'Twas now the time when his heroic task Seem'd but perform'd in vain; when, soothed by years 40 Of flattering service, the fond multitude Hung with their sudden counsels on the breath Of great Pisistratus, that chief renown'd, Whom Hermes and the Idalian queen had train'd, Even from his birth, to every powerful art Of pleasing and persuading; from whose lips Flow'd eloquence which, like the vows of love, Could steal away suspicion from the hearts Of all who listen'd. Thus from day to day He won the general suffrage, and beheld 50 Each rival overshadow'd and depress'd Beneath his ampler state; yet oft complain'd, As one less kindly treated, who had hoped To merit favour, but submits perforce To find another's services preferr'd, Nor yet relaxeth aught of faith or zeal. Then tales were scatter'd of his envious foes, Of snares that watch'd his fame, of daggers aim'd Against his life. At last, with trembling limbs, His hair diffused and wild, his garments loose, 60 And stain'd with blood from self-inflicted wounds, He burst into the public place, as there, There only, were his refuge; and declared In broken words, with sighs of deep regret, The mortal danger he had scarce repell'd. Fired with his tragic tale, the indignant crowd, To guard his steps, forthwith a menial band, Array'd beneath his eye for deeds of war, Decree. Oh! still too liberal of their trust, And oft betray'd by over-grateful love, 70 The generous people! Now behold him fenced By mercenary weapons, like a king, Forth issuing from the city-gate at eve To seek his rural mansion, and with pomp Crowding the public road. The swain stops short, And sighs; the officious townsmen stand at gaze, And shrinking give the sullen pageant room. Yet not the less obsequious was his brow; Nor less profuse of courteous words his tongue, Of gracious gifts his hand; the while by stealth, 80 Like a small torrent fed with evening showers, His train increased; till, at that fatal time Just as the public eye, with doubt and shame Startled, began to question what it saw, Swift as the sound of earthquakes rush'd a voice Through Athens, that Pisistratus had fill'd The rocky citadel with hostile arms, Had barr'd the steep ascent, and sate within Amid his hirelings, meditating death To all whose stubborn necks his yoke refused. 90 Where then was Solon? After ten long years Of absence, full of haste from foreign shores, The sage, the lawgiver had now arrived: Arrived, alas! to see that Athens, that Fair temple raised by him and sacred call'd To Liberty and Concord, now profaned By savage hate, or sunk into a den Of slaves who crouch beneath the master's scourge, And deprecate his wrath, and court his chains. Yet did not the wise patriot's grief impede 100