me to aspire
To any action that may soar above
My birth or loyalty; — it was the love
I bore your virtuous daughter that first clad
Me in defensive arms, which never had
Been else unsheathed, though 't had been to defend
Me from injustice — should your sword extend
Its power to tyrrany; but, failing in
That first attempt, ere streams of blood had been
Shed in addition to those drops, my hand
Had broke my sword as guilty, had this land
To whom I owe for the first air I breathed,
Not washed the stain in tears, and since unsheathed
It in the name of Justice. To their good,
Which trembling on uncertain hopes hath stood,
Whilst fearing foreign governors, I have
Added my love, and satisfaction crave
For both, before a greater ill may fall,
To make our sufferings epidemical —
By being slaves to some proud tyrant, that
In politic ambition reaches at
A kingdom by professed affection, and
Marries your daughter — to command your land.

This scroll, spotted with impudence, received
By the vexed prince, whom passion had bereaved
Of politic evasions, he returns
A swift defiance; but his high rage burns
Nought but his own scorched breast — the fainting fire,
Quenched by constraint, wants fuel to blaze higher
Than flashy threatenings, which, since proved a folly,
Sink in the ashes of his melancholy;
For which his ablest council could prepare
No cordial of advice — they rather share
With him in sorrow, whose harsh burthen grows
Not lighter by the company of those
That now lend hearts to bear it. Only in
This sullen cloud's obscurity, this sin
Of their nativity, the noble soul
Of the undaunted princess did control
The harshest lectures of her stars, and sat
Unshaken in this hurricane of fate;
Calming her father's hot adversity
With dews of comfort, taught him how to be
Prince of his passions — a command more great
Than his that trembles in a regal seat.
The enemy, that vainly had till now
Toiled forth their strength, no more endeavours how
By force to conquer; some small time, they knew,
Would, with the bloodless sword of famine, do
More than their cannon could. — The meagre fen
Already grew tyrannical, his men,
Like walking ghosts, wait on their prince, and stand
For shadows on their platforms; not a hand,
But was unnerved with want; yet, whilst each part
Languished toward death, each bosom held a heart,
Which, though most large, could never empty be,
Being doubly filled with grief and loyalty;
Amongst both which, hope for a part puts in —
As the supporter of what else had been
A burthen insupportable, and spoke
This pleasing language — That the royal oak,
Beneath whose winter fortune now they stood,
Pining for want — the withered underwood
That all his miseries dropped on — yet they shall,
Whene'er his brighter stars again do call
His fortune into light, be comforted
By his kind shadow; which shall those, that fled
Him in this sad extreme, then leave to be
Scorched in the rays of angry majesty.
Reduced unto this pitied exigence,
Yet, by his honor, which could not dispense
With aught that like suspicion looked, detained
From what by parl might have their freedom gained,
The loyal sufferers, to declare how far
They fear declined; those mourning weeds of war,
Whose sight a desperate valour doth betray,
Black ensigns, on their guarded walls display.
When to augment their high resolves, with what
Their valour was to pity softened at,
After, with all those coarse, though scarce cates, they
By sparing, first attempted to betray
Time till relief, with they 'd been fed till now
There nought remained, that longer could allow
Life further hopes of sustenance, to do
An act so great, all ages to ensue,
Shall more admire than imitate; within
The hall appears their sovereign, leading in
His hand the princess; whose first view, though drest
In robes as sad as sorrow e'er exprest,
Was but the frontiers of their grief to what,
When nearer seen, whilst sorrow silenced at
So sad an object, might for death be took,
Made solemn grief like grave religion look.
Whilst all thus in sad expectation stand
Of future fate, disdaining to command
Those whom an equal sorrow seemed to make
His fellow sufferers, the sad prince thus spake
His fixed resolves: — " Brave souls, whose loyal love,
Oppressed by my unhappy woes, must prove
Part of my grief, since by my wretched fate
Forced with my own life to precipitate
Your's into danger; from whose reach, (since by
No crime — until the love of loyalty
Become a sin — you are called guilty), yet
Seek some evasion: 'tis not you that sit
Upon the throne he aims at, nor doth here.
A rival in Pharonnida appear.
No, 'tis our lives, our lives, brave subjects, that
His bold ambition only reaches at;
By this pretence — what to my daughter, love,
To 's country, 's pity called, — could he remove
Those, now but small obstructions, soon would grow,
To 's pride united, till it overflow
All limits of a subject's duty by
Rebellious reach, usurped tyranny.
