Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric by the Revd. H. Boyd ... containing the following dramatic poems: The Helots, a tragedy, The Temple of Vesta, The Rivals, The Royal Message. Prize Poems, &c. &c |
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 | Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric |  |
SCENE I
Scene—A Wood near Amyclæ in Laconia.AMPHIDAMAS and DYMAS—two Helots.
Amph.
What! Memnon told you!—Memnon! Sparta's spy!
Messenia's scourge! and will you trust to him?
A fabler! a barbarian! Slave of slaves!
Long galled by Persian bondage, and in scorn
Set over us, to aggravate our wrongs,
With the last insult to the Grecian name?
He told you that a casual quarrel caus'd
This cruel stroke that lops our strength away!
What was the circumstance? Repeat the tale!
And then, observe my comment!
6
What I heard
Carries its own conviction on its face;
Nor would our magistrates at such a time,
Like gray-hair'd ideots, break in wanton sport
The laws themselves had made. Alcander's doom
(Ever lamented by Messenia's sons)
Rose from a casual quarrel, in the fane
Of Jove's immortal daughters. There, at noon,
When midst ascending fumes, the swelling hymn
Roll'd in long plaudits round the awful dome,
The fierce Androcles saw Alcander nigh,
Listning the chorus; and inflam'd with rage
At the intrusion of a branded slave
Amid the rites of freemen, in a tone
Of mingled rage and scorn, address'd the youth;
Who, too incautious, or inflam'd by wrongs,
Retorted with like scorn. The brother, then,
Of proud Androcles interpos'd to soothe
His rising rancour, and a transient calm
Promis'd fallacious peace, but night beheld
His smother'd passions kindle like the fires
That promise future tempest. By the moon
The savage trac'd his noble prey along,
Even to his native woods, and struck the blow.
Amph.
Time will detect the falsehood, or confirm
Its truth. If our proud masters meant to shew
Respect to their own laws, the legal sword
Had punish'd the assassin.
7
This is certain,
Androcles has absconded; or (at least,
As Fame reports,) he has not since appear'd.—
Amph.
I trust no rumours; what I clearly know,
That I'll believe. But Rumour is suborn'd
(I fear) to soothe us in deceitful calm.
Spite of surrounding foes, and rude alarms;
Some dreadful machination is on foot
Some baneful damp, to quench the rising flame
Of Liberty, that kindles thro' our bands.
Else why, with all this semblance of regard,
This sanctimonious face of sympathy,
Why, when the council met to change the law
For our relief, was midnight nam'd the hour
Of dark decision? Why did they select
The Temple of the Furies for the seat
Of counsel? Did Humanity's soft laws
E'er take their birth from these detested walls?
Why were the Helot's try'd and constant friends
Excluded from the dark divan? And why
Are all Messenia's friends, where'er they rul'd,
In Lacedeamon's martial bands, cashier'd,
Despoil'd, at once, of all their crested pride,
And, in their room, our most inveterate foes,
The gloomiest bigots of their cruel code
Promoted? Say, my friend, are these the signs
Of lasting league, of amity, and peace?
Dym.
Be calm—methought I heard a rustling noise
8
My ear was not deceiv'd—'tis Memnon's self—
He must not find us here!
Amph.
I wish it not.
Of all the proud surveyors of our toils,
Tho' some are more imperious, none I dread
Nor hate so much as him, yet know not why.
Exeunt.
| Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric | |