University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

ASPASIA
—SOLUS.
Ha—Empire! glory! well! the time has been
That love had charms for this Athenian youth!
But now, a prey to wild, ambitious thoughts
He dreams of founding kingdoms on the ruins
Of old Messenia, dreams of future kings
From his Semanthe to descend! O fall
How low! to court a slave! but he, alas
Vain of his splendid talents, holds in scorn
The voice of reason! Little does he think
What means are ours to cross him, when he soars
An eagle-flight to glory! Shall it be
That I must tamely see my ancient right
Seiz'd by another? No—whoever scorns
My prayer, shall feel my power! What! to retire
And, like a votarist, weep in secret cell
My ruin'd fortunes, and my blasted hopes,
Blasted by him! while, with contemptuous pity
To his young bride he tells the hapless tale
Of my disastrous love. What tye, what claim
Compells me to forget such wrongs?—Not Athens
Proud Athens, from whose sanguinary laws
I hardly 'scap'd with life! Nor this new realm
This rising state , beneath the guardian wing
Of Athens to be form'd, can claim from me
Regard or reverence! Shall I stoop to build
A rivals throne, and mourn my abject lot
In low obscurity? Had he adopted
My safe proposal, he, with me had sway'd
Messenia's sceptre.—But I still can shew him
A sample of my power—then if he dare
To thwart me further, if he still persists
In causeless infidelity, and scorns
Those gods that heard his oft repeated vows
Then, Discord, Rage, and Tumult at their heels
Shall mingle with that syren minstrelsie
Which sooths his mind to short, fallacious peace!
Soon shall he hear an unexpected call
To start his soul to madness! This fair slave,
Believ'd the fabling message in the name
Of this young, cruel false one! fraud with fraud
Dissimulation meets her sister fiend
With a like gorgon mask—her passion leads
Semanthe to the snare, and she absconds.—
Her sudden flight awakes Philemon's rage;
By jealousy inspir'd, he turns the blame
On his proud rival, of the seeming rape.
Then, then the buffled lover, in his turn
Might call to memory his forgotten vows!
And—should Semanthe ne'er return, the right
Of old Messenia's royalty reverts
To me, and Athens would afford her aid,
I have th'ascendant o'er this people's minds
Already—then Ambition, Love, Revenge
Were satisfied—but see! Philemon comes
The father—and a stranger! Now my charms
Begin to work.—

[Retires.
Scene Continues.
ARISTODEMUS, ALCIBIADES, PHILEMON, SPARTAN AMBASSADOR, AMPHIDAMAS, and HELOTS.
ARISTODEMUS
—TO THE AMBASSADOR.
We doubt thee not. Thou bear'st the proper ensigns
Of thine authority—our fears extend
Far beyond thee.—Of Lacedemon's faith
We now dispute not, nor their solemn oaths
Nor leagues, pretend to question—their demeanour
To others, nought imports to us. We know
(Fallen as we are beneath the rank of men)
That we are far too mean to hope or trust
To peace on equal terms. Do shepherds deign
To make alliance with the curs that tend
Their flocks? or bind themselves in solemn league
To mend their offals, or remit their stripes?—
They do not think us worthy that respect
Due to their fellow creatures, had not fear
Taught them another lesson! and shall we
Trust to their solemn oaths, tho' doubly bound
By all the burning thrones beneath the deep?

Spar.
Helot, you have your choice! it ill becomes
A Spartan, like a fuppliant slave, to bend
To any power on earth, much less to thine
Come thou, or Athens to our gates at once
With new conditions, on the lances point
We give an answer!

Arist.
Tarry yet awhile—
The crisis calls not such resolves—to me
Now bending to the tomb, my passions cool'd
By age's wintry hand, it scarce belongs
To undertake, at such a time, the charge
Of a high-spirited nation, yet my counsels
May serve to mitigate the headlong haste
Of thoughtless youth. Thy reasons have been heard
And now our friend of Athens claims his time
To speak—our Helots then shall arbitrate
The question for themselves—their liberty
(If ever independence be their lot)
Must be no fleeting shadow, no proud name
No glittering phantom to beguile their grasp!
It must be palpable, well known, secure
Founded on the broad base of full consent
Not to be shaken by the potent breath
Of foreign tyrants or domestic pride—
Now speak, Athenian!

