University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

VALENTINIAN and HERACLIUS.
Valentinian.

Heraclius.
No superstitious dread should ere pervade
The royal bosom of a Roman prince;
Encircled deep by faithful veteran bands
Who wait his fiat, and observe his nod,
To feed his pleasures, or to blast his foes;
To light the capitol, or guard the state,
Or make the empire tremble at his frown.

Valentinian.
The noble Ætius, of princely birth,
Possess'd a soul by Roman valour warm'd,
That won the plaudits both of friends and foes;
The legions lov'd—the citizens ador'd,
And all will murmur at his sudden fall:
Yet more I fear Petronius's rage,
Than all the city, senators, or troops.

Heraclius.
Thou hast done well to cut a traitor down
Ere he usurp'd and rob'd thee of a throne;
And if plebeian, or patrician tongues,
Should utter menace, or a plaintive word,
Teach them the fate of Rome hangs on thy will.

Valentinian.
But where is Maximus?
Though he's in friendship, gen'rous and sincere,
Yet injur'd once, implacably he hates:
'Twou'd beggar language to describe his pride,
His strength of passion when arous'd to rage;
Inexorable vengeance tears his soul
Constant and noble, as a god he loves,
But as a furious fiend, rewards his foes;
Nought but their death can cool his passions down.

Heraclius.
Petronius Maximus returns no more
To interrupt the pleasures of the court:
Ardelia dead—the funeral pile burnt down—
Her ashes gather'd in a golden urn;
He in despair has left the imperial city.
Beside the margin of the Tuscan shore,
In a small villa of the Anician name,
He's gone to weep his folly and his fate.

Valentinian.
Where are his friends?—his num'rous train of clients?
Where the admiring crowds fed by his hand,
And basking in his wealth?

Heraclius.
Just as the world in ev'ry age have done,
Paying their court where better fortune smiles;
'Tis not the sun, when muffled up in clouds
And plunging down the western briny main
Mankind adore.
The eastern monarch just from Thetis' bed,
With rosy blushes on his morning beams,
Majestick rising o'er the burnish'd world,
Beholds his homagers on ev'ry side;
As in the field of Mars amid the sports,
The son of Theodotius, is a god.

Valentinian.
Yet anguish tears, and love inflames my breast;
Oh! would oblivion wrap a sable veil
O'er my remorse, and o'er Ardelia's grief,
O'er her bright form, and her untimely death,
I might defy the vengeance of her lord:
Methinks I see her lovely tearful eye
With scornful glances fir'd—till grief and fear,
And consternation numb my torpid frame.

Heraclius.
Why should an emperor fear?

Valentinian.
Say, where's Gaudentius?

Heraclius.
He, swift of foot as an Herulian archer,
Escap'd my sword, and shelters in the camp;
But after him—with thy express command—
A trusty messenger I have dispatch'd:
This night his sire may meet him in the shades.

Valentinian.
Where is Traulista—prince of the Ostrogoths,
Dauntless and brave—his first—his chosen friend?

Heraclius.
Gone to Liguria with the son of Ætius;
He lov'd him much.

Valentinian.
Then let him share his fate.

Heraclius.
Leave them to me, and chase thy cares away;
The sports are ready—guarded every post,
And while the victims in the Circus bleed,
Smile that thy foes on the same moment fall.

Valentinian.
Hafte to the field of Mars—there I'll forget,
A pang e'er touch'd my heart.

Heraclius.
There learn all Rome—
That if they brave the mandates of thy lip,
A sov'reign's arm shall punish as it ought.

[Exeunt.