University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

MEROPE. EURICLES. ISMENE. Guards, with EUMENES, in Chains.
EUMENES.
—(To Ismene.)
Is That the Queen, so fam'd for Miseries?

ISMENE.
It is.

EUMENES.
How sweetly aweful!—how adorn'd, by Sorrows!

ISMENE.
Why dost thou pause? the Queen admits thee nearer.

EUMENES.
No wonder, so much Sweetness, so distress'd,
Mov'd, even so greatly distant,—as to me:
And drew me, from my Desart!—Give me Leave
To stand, a while.—and gaze unmark'd—and note her.
—O, ye protecting Gods! whate're becomes
Of an abandon'd, nameless Thing, like me,
Bless this Supreme Unfortunate!

ISMENE.
Madam!—the Prisoner waits.

MEROPE.
—Turning, to observe him.
A Murderer, This!—
Come forward, Stranger.
—A Mien like this, a Murd'rer's!—Can it be,
That Looks, so form'd for Truth, so mark'd for Innocence,
Cover a cruel Heart?—Come nearer, Youth!
Thou art unhappy; bid That Fate protect thee:
And speak, as to an Ear that loves the Wretched.
Answer me now.—Whose was the Blood thou shed'st?

EUMENES.
Oh, Queen!—Yet—for a Moment—spare my Tongue.

MEROPE.
Murder, and Modesty!—Whence, all this Shame?

EUMENES.
Respect, Confusion,—something, here—un-nam'd,
And never felt, till now,—have bound my Tongue.
But—oh! do Justice, to your Power to shake me;
And, let not Hesitation—pass—for Guilt.

MEROPE.
Go on—Who was he, whom, I'm told, thou ha'st kill'd?

EUMENES.
One, who with Wrongs, and Insult, urg'd my Rashness.
Young Blood takes Fire too aptly.

MEROPE.
Young!—was he young?
Ice, at my conscious Heart, were warm—compar'd
With what he chills my Soul with!—Did'st thou know him?

EUMENES.
I did not. All Mycene's Earth, and Air,
Her Cities, and her Sons, are new, to me.

MEROPE.
What, was he arm'd, this young Assaulter? came he
With Malice? or for Robbery? Be of Comfort.
If he attack'd thee, thy Defence was necessary.
And sad Necessity makes All things just.

EUMENES.
Heaven is my Witness, I provok'd him not.
'Tis not in Valour's Wish, to offer Insult:
And sure! it is no Crime, to check it, offer'd.

MEROPE.
On, then—relate the Chance, that led thee hither.

EUMENES.
Entring your Borders, I beheld a Temple,
Sacred to Hercules; the God, my Soul
Low, as my Lot was cast, aspires to Honour.
—What shou'd I do? bare Vot'ry as I was!
I had no Off'rings: brought no Victims, with me.
Poor, and oppress'd by Fortune, what I cou'd
I gave—I knelt, and pour'd a Heart before him,
Warm, as a hundred Hecatombs! pure, humble,
Pious, and firm.—Th'Unhappy can no more.
I ask'd not, for myself, his undue Blessing.
I pray'd Protection, to his own high Race:
For, I had heard, Great Queen! your Wrongs requir'd it.
The Present God, methought, receiv'd my Prayer.
His Altar trembled; and his Temple rung!
Keen, undulating. Glories beam'd, about me:
I know not how I bore it!—but, my Heart,
Full of the Force infus'd, at once grew Vaster.
My swelling Courage, far above myself,
Sustain'd me:—and I glow'd, with All the God.

MEROPE.
(Rising in Emotion.)
Go on. Methinks, the God thou nam'st speaks in theee!
And Ev'ry Hearer glows, as warm'd as Thou!

EUMENES.
I bow'd, and left the Temple—Following, came
Two Men, of haughty Stride, with angry Lowre:
Roughly, accosting, they reproach'd my Prayer.
How did I dare, they ask'd, solicite Heaven,
To aid Sedition's Purposes? No God
Shou'd save a Wretch like me, prescrib'd by Power.
—I heard, astonish'd; and prepar'd to speak:
When, with impatient Fierceness, Each rais'd Arm,
With Rage conjoin'd, came on.

MEROPE.
Interrupting.
Both!—Came they,
Both,
To wound thee!—

EUMENES.
Both, with Madman's Frenzy,
Struck at my Breast, ignobly.

MEROPE.
Thou has eas'd me.
Go on.—These Men had Souls, that match'd their Fate.

EUMENES.
Un-arm'd, and inoffensive, so surpriz'd,
The God I had address'd repaid my Prayer.
—Warding the weakest Stroke, with swordless Hand,
Swiftly I clos'd, and seiz'd the wrested Steel
From Him whose stronger Arm more nearly press'd me.
Seiz'd it with Lightning's Swiftness: for, Oppression
Rowses Distress, to Vengeance.—On Himself,
I turn'd his pointed Weapon: sav'd my Breast,
And plung'd it in His own.—He fell.—The Other
Started, and curs'd: but, like a Coward, fled,
False to his dying Fellow.—Mighty Queen,
This is the sad short Truth. May the kind Power
I bow'd to, touch your Ear; and move your Pity!

MEROPE.
She were a Tygress, that cou'd hear this Tale,
And pause, upon thy Pardon—Still, go on:
How wer't thou seiz'd? hide Nothing: and hope All.

EUMENES.
Shock'd by uncertain Dread for what was done,
I gaz'd astonish'd round: and mark'd, beneath,
Where, at a Furlong's Distance, the Salt Wave
Broke on the Shore. Sudden I snatch'd the Corps,
And, hast'ning to the Beach, gave it to the Sea.
That done, I sigh'd, and fled: Your Guards, great Queen,
For what escapes such Eyes, as Heaven's, and Yours!
Unseen by me, mark'd all; follow'd, and took me.

MEROPE.
—To Euricles.
Did he resist, when seiz'd?

EUMENES.
I cou'd not, Madam.
The Name of Merope disarm'd my Will.
They told me they were yours. I bow'd, and yielded.
Gave 'em my new-gain'd Sword: and took their Chains.

EURICLES.
This Youth, by Him he kill'd, was judg'd Another.

MEROPE.
Oh! I have noted All: and Heaven was just.
—Retire, to farther Distance, gentle Youth.—
I'll tell thee, Euricles!
Methought, at every Word this Wanderer spoke,
Pity—or Something, tenderer than Pity,
Clung to my aking Heartstrings! nay, 'twas stranger!
For, I will tell thee All.—Cresphontes' Features,
Heav'ns, what Ideas Hopes and Fears can raise!
My dear dead manly Lord's resembled Features;
I saw, and trac'd, (I blush, to think what Folly!)
Trac'd,—in this Cottage Hero's honest Face.

ISMENE.
Compassion is a kind and generous Painter.
—Yet, Truth Herself must grow as blind, as Fortune,
Ere she cou'd look on That unhappy Youth;
And find him less, than worth her kindest Pity.

EURICLES.
Ismene speaks my Thoughts. He's innocent.
The Gods have stamp'd their Mark of Candor on him:
And no Impostor's Art inhabits there.

MEROPE.
(To Eumenes.)
Again, approach me.—In what Part of Greece
Did it please Heaven to give thee Birth, good Youth?

EUMENES.
(Advancing.)
In Elis, generous Queen.

MEROPE.
In Elis.—Tell me.
I hop'd, it had been nearer.—Hast thou, ever,
In thy low Converse, heard the Swains, thy Neighbours,
Mention the Name of Narbas?—or Eumenes?—
—The Last, thou must have heard of.

EUMENES.
Never, Madam.

MEROPE.
Never?—That's strange! what then was thy Condition?
What thy Employment? and thy Father's Name?

