University of Virginia Library

SCENE changes to the Palace of the Governour.
Enter Sicoris, Murrus and Timandra.
Sic.
Tho' twice four Moons the Tyrian has begirt,
With Troops unnumber'd as his Africk Sands,
Our Walls; yet still, tho' shatter'd, they remain;
Our Tow'rs, tho' shaken, still erect their Heads,
And threaten in their Fall to crush the Foe.

Mur.
Thus low reduc'd, thus sore distress'd by Famine,
The People still retain their pristine Valour;
Patient they suffer all the dire Extremes,
While Rest and Sustenance seem Things forgot.

Tim.
With feeble Steps, upheld by disus'd Spears,
Our aged Sires ascend and man the Ramparts,
Pour thence in Pray'rs a Flood of Blessings down,
And chear with good Presage their sallying Sons.

Sic.
And such should prove th'Event, were not their Strength
Impair'd by Want of Nature's due Refreshments;
Strong in their Hearts alone, their Foes they seek,
With whom, when met, they deal but slender Blows.

Tim.
Oh, glorious Love of Liberty and Truth!
Oh, pow'rful Force of pure unwav'ring Faith,
Saguntum's other Deity rever'd:
Relieve, thou Goddess, thy true Votaries,
And from thy bless'd Abode show'r down Assistance.

Sic.
Thou Pow'r divine! born before Jove himself!
At once the Glory both of Men and Gods,
Consort of Justice, Deity confess'd
In ev'ry Bosom where thou deign'st to dwell;
Can'st thou, unmov'd, behold thy own Saguntum
Oppress'd with Woes surpassing humane Bearing?
Woes, that she suffers for thy sake alone?
For thee the People die, on thee they call,
The rueful Father, and despairing Matron,
While famish'd Infants learn to speak thy Name;
Oh! let their innocent and piteous Cries
Pull down thy Vengeance on our cruel Foes.

Tim.
This Day, my Father, have the Priests decreed,
Directed by their Chief, the pious Theron,
To pass in solemn Pomp around the City;
With all due Rites and hallowed Ceremonies,
Invoking to our Aid Alcmæna's Son.
At the same Time, attended by a Troop
Of noblest Virgins, shall Timandra go
To Faith's chaste Shrine; there prostrate on the Floor,
Our Heads and Hands array'd in purest white,
We'll humbly join th'Oblation of our Pray'rs,
And from the Goddess beg her kind Protection.

Mur.
In vain, I fear me, are those Pray'rs prefer'd,
While Fate too closely presses on our State,
Giv'n up to Ruin by the faithless Romans.
Like our great Founder, are we doom'd to fall;
Who, after Labours most unparallel'd,
Became the Victim of base Treachery.

Sic.
The War indeed is rather theirs than ours,
For Hannibal, through us, but aims at them;
With horrid Rites at Proserpine's dark Altar
Sworn by his Father, their invet'rate Foe,
Implacable he meditates the future War;
Already in his Thoughts the Alps are past;
The Latian Fields cover'd with Desolation,
While floating Carcasses obstruct the Streams;
His Thirst of Blood and fierce Imagination
Ev'n now give Rome to his destructive Rage;
O'er the sev'n Hills the Tyrian Flame ascends,
And by himself the Capitol is fir'd.

Mur.
By Hercules, should all his Hopes be answer'd,
'Twould be but what their Perfidy deserves;
Ingloriously to sit, and see a People
Fighting their Cause, allied in strictest League,
Receive Conditions from a merc'less Victor.

Sic.
Let not thy Country's Love too far transport
Thy juster Thoughts, my Son; for thou shalt find
The Romans ever were renown'd for Faith,
Rigid Observers of their sacred Compacts,
And in their Word, once giv'n, inviolate;
Can the whole Earth produce another Instance
Equal to that of their great Regulus?
Immortal Man! thou dost as far transcend
All other Heroes, as the Sun the Stars.

Mur.
'Tis true, and therefore shames their present Race:
He shou'd by's Truth, methinks, have been Saguntine.

Sic.
Curb thy licentious Tongue, intemp'rate Boy,
Shalt thou presume to scan Rome's awful Councils?
The secret Springs, that move the Wheels of Empire,
Are wrought too subtle for Youth's giddy Eyes.
Assume not to thy self, then, what's above thee;
Nor think opprobrious Language makes a Patriot.
Enter Theron.
Thy Steps are hasty, and thy Looks declare
That Haste important; is there ought beside,
Than that, perhaps, the Foe appears in Arms?