" Go then, and let not my unhappiness
Afflict you more i' the shadow of distress:
'Twill like warm comfort swell my soul, to know
That to his favor you for safety owe.
Did not those sacred canons, that include
All virtue in a christian's fortitude,
Obstruct our passion's progress, we, ere this,
In death had made the haughty rebel miss
The glory of his conquest; which since now
Denied, although unwieldy age allow
Not strength to sell my life at such a rate
Honor aims at, yet shall the slow debate,
E'en in my fall, let the world know I died —
Scorning his pity, as they hate his pride. "
Here stopped the prince; when, as if every breast
One universal sorrow had possest,
Grief (grown into more noble passion) broke
The attentive silence, and thus swiftly spoke
Their resolutions: — " On, on, and lead
Us unto death, no critic eye shall read
Fear through the optics of our souls; but give
Command to act — here 's not a heart durst live
Without obedience. " Comforted with this
Rich cordial, from his sorrow's dark abyss
Raised to resolves, whose greatness equalled all
His former glory, by their fatal fall
To darken the ensuing day, the prince
Gives a command to all his train — that since
Their own free votes elected death, they now
With souls that no terrestrial thought allow
A residence, 'gainst the next morn prepare
That wished-for freedom with himself to share.
All sadly sat, expecting but that light
Whose near approach must to eternal night
Their last conductor be. A sudden, still,
And doleful silence, such as oft doth fill
The room where sick men slumber, when their friends
Stand weeping by, to contemplation bends
Their busy thoughts; within each troubled breast,
Being to leave the mansion she 'd possessed
So long, yet with so short a warning, all
Her faculties the frighted soul did call
Forth of the bosom of those causes, in
Whose form they'd fettered to their crasis been,
To join those powers (yet strong in living breath)
For her assistance in the grasp of death.
The whispering trumpet having called them by
Such sharp notes, as, when powerful foes are nigh
Retreating, parties use, all swiftly rise
From bended knees, and the last sacrifice
They e'er expect to pay to heaven, until
Their soul's last gasp the vocal organs fill.
Concluded was the last sad interview,
The prince was marched, Pharonnida withdrew.
And now, all from the opened ports were in
A swift march sallying, had their speed not been
Thus swiftlier stopped: — Those scattered horse that fled
The battle to the Epirot's court had sped
So well in their embassage, that the prince,
Whom the least negligence might now convince
Of want of love, proud of so fair a chance
To show's affection, swiftly doth advance
With a vast army toward them. Least the fear
Prevailing danger, ere their strength come near
To their necessitated friends, might force
Them to unworthy articles, some horse
Selected are, whose swifter speed might, by
A desperate charge broke through their foes, supply
Their fainting friends. The much desired command
Of these few men, committed to the hand
Of brave Argalia, (ne'er more blest than now
In serving the fair princess), did allow
His sword so fair a field to write the story
Of honor in, that his unblasted glory
Beyond this day shall live — outlive the reach
Of long-armed envy, and those weak souls teach,
That fear the frowns of fate, in spite of all,
Heroic virtue sits too high to fall.
With the day's close they take their march, and, ere
The silver morning on her brow did bear
The burnished gilt o' the sun's warm rays, arrive
In view o' the place. When Fortune, that did strive
To crown their hopes, had wrapped the earth in thick
And heavy mists, the sluggish morning, sick
Of midnight surfeits, from her dewy bed
Pale and discolored rose. This curtain spread
To veil their plot in, they assault their foes;
Which when surprised could not themselves dispose
Fit for resistance, but whilst some did fly
From the distracting danger, others die
To their neglect a sacrifice. The swift
Alarum, like a rude wind's circling drift,
Hurries confusion through the field, and shook
The trembling soldier; some unclad forsook
Their half-fired cabins; death's large gripe did take
Whole troops that destiny ordained to wake
No more till dooms-day, and in 's march prevents
The union of unrallied regiments.
This frighted language of confusion heard
By those o' the castle, which were now prepared
For their last desperate sally, swiftly draws
Them to assist their friends; and though the cause,
Being yet unknown, was only thought to be
Some private jar grown to a mutiny;
Or else the noise the enemy had made,
When all their force was drawing to invade
Them in their works: howe'er they stand not to
Consult with reason, but, as striving who
Shall first encounter death, each several hand
Sought for his own from those that did withstand
His rage-directed strength. Their cannon in
A funeral peal went off, whose steam had been
Their covert to the camp; where finding such
A wild confusion, they assisted much
The fortune of the day, which now was grown
Indubitable — they might call their own
A glorious conquest. The thick sulphury cloud,
Whose dismal shade did that destruction shroud,
Rent with those thunder claps, dissolved into
A shower of blood; what she vouchsafed to do,
Fortune lends light to show them. Having left
Their camp, whilst darkness did protect a theft
That only stole dishonor, which they were
Now in an open flight enforced to bear,
They see Almanzor's broken troops o'erspread
The neighbouring fields: those clouds of men that fled,
Being pursued by companies so small,
That they appeared but like those drops that fall
After a storm. Yet, as the laboring heart
Long struggles for that life, which doth depart
From the less noble members to lend aid
To her in death's pale conflict, having staid
Some of his best commanders, hoping by
Their valour to recal the rest, with high
Undaunted force, Almanzor doth oppose
His enemy's pursuit, till like to enclose
Him in, disdaining the reproachful end
He must expect, no longer stands to attend
The glimmering light of hope: the field he leaves
To conquering Argalia, but deceives
Him of himself — the prize most sought for; which
When lost beyond recovery, he grown rich
In shining honor, that, like sun-beams placed
Within a field of gules, by being defaced,
Had beautified his armour. That dark mist,
Which did at first such contradictions twist,
That he both curst, and blest it — one, 'cause 't did
Aid his design, the other, 'cause it hid.
His heaven of beauty in their dewy bed
Had left the blushing roses, and was fled
Upon the wings o' the wind. With wonder now
Discovered colors taught each party how
To know their friends. The royal standard in
The prince's party had developed been,
By that fair signal to discover who
Was present there. But ere Argalia to
That place arrived, Pharonnida, who had,
Whilst desperation all her beauties clad
In the pale robes of fear, heard all the loud
Shock of the conflict; but, until the cloud
Removed his fatal curtain, never knew
How near the hour of her delivery drew;
That being dissolved, through those which grief had raised
In her fair eyes, did see, and seeing praised
Just Heaven which sent it. Each of those that
Fought for her she commends; but wonders at,
Although unknown, the lightning valour she
Saw in Argalia, whilst with just rage he
Unravels nature's workmanship — a rent
Which were a sin, if not a punishment,
And from the slender web of life did send
Forth rebels' souls, fast as each busy fiend
That waits their falls transports them. Fain she would,
Ere known, conceit 'twere he, but how he should
Come there, and so attended, did exceed
Imagination. Thus whilst her hopes feed
On strange desires, being come near unto
The coach wherein she sat, prepared to do
His love's oblations, he that face disarms;
Which, when beheld, by those attractive charms,
Within the centre of her best desires,
Contracted all her hopes, whose life expires
Soon as they're crowned with wished success. Too great
A distance parts them yet — she leaves her seat,
And flies to his embraces, but concealed
Her passion in his merit, being revealed
To him alone, whose better judgment knew,
That, in those spirit-breathing beams that flew
Through the fair casements of her eyes, did move
The secret language of an ardent love.
This conflict of her passions, which had been
Fought betwixt fear and hope, was settled in
A silent joy, that from her noble breast
Struggled for passage; whilst Argalia, blest
Above his hopes, in burning kisses seals
His service on her virgin hand, that steals
From thence new flames into her heart; which ere
Fed with desire, e'en whilst she did prepare
To entertain those welcome guests, appears
The prince, who now, thawed from the icy fears
Of desperation, was come there to give
Thanks to his unknown friends; but words did live
Within a place too barren to bestow
That fruitful zeal, whose plenty did o'erflow
His eyes, those clouded orators, which till
Disburthened did capacious passion fill.
This moist gale o'er, when now they had awhile
Melted in joy, clothing it with a smile,
He thus unfolds his comfort " Blessed Fates,
You have out-tried my charity, he hates
All real virtue, that confesses not
My care of thee was but an unknown spot
To this large world of satisfaction. " — Here
Kind sorrow stopped his voice again. When fear
Their enemies might rally, and i' the bud
Blast all their blooming joys, even whilst the blood
Reeked on his sword, leaving their eyes to pay
Pursuing prayers, Argalia posts away,
But finds his foes dispersed, excepting one
Stout regiment, whose desperation, grown
To valour, spite of all pursuers, made
Good their retreat; till forced at length to shade
Themselves from the pursuing danger in
A deep dark cave, whose spacious womb had been
Their receptacle, when unlawful theft
Was their profession. In this place they'd left
Their dearest pledges, as most confident
Those dark meanders would their loss prevent.
