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After this dreadful work, Antonius and Octavianus went across to Greece, where Marcus Brutus had collected the remains of the army that had fought under Pompeius. He had been made much of at Athens, where his statue had been set up beside that of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, the slayers of Pisistratus. Cassius had plundered Asia Minor, and the two met at Sardis.
Thou liv'st in the isles of the blest, 'tis said, With Achilles, first in speed, And Tydides Diomede. In a wreath of myrtle I'll wear my glaive, Like Harmodius and Aristogeiton brave, When the twain on Athena's day Did the tyrant Hipparchus slay. Even now, more than thirty years later, the breeze in the Sabine ilex seemed to be playing a wraith of the same tune.
In default of pleasant stories of filthy intrigue or lewd jest, men like Cinthio and Bandello will gabble off occasionally some tragic story, picked out of a history book or recently heard from a gossip: the stories of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, of Disdémona and the Moorish Captain, of Roméo Montecchio and Giulietta Cappelletti, of the Cardinal d'Aragona and the Duchess of Amalfi, of unknown grotesque Persian Sophis and Turkish Bassas stories of murder, massacre, rape, incest, anything and everything, prattled off, with a few words of vapid compassion and stale moralizing, in the serene, cheerful, chatty manner in which they recount their Decameronian escapades or Rabelaisian repartees.
They succeeded in killing Hipparchus near the Leocoreum while he was engaged in arranging the procession, but ruined the design as a whole; of the two leaders, Harmodius was killed on the spot by the guards, while Aristogeiton was arrested, and perished later after suffering long tortures.
They paid yearly honours to the memory of the murderers Harmodius and Aristogeiton; and as Leœna means a lioness, they honoured that brave woman’s constancy with the statue of a lioness without a tongue. Hippias wandered about for some time, and ended by going to the court of the king of Persia.
"I'll wreathe my sword with myrtle, as Aristogeiton did, And as the brave Harmodius his avenging weapon hid; When on Athenae's festival they aimed the glorious blow, And calling on fair freedom, laid the proud Hipparchus low.
According to the story of the popular party, Aristogeiton accused the friends of the tyrants with the deliberate intention that the latter might commit an impious act, and at the same time weaken themselves, by putting to death innocent men who were their own friends; others say that he told no falsehood, but was betraying the actual accomplices.
"Thy fame, beloved Harmodius, through ages still shall brighten, Nor ever shall thy glory fade, beloved Aristogeiton; Because your country's champions ye nobly dared to be, And striking down the tyrant, made the men of Athens free." The exhilarating notes stirred every Grecian heart. Some waved their garlands in triumph, while others joined in the music, and kept time with branches of myrtle.
With rapid fingers the maiden touched her lyre, and sung the patriotic song of Callistratus: "I'll wreathe my sword with myrtle, as brave Harmodius did, And as Aristogeiton his avenging weapon hid; When they slew the haughty tyrant and regained our liberty, And, breaking down oppression, made the men of Athens free.
The ancient popular song that he had so often heard sung by modern Greek students over their cups seemed to be beaten out by his horse's hoofs as, in the pale dawn, they clattered out of the city gate: In a wreath of myrtle I'll wear my glaive, Like Harmodius and Aristogeiton brave, Who, striking the tyrant down, Made Athens a freeman's town. Harmodius, our darling, thou art not dead!
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