Alcib.
Well didst thou conclude
Thy charge, old man! the spirit of our state,
That liberal energy that warms our counsels
Already glows in each Messenian breast,
A people, in deliberation join'd
With their elected king! What more remains
Than—let them boldly speak their thoughts and tell
If they will longer crouch beneath the scourge
Of their proud lords, and bear the cumbrous load
Of insults, wounds, and death; or strike at once
At the tall fabric of Laconian pride,
Nor wait the tardy and deliberate hand
Of time, to sweep the mighty columns down
—The very moment warns—if now they lose
The golden opportunity, let sleep
Oblivious, ever seize them! Now the tide
Returning with full sway, beneath the rule
Of time and stern necessity, invites
The spreading sail! nor let the louring threat
Of gathering storms, deter the daring keel
From this distinguish'd voyage! now the flag
Of Athens leads to freedom, and to fame!
The man, who trembles at the summer, cloud
That wanders o'er the main, nor dares to loose
His cautious anchor, ne'er will reach the coast
Where glory calls him to her opening fane!
—Then why delay? Will yon diurnal lamp
Arrest his burning wheels, till you resolve
To seize the precious moment? Will the seasons
Obey your call in their perennial dance?
Does rain or sunshine bless your waving fields
At your request? or do your harvests bend
Whene'er you chuse to reap the golden grain?
No—in continual revolution still
The stormy and serene in turn succeed.
And all our earnest supplications fail
To check the stern approach of rugged winter
With all his furious flaws!—'Tis so with you!
Your glorious harvest now is ripe, and calls
For the keen sickle. But, if torpid sloth
Or smooth persuasion slack the nerve of steel
Or ease delude, perhaps to-morrow's sun
Brings the contagious mildew, or the storm
That lays your hopes all waste!—Oh—if a thought
Worthy of men, has ever warm'd your breasts!
If ye are aught above the herds that graze—
Employ the moment!—nay, the beasts that range
The woods, despise the yoke, and, on the man
Who madly ventures on their gloomy walks
Glare independence and disdain! they know
How, on the foreseen danger, to prepare
The means to guard their young: they want the power
Of combination, and of mutual aid
Yet they preserve their liberty! they claim
The forest, and the den their own! they spurn
The chain, and when they fall, in open fight
They breathe away their generous souls! But ye
Possess the means they want, by mutual signs
Each others thoughts to know, to calculate
Each others strength, and brood for years before
On the great scheme of vengeance and of glory;
These are prerogatives of men, they're yours
If ye be men!

Amph.
We are,—but give us arms
And you shall find us in the bloody fields
No mean allies,—we do not boast the blood
Of Hercules in vain!—

Alcib.
Ye shall not want them—
Brave men! ye shall not want the means to meet
Your haughty foes,—our fleet that rides at hand
Waits but the signal to disbark her stores
And furbish all your files, that your own groves
Shall wonder at your glory, when ye run
In full career along your gloomy glades
And glitter to the day, like the young snake
That casts her old disguise in early spring
And o'er the green sward rolls in spiry pride
A rival to the sun! The fearful swain
Flies his approach, and runs to shelter near.
So will the Spartans tremble at the view
When first your glittering files become the field!

Spar.
The Spartans never tremble; they may fall—
But dreadful is their fall, even to their foes.

Alcib.
That will be seen, when Athens to the field
Sends your revolted subjects!

Phil.
to Alcib.
Yes—to fight
Your battles—think not, proud Republican,
With all your fire-new gloss of eloquence
To varnish o'er our shame! Low as we are
Better to be the thralls of Sparta still
Than tools of haughty Athens! we, 'tis true
Too deeply feel the cruel, galling chain,
And many years have bent us to the yoke!
But fate, and ill success in arms, impos'd
The hard conditions! we, before we feel
Try'd the decision of the spear, but now
You bid us change our master, by the name
Of liberty, beguil'd! Such is our change!
For our hereditary lords, a crowd
Of proud Athenian artizans: the sport
Of every faction, whose imperious vote
Might plunge us in the mines beyond the hope
Of day? And now what glorious privilege
Is ours? ye give us arms, ye nobly grant
The post of danger—on the fearful edge
Of battle you dispose us first, to blunt
The keen Laconian blade, and labour down
The first dread onset of the Spartan spear!
They waste their fury on their slaves, and come
Like a spent tyger on your level'd pikes
An easy conquest. What does Sparta grant?
The privilege of kinsmen, all the dues
Of the Heraclidæ!—Her choicest bands
Wait our enrollment in the files—from you
We gain an empty title of allies
To gild our chains!—but let the nations tell—
Go—summons from the isles their envoys here
They once were crown'd with liberty—let them
Proclaim the blessed fruits of your alliance
Taxation, robbery, violence and chains,
Whate'er the ruffian in his rage inflicts!
—Oh gracious heaven! are we reduc'd so low
As to renounce the whip and madly chuse
The chastisement of scorpions in its stead?

Alcib.
Who is this talker?—is it thus, Messenians?
Ye suffer your sound reason to be warped
By words without a meaning? your resolves
Turn'd to the lane of children, by the breath
Of a proud demagogue?

Phil.
Is that your plea?—
Now see, as in a mirrour, how your state
Is sway'd by factious breath! perhaps to day
You vote us allies, and to-morrow, slaves,
Just as the sky is louring or serene
And a debauch, or surfeit sours your speakers.
Or bribes allure them!

Alcib.
Heavens! what demons rule
Our counsels now! O that the gods awhile
Would stop the wheel of fate, whose mighty sway
Bears down with it the Spartan state! We then
From all the broad Ionian! and the isles
From this to Asia, could produce such witness
As soon would send the falsehood to the source
That bred it!

Phil.
Yes,—we know the means too well—
Nor make a question of your will, to bring
False witnesses to sanction with their oaths
Whatever you suggest. But say, thou traitor
To public faith! What specimens already
Have you not given us of your perfidy?
You, an Ambassador, the public guardian
Of a whole people's honour, thus, to lure
A virgin from her home!—It calls aloud
For vengeance! vengeance!

Arist.
Why this rage, my son!
What has provoked such language! quickly tell
What meanst thou!

Phil.
Too, too well my bursting tears
Proclaim my meaning, and thy deep disgrace—
Bid him,—yet ere he sends for delegates
From the confederate isles to vouch his truth—
—Bid him produce thy daughter!

Arist.
He—my daughter!
Is she not safe within my lodge?

Phil.
That, time
Will tell!—send to thy home, and seek her there
Where I have sought in vain and—if she's found
Call me a felon! an Athenian! one
Who underneath the consecrated mask
Of hospitality, with worse than sacrilege
Plunders his host of his most valued gem!

Alcib.
By all the gods—by Nemesis and Jove
Whoe'er thou art, thou wrong'st me, but I go—
The terms, which you contemn, our conquering state
Needs not to force on any! Tell thy tribes
She needs not Helots aid!

[Going.
Arist.
Yet stay, Athenian!
You move not hence—but, as an hostage here
We keep thee till my daughter's found

[Seizing him.
Alcib.
To thee:—
Hostage to thee! instant unhand me, slave!
Or I will crush thee into dust!

Arist.
Indeed
We yet are slaves, but soon, without the help
Of Athens, we are called to lift our names
With Spartans, and with men! If Sparta oft
Wrong'd us, her wrongs were mixt with conscious night;
Imperious, haughty as she was, she durst not
Show the bold brow of injury by day
Which thou, a delegate from Athens sent,
Hast dar'd to do!

Alcib.
When thro' your gloomy groves
Rages the hostile flame, when you behold
Your hamlets smoaking, and your slaughter'd sons,
Remember this!—your masters then in vain
Will battle for their servants! These proud Spartans
Already for fidelity and truth
So fam'd! you thought not so, when in contempt
Of their late edict, brave Alcander fell,
Fell, by a midnight ruffian!

Phil
He, perhaps!
By his precipitation earn'd his fate!—
Had he but seen this day, thou hadst not now
Presum'd as thou hast done! thy boiling blood
Had paid for poor Semanthe's wrongs! Semanthe!
Produce her! Traitor! Where hast thou conceal'd
Thy theft? produce her! or this dagger drinks
Thy gore!

Alcib.
Some demon sure, the friend of Sparta
Confounds your minds!

Phil.
Think not with smooth address
To baulk our just resentment!—or produce
The virgin, or thou diest!—Why do I rave?—
Perhaps her voluntary flight attends
Thy faithful envoy to the Attic coast—
And shall I waste my life in sighs for her?
O father, pardon me!