These stout opposers being protected here,
Before Argalia brought his army near,
Had fortified the narrow pass, and now
Presume of safety, since none else knew how
Without their leave to enter. Hemmed about
With all the castle foot, his horse sent out
To clear the field, the careful general sees;
Then every quarter made secure, he frees
His own from all suspected danger. While
This busy siege did better things beguile
Of some few steps of time, the prince arrives,
To see the leaguer, where each captain strives
With entrance to be honored: but in vain
The subtle engineer here racks his brain;
The mountains yield not to their cannon shock,
Nor mine could pierce the marble-breasted rock.
Thus whilst they lay despairing e'er to force
A place so difficult, with some few horse
Only attended, the vexed prince surrounds
The spacious hill, whose uncouth sight confounds
His ablest guides; making a stand to view
A promontory, on whose brow there grew
A grove of stately cedars, from a dark
And hidden cleft, proud of so rich a mark,
Some muskets are discharged; which missing, by
A desperate sally 's seconded. To fly
The danger thorough such a dreadful way
As now they were to pass, was not to stay —
But hasten ruin; though too weak, in fight
More safety lay, than in unworthy flight.
But valour, like the royal eagle by
A cloud of crows o'ermastered, less to die
With honor, had no refuge left; and that
Here each plebeian gains. When, frighted at
The unusual clamor, with such troops as were
Most fit for speed, Argalia was come there —
Arrived even with that minute which first saw
His prince a captive. Now the rebels draw
Back to their private sally-port, but are
Too speedily pursued to enter far
Within their dark meanders, ere o'ertook
By their enraged foes, who had forsook
Their other stations, and to this alone
Drew all their forces, entering the unknown
And horrid cave, whose troubled womb till then
Ne'er such a cholic felt. Argalia's men,
Following so brave a leader, boldly tread
Through the rock's rugged entrails; those that fled,
Though better skilled in their obscure retreat,
No safety find. The cave's remotest seat
Was now the stage of death; together thronged,
After their swords had life's last step prolonged,
There all the villains in despair had died,
Had not the fear their prince in such a tide
Of blood might have been shipwrecked; whom to save,
A general pardon to the rest is gave.
And now the dreadful earthquake, which had turned
The rock to Ætna could its top have burned
With subterranean fires, being ceased; the prince,
Desirous by his knowledge to convince
Those word-deep wonders, which report had spread
Of that strange cave, commands some to be led
By an old outlaw, whose experience knew
The uncouth vault's remotest corners, to
Those seats of horror. Which performed, and word
Returned again, the danger did afford
Subject for nobler spirits; forthwith he,
Attended by Argalia, goes to see
What had affrighted them. The dreadful way
Through which he passed, being steep and rugged, lay
Between two black and troubled streams, that through
The cleft rock rolled with horrid noise, till to
An ugly lake, whose heavy streams did lie
Unstirred with air, they come, and there are by
That black asphaltos swallowed. A strange sound
Of yelling dragons, hissing snakes, confound
Each trembling auditor; till comforted
By bold Argalia venturing first to tread
On stones, which did like ruined arches lie
Above the surface of the lake, he's by
Their aid brought to an antient tower, that stood
Fixed in the centre of the lazy flood: —
Its basis founded on a rock, whose brow,
With age disfigured into clefts, did now
With loud and speedy ruin threaten to
Crush all beneath it; round about it flew
On sooty wings such ominous birds as hate
The cheerful day; vipers and scorpions sat
Circled in darkness, till the cold damp breath
Of near concreted vapors, singed to death
B' the numerous light of torches, which did shine
Through the whole mountain's convex, and refine
Air with restraint corrupted, forcing way
By conquering flames recals the banished day.
Come now to a black tower, which seemed to be
The throne of some infernal deity,
That his extended laws reaches unto
The brazen gate, whose folded leaves withdrew —
Assaults their eyes with such a flux of light,
That, as the dim attendants of the night
In bashful duty shun the prince of day,
So their lost tapers unto this give way;
Whilst it, with wonder that belief outgrew,
Transports their sights to the amazing view
Of so much beauty, that the use of sense
Was lost in more than human excellence.