Ther.
The Foe, I think, is got within our Walls;
A new intestine Foe, accurs'd Sedition:
The People mutiny, and thro' the Streets
Grumbling they mutter Treachery and Fabius,
The Captive Queen, and more such idle Tales,
I heeded not; but hither bent me straight,
To tell thee this so much unlook'd for Mischief;
Be quick, and crush the Monster in its Birth.

Tim.
Oh! Sir, believe not, Fabius can be guilty
Of the least Thought repugnant to his Honour;
Virtue to him is all the World can give,
He by her strictest Rules his Actions guides;
This is vile Calumny and base Aspersion,
The ven'mous Offspring of some Villain's Brain,
Who hates the noble Youth for being Roman.

Sic.
Thy Cautions how to think of him are needless,
Full well I know, and knowing prize his Worth:
Retire, my Child, while I go meet the People;
Make thy Heart easy; Fabius be my Care.

[Exeunt Theron, Sicoris, and Murrus.
Tim.
Make him your Care too, ye all-gracious Pow'rs!
Protect the lively Pattern of your selves,
The Great, the Good, Beneficent and Just.
Enter Fabius.
Ha! Fabius; sure, he knows not of the News.

Fab.
The People's Eyes scowl'd on me as I past,
And low'ring knit, methought, their angry Brows.
Not so their Wont, while Mothers to their Children
With grateful grating Words, severely kind,
Pointing, would say, there goes indeed a Roman.
I know not what to think; but see, Timandra;
And in her Presence other Cares are lost.

Tim.
Did'st thou not meet my Father at thy Entrance?

Fab.
I did; some slight Disturbance, as he said,
Requir'd his Presence in the Forum; told me
Thou wer't alone, and pensive; bid me cheer thee;
And wish'd me here to stay till his Return.

Tim.
It was his Care to keep him from the Tumult,
[Aside.
Which by his Absence best might be compos'd;
I take the Hint—thou cam'st, I thought, to cheer me.

Fab.
Alas! Timandra, can it be, my Tongue
Should that impart, which my griev'd Heart ne'er knows?
All jocund Thoughts have fled the wretched Fabius,
And Cheerfulness and I have long been Strangers.
Thy Love alone it is supports my Soul,
Try'd by Distress, a sadly pleasing Comfort.

Tim.
Thy Words, tho' mournful, still have Pow'r to charm,
Gently they sooth my most perplexing Fears.
With thee conversing I forget my Sorrows,
While softer Passions fill their empty Place,
Engross my Bosom, and possess me whole.

Fab.
Nor think, I hear thee speak thus without Rapture;
Thy kind Expressions fill my Heart with Transport,
Like softest Harmony they reach my Ear,
And thrilling Pleasures shoot thro' ev'ry Vein:
Yet when they cease, so do not too thy Charms;
Speaking, or mute, the Graces wait around thee,
And Loveliness attends and forms each Motion.

Tim.
Thus to thy Eyes I would indeed appear,
And thus I do believe thy Passion paints me;
When o'er our Hearts fond Love has got Dominion,
With his own Blindness he infects his Subjects:
Yet whatsoe'er I am, believe me thine,
Thine in the last Recesses of my Soul.

Fab.
Shall I then hear, and only hear the Blessing?
While cruel Fate denies me the Fruition.
Come, come, my Countrymen; redeem your Honour,
And drive these faithless Africans before you.

Tim.
The very Thought revives me: Should they come,—
And sure, methinks, they should, we yet were happy.

Fab.
Prophetick be thy Words! Let me, great Gods,
Behold the glorious Day, when Rome's dread Pow'r
Shall muster on yon' Plains her warlike Bands;
Soon shalt thou lose thy Fears, and see with Joy
The Tyrian Troops dislodge, and fly before them.
So when a Mountain Goat some Tiger spies,
Browzing the Shrubs, at his full Stretch he flies,
Already seiz'd of her with greedy Eyes.
From the Rock's Refuge, her securer Haunts,
Driv'n o'er the Plain, the wearied Creature pants;
Hardly, with Fear, and Toil, her Breath she draws,
And now, just now, dreads his protended Claws:
If then the lordly Lion come in View,
No longer dares he the close Chase pursue;
Aw'd, yet with Rage indignant, stalks away,
And to the nobler Brute resigns his hard-sought Prey.

[Exeunt.