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Swells on the surface. Marble structures' there
New gloss of beauty borrow from the Moon
To deck the shore. Now silence gently yields
To measur'd strokes of oars. The orange groves,
In rich profusion round the fertile verge,
Impart to fanning breezes fresh perfumes
Exhaustless, visiting the sense with sweets,
Which soften ev'n Briareus; but the son
Of Gobryas, heavy with devouring care,
Uncharm'd, unheeding sits."

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The whole description of Mardonius' visit to the cave of Trophonius, is, also, admirably executed, and contains much of that species of local painting in which Glover excels.

Mardonius determinates to consult the oracle ; he is told, that

“ Rueful is the mode

Of consultation, though from peril free:”. he, however, perseveres; and we shall begin our extract with his navigation down the Cephissus, in search of the cave. We would gladly introduce the whole episode, if our limits did not forbid.

Against the influx of Cephissus, down
Lebadian vales in limpid flow convey'd,
The rowers now are lab'ring. O'er their heads
Huge alders weave their canopies, and shed
Disparted moonlight through the lattic'd boughs;
Where Zephyr plays, and whisp’ring motion breathes
Among the pliant leaves. Now roseate tints
Begin to streak the orient' verge of Heav'n,
Foretok’ning day. The son of Gobryas lands,
Where in soft murmur down a channell’d slope
The stream Hercyna, from Trophonian groves,
Fresh bubbling meets Cephissus. He ascends

Showering down a silver light

From heaven, upon her chosen favorite.”, Indeed, this piece of glorious poetic beauty seems compounded, with a few additional and exquisite touches of the poet's own, of the above passage in Glover, and that in Milton on this favoured bird :

“ The swan with arched neck
Between her white wings mantling, proudly rows
Her state with oary feet.”- -Seventh Book, Par. Lost.

With all his train. Th'enclosure, which begirds
The holy purlieus, through a portal hung
With double valves on obelisks of stone,
Access afforded to the steps of none
But suppliants. Hegesistratus accosts
One in pontific vesture station’d there.”

Mardonius is admitted alone, and conducted by the priest into a dome, where the gloomy chief' bows before the statue of a ‘genius good,' whose lineaments recal his lost Masistius forcibly to his recollection : an incident, which gives occasion to an address in a tender vein of poetry, but which we must pass over. Forsaking the dome,

Along Hercyna's bank they now proceed,
To where the river parts. One channel holds
A sluggish, creeping water, under vaults
Of ebon shade, and soporific yew,
The growth of ages on the level line
Of either joyless verge. The satrap here,
Nam'd and presented by his former guide,
A second priest receives, conductor new
Through night-resembling shadows, which obscure
The sleepy stream, unmoving to the sight,

Or moving mute.”
After drinking of the Lethean fount, they proceed:

“Ascending thence, a mazy walk they tread,
Where all the Season's florid children show
Their gorgeous raiment, and their odours breathe
Unspent; while musical in murmur flows
Fast down a deep declivity of bed
Hercyna, winding in a channel new,
Apparent often to the glancing eye
Through apertures, which pierce the loaden boughs
Of golden fruit Hesperian, and th' attire
Of myrtles green, o'ershadowing the banks.

In alabaster's variegated hues,
To bound the pleasing avenue, a fane
Its symmetry discover'd on a plat,
Thick-set with roses, which a circling skreen
Of that fair ash, where cluster'd berries glow,
From ruffling gusts defended.”

After undergoing a variety of ceremonies ; at length,

“ Fresh from ablution, lo! Mardonius comes

In linen vesture, fine and white, as down
Of Paphian doves. A sash of tincture bright,
Which rivall'd Flora's brilliancy of dye,
Engirds his loins ; majestical his brows
A wreath sustain; Lebadian sandals ease
His steps. Exchanging thus his martial guise,
Like some immortal, of a gentler mould
Than Mars, he moves. So Phæbus, when he sets,
Lav'd by the nymphs of Tethys in their grot
Of coral after his diurnal toil,
Repairs his splendours, and his rosy track
Of morn resumes.”

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“Next through a winding cavity and vast
He guides the prince along a mossy vault,
Rough with protuberant and tortuous roots
Of ancient woods, which, clothing all above,
In depth shoot downward equal to their height;
Suspended lamps, with livid glimpse and faint,
Direct their darkling passage. Now they reach
The further mouth unclosing in a dale
Abrupt; there shadow, never-fleeting, rests.
Rude-featur'd crags, o'erhanging, thence expel
The blaze of noon. Beneath a frowning cliff
A native arch, of altitude which tempts
The soaring eagle to construct his nest,
Expands before an excavation deep,
Unbowelling the hill. On either side
This gate of nature, hoary sons of time,
Enlarg’d by ages to portentous growth,
Impenetrable yews augment the gloom.

In height two cubits, on the rocky floor
A parapet was rais'd of marble white,
In circular dimension; this upholds
The weight of polish'd obelisks, by zones
Of brass connected, ornamental fence.
A wicket opens to th' advancing prince;
Steps moveable th' attentive priest supplies;
By whom instructed, to the awful chasm
Below, profound but narrow, where the god
His inspiration breathes, th' intrepid son
Of Gobryas firm descends. His nether limbs
Up to the loins he plunges. Downward drawn,
As by a whirlpool of some rapid flood,

At once the body is from sight conceal’d.
Entranc'd he lies in subterranean gloom,
Less dark than superstition. She, who caus'd
His bold adventure, with her wonted fumes
Of perturbation from his torpid state
Awakes him; rather in a dream suggests
That he is waking. On a naked bank
He seems to stand; before him sleeps a pool,
Edg'd round by desert mountains, in their height
Obscuring Heav'n. Without impulsive oars,
Without a sail, spontaneous flies a bark
Above the stagnant surface, which, untouch'd,
Maintains its silence. On the margin rests
The skiff, presenting to the hero's view
An aged sire, of penetrating ken,
His weight inclining on an ebon staff.”

This “aged sire” is Trophonius, with whom Mardonius sinks into the cave of the fatal sisters, learns his fate, and instantly

“ Whirl'd
Back from Trophonian gloom, is found supine
Within the marble parapet, which fenc'd
The cavern's mouth.”

When the dejection which naturally depresses the mind of the Persian hero after his mysterious interview, has been somewhat relieved, his visit to his haram is described in this passage of oriental luxuriance and beauty, which, for its warmth of colouring, is not unworthy of the pen of the author of Lalla Rookh.

“ The midnight hour was past, a season dear
To softly-tripping Venus. Through a range
Of watchful eunuchs in apartments gay
He seeks the female quarter of his tent,
Which, like a palace of extent superb,
Spreads on the field magnificence. Soft lutes,
By snowy fingers touch’d, sweet-warbled song
From ruby lips, which harmonize the air,
Impregnated with rich Panchæan scents,
Salute him ent'ring. Gentle hands unclasp
His martial harness, in a tepid bath
Lave and perfume his much-enduring limbs.
A couch is strewn with roses; he reclines,
In thinly-woven taffeta. So long

In pond'rous armour cas'd, he scarcely feels
The light and loose attire. Around him smile
Circassian Graces, and the blooming flow'rs
Of beauty cull'd from ev'ry clime to charm.
Lo! in transcending ornament of dress
A fair one, all-surpassing, greets the chief;
But pale her lip, and wild her brilliant eye."

The concluding battle is related in the author's best manner: the death of Medon, particularly, is an admirable sequel to those of the chosen heroes at Thermopylæ. Indeed, it is remarkable that the poet rises in strength and beauty towards the close. The versification becomes more sustained, and the imagery more fully developed : the sentiments are now no longer thrown at the reader with that sturdy carelessness which was conspicuous in the first and larger portion of the poem; but, on the contrary, the whole bears an air of finish and completeness. This singular amendment, where others usually flag, may, perhaps, in some measure, confirm the idea hinted at above, that these thirty books were intended as the garner or store-house of a poem to be afterwards fashioned out of the materials—and that Glover, finding that he was not likely to live to execute his whole design, bestowed his care and pains in forming the books that were still passing under his hand, more like what the whole would have been, had he hoped to have finished it. It will be recollected, that the work was printed, as we have it, after the death of the author.

The following passage will enable our readers to estimate the pathetic power of Glover, of which it may be considered a favourable specimen. His pathos is not, indeed, deep and overflowing—not like the flower, which, filled with recent dew, until its bosom, no longer able to sustain the rich incumbrance, pours forth its watery treasures, relieving itself and fertilizing the earth around it; yet, it is gentle, harmonious, and might almost be called beautiful, but it is the placid beauty of the “moonlight sleeping upon a bank,” with something of its coldness. The scene is immediately after Acanthè, who conceives a passion for Themistocles, has been rescued by him from the flames and from death.

“ Not so Acanthè's troubles are compos'd.
When lenient balm of Morpheus steep'd the cares
Of other bosoms; in the midnight damps
She quits a thorny pillow. Half array'd,
With naked feet she roams a spacious floor,
Whence she contemplates that retreat of rest,
Enclosing all her wishes, hapless fair!

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