A glorious room, so elegantly fair
In 'ts various structure, that the riotous heir
O' the eastern crescent that might choose to be
The theatre of shining majesty,
They now behold; yet than its mighty strength,
Which had preserved such beauty from the length
Of Age's iron talons, there appear
More rare perfections — the large floor, of clear
Transparent emeralds, lent a lustre to
The oval roof; whose scarce seen ground was blue,
Studded with sparkling gems, whose brightness lent
The beauties of the vaulted firmament
To all beneath their beams; the figured walls,
Embossed with rare and antic sculptury, calls
For th' next observance: though the serious eye,
The way to truth in secret mystery
Here having lost, lets the dark text alone,
To view the beauties of a glorious throne,
Which, placed within the splendid room, did stand
Beneath an ivory arch, o'er which the hand
Of art, in golden hieroglyphics, had
The story of ensuing fate unclad,
But vainly, since the art — defective times
Struck nought but discords on those well-tuned chimes.
Upon the throne, in such a glorious state
As earth's adored favorites, there sat
The image of a monarch, vested in
The spoils of nature's robes, whose price had been
A diadem's redemption; his large size,
Beyond this pigmy age, did equalize
The admired proportion of those mighty men,
Whose cast-up bones, grown modern wonders, when
Found out, are carefully preserved to tell
Posterity — how much these times are fell
From Nature's youthful strength; if't be no worse,
Our sin's stenography, the dwarfish curse
Ordained for large sized luxury. Before
The throne, a lamp, whose fragrant oils had more
Perfumed the room than all the balmy wealth
Of rich Arabia, stood; light, life, and health,
Dwelt in its odors, but what more contents
The pleased spectators, that fair hand presents
The rest t' the view: — the image to declare
Of whom the effigies was, on 's front did bear
A regal crown, and in his hand sustained
A threatening sceptre; but what more explained
Antiquity's mysterious dress was seen
In a small tablet; which, as if't had been
Worth more observance than what Fate exprest
In unknown figures, he did gently rest
His left hand on, as if endeavouring by
That index to direct posterity —
How in their wonder's altitude to praise
The deeper knowledge of those wiser days,
By reading in such characters as Time
Learned in her nonage — this — in antic rhyme,

When striving to remove this light,
It princes leaves involved in night,
The time draws near, that shall pull down
My old Morea's triple crown;
Uniting, on one royal head,
What to disjoin such discord bred:
But let the more remote take heed,
For there 's a third ordained to bleed;
For when I 'm read, not understood,
Then shall Epirus' royal blood,
By ways no mortal yet must know,
Within the Ætolian channel flow.

This strange inscription read, not only by
The prince, but those whom wonder had drawn nigh
The sacred room, their fancies' civil war
Grows full of trouble; 'tis a text so far
Beyond a comment, that their judgments, in
Enigmas mazed, had long let motion been
In epileptic wonder lost, until
(As that alone contained their dreaded ill)
The greater part with joined consents advise
To have the lamp removed, since in it lies,
If those lines prove prophetic, the linked fate
Of all Ietian princes. Which debate,
Being carried in the affirmative, the rest
Drew back, whilst bold Argalia forward prest;
But's thus soon staid; — the stone, on which he stept
Next, was by art so framed, that it had kept
Concealed an engine's chiefest spring, which, by
The least weight touched, in furious haste let fly
Unpractised wheels, and with such vigor strook
The sceptre on the long lived lamp — it shook
Its crystal walls to dust; — not thunder's strong
Exagitations, when it roars among
Heaps of congested elements, a sound
More dreadful makes. But what did most confound
Weak trembling souls, was the thick darkness that
Succeeds the dying flame; which wondering at,
Whilst all remain, art's feeble aids supply
The lamp's lost virtue with new lights, but by
Cold damps so darkened, that contracted night
Scorned their weak flames, showing that hallowed light
Contained more sacred virtues. Now, as Fate
Had only to that hour prolonged the date
Of all within, a sudden change, to dust
The mighty body turns; consuming rust
Had ate the brazen imagery, and left
No sign of what till then safe from the theft
Of time remained; darkness had repossessed
The sullen cave — to an eternal rest;
In the rude chaos of their ashes, all
Art's lively figures in an instant fall.
Pleased with the sight of these strange objects more
Than with war's dangers he was vexed before,
The prince with all his train of conquerors now
Is gone to teach the expecting army how
To share their wonder; but not far from thence
Removes, before confirmed intelligence
Acquaints him with the Epirot's march; who in
His swift advance so fortunate had been,
That falling on such as the morning's flight
Flattered with hope, they there met endless night
At unawares: but of these added numbers
Was cursed Almanzor none; yet Justice slumbers
I' the prosecution of his unripe fate,
Which must more horrid sins accumulate:
Before cut off, his clamorous guilt must call
For vengeance louder, and grow hectical
With custom, till the tables of his shame
Into oblivion rot his loathed name.