EUMENES.
My Father was a Shepherd: learn'd, and wise;
Prince of the Sylvan Shades, and Past'ral Vale,
He led th'attracted Hearts of list'ning Swains,
And pleas'd 'em into Subjects—in himself
Too humble, for Distinction—had not Virtue
Compell'd him into Notice.—
He liv'd un-envied: for, excelling All,
He veil'd superior Eminence, by Modesty:
No claim'd Exemption eas'd his Life from Care:
Peacefully poor! and reverently belov'd!
His fleecy Harvests fed him:—and, his Name
Was Policletes, Madam.

MEROPE.
What thy Own?

EUMENES.
Low, like my past'ral Care—to Cottage Ears
Adapted—and unform'd for your Regard.
—Yet, Elis, oft, may deign to speak of—Dorilas.

MEROPE.
Oh! I have lost my Hope. Heaven mocks Relief:
And every starting Spark is quench'd, in Darkness:
So, then, your Parents held no Rank in Greece?

EUMENES.
Did Rank draw Claim from Goodness, they have Rights
Wou'd leave all Place behind 'em, Inborn Virtue
Can borrow no Enlargement, but lends all
That keeps Contempt from Titles.

MEROPE.
Every Word
He utters has a Charm!—But, Why, at home
So bless'd, and, to such Parents, doubly dear,
Didst thou, forgetful of the Care thou owd'st 'em,
Quit their kind Cott, and leave 'em to their Tears?

EUMENES.
A vain Desire of Glory, first seduc'd me.
Oft had I heard my Father mourn Mycene,
Weep, for her Civil Wars, and suff'ring Queen.
Oft, had He charm'd my young, aspiring, Soul,
With Wonder, at your Firmness!—So, inflam'd,
I learnt, by slow Degrees, to think my Youth
Disgrac'd, by home-felt Virtues: Weigh'd the Call
Of Glory, against Duty; and grew bold
To hope, my humble Arm might add some Aid
To prop your warring Standards.—See! great Queen,
The only Motive of my erring Rashness.
For, Heaven has taught me, tho' it loves your Cause,
I merit my Distress: who left my Father,
Wanting, perhaps, in Age's feeble Calls,
Some Help, I might have lent him.—'Twas a Fault.
But, 'twas my first: And I may live, to mend it.

MEROPE.
[aside.
Methinks, I hear Eumenes—So, my Soul
Informs me, had He known Descent, thus lowly,
So, my Eumenes wou'd have thought, and spoke.
—Such, is his Age, where'er conceal'd he mourns:
Perhaps too, such his Fortune—driven, like This,
From Realm to Realm, a Wand'rer, thus unknown!
Friendless, and hopeless, and expos'd to Poverty!
—I will have Pity, on his Youth's Distress:
And cultivate his Fortune.—What bold Noise?
[Shouts heard without.
Whence can such Rudeness flow!—What is't, Ismene?

ISMENE.
[at a Window.
All Ills are Poliphontes. The vile Rabble
Shout their sure Vote, for Treason. Poliphontes
Is King, proclaim'd—and Hope is now no more.

EUMENES.
Oh! for the Sword, once more, your Guards took from me!
Now, now, I feel these Chains: Now, first, they bind me.

MEROPE.
Give him his Sword. Let him be free, as Air.
Honest Proposer!—but, Thy Help's too weak,
To prop a Throne, in Donger.—

EUMENES.
O, Queen!—forgive Presumption, in the Poor,
When They dare pity Greatness.
All have their Mis'ries—but, when Crowns grow wretched,
'Tis Arrogance, in mean ones, to complain.
[Exit Eumenes.

EURICLES.
Too fatally, I prophesied.—Confess
This hard Necessity: which, now, you find;
And seem, at least, to sooth the Tyrant's Hope.

MEROPE.
I misconceiv'd the Gods. I durst not dream.
They cou'd have bid Guilt thrive: and given up Virtue.

EURICLES.
They will not, Madam.

MEROPE.
So, my sad Heart, still,
Struggles to hope: and, if they mark my Woe,
They will forgive my Rashness.

EURICLES.
Come what must!
I will assemble round you the few faithful,
And, failing to protect, partake your Fall.
[Exit Euricles.