Arist.
Afflicted youth!
Be patient! she, perhaps, may still be found,
She is not missing long.

Phil.
Too plain I saw
Her alienated mind! Too soon I mark'd
The signs of soft, seductive art! smooth villain!
This dagger soon shall thank you for the deed!

[Going to stab him.
Arist.
interfering.
Yet hold! rash man! is this your vow'd respect
For me, to violate this pledge, to me
Committed? yet perhaps you know not all

[As the struggle continues, enter Alcander, they all stand amazed.
Arist.
Alcander! dost thou live? or art thou sent
From the blest realms to save our hands from blood?
Oh! do not mock us with unreal hope—
But say thou art my son!

Alc.
I am, I am,
Father, Philemon! my assembled friends!
All wondrous as it seems to see me here
You do not bend your eyes upon a shape
Form'd of the passing air. Behold, and feel
It is Alcander's self!

Arist.
[Embracing him.]
Mysterious powers!
We saw thee dead! we saw thee stretch'd along
The flaming funeral pile! how cam'st thou here?
How shall we trust our eyes, that saw your corse
All mangled o'er with wounds! yet view thee now
Exulting in proud youth and health! Say, is it
A dream! explain the miracle?

Alc.
Most easy!—
A proud, vindictive man, Androcles nam'd,
(Whom you may well remember, my free words
At old Amyclæ's fane incenst,) pursued
My homeward steps beneath the rising moon.—
I was beforehand—for I fear'd his purpose
And soon a trusty few in ambush laid
Who gave him death, for me design'd! our hands
In my known vesture soon disguised the dead
And scar'd his face, to keep him long unknown
And pass him for an Helot, (as his friends
Were potent, proud, vindictive as the fiends)
While in his Spartan garb I meant to 'scape,
His brother Phæbidas, along the lawns
With purpose to prevent him, had pursued
His steps, but came too late, a chosen band
Of Spartans follow'd him, their eager search
Soon found me, with the recent marks of blood.
Soon was I known—expecting instant death
I stood collected. But, when pious grief
For his fallen brother had given way, he spoke
In milder mood “I know my brother's rage
“Rose high, and nought but blood could quench the flame.
“Helot, I doubt not, in thine own defence
“You struck the blow. But shew me where his corse
“Is now dispos'd.” My friends had borne him thence
Nor could he, by our strictest search, be found.

Arist.
Not on Alcander, but Androcles then
Our honours were bestow'd! Mysterious heaven.
A slaughter'd Spartan fills the regal urn!—
His ashes slumber with our Kings! but who
Was conscious to the deed? will none reveal
The secret? would our Helots see me spend
Our sacred, incommunicable rites
On the fallen carcase of a foe?

Amph.
To me
The blame is due. 'Twas I the counsel gave.
'Twas I that led the party; hear my plea,
Condemn then if you can! I knew Alcander
Was led a captive, and my public love
Led me to fear, lest, were his bondage known
'Twould quash our high resolves and make us pause
Even on the spur of onset, much I fear'd
His precious life might buy ignoble peace—
I gave the counsel. I, by threats and prayers
Bound the important secret on the souls
Of that nocturnal party, till some blow
Were struck, for freedom, and for fame.

Alc.
By heavens
My generous friend! I thank thee! may my deeds
Answer your lofty expectations!

Arist.
Tell
O tell, how could you 'scape immediate death?

Alc.
He thought me stubborn, and, in harsher tone
“Thou must with me, to answer as thou may'st
“A deed so daring, else a brother's ghost
“Would wander unaveng'd!” It nought avail'd
For me to struggle with my fate. Confin'd
In dungeon gloom, I long expected death—
At last the moment came, that gave me life
And liberty at once.

Amph.
To Phil.

Phil.
Rancorous slave!
Did not this presence awe me, soon thy tongue
Tho' agonizing in the pangs of death
Should own thy hireling eloquence procur'd
By Attic gold or promises!

Arist.
Be calm
I charge you both—your frenzy interrupts
A tale might claim attention from the grave.

Alc.
Something, the grave alone shall know, remains—
Meantime, behold me here, free as the winds!—
Without condition, bond, or oath, releas'd
From death, to glad my friends, to lead, them on
To conquest, if they dare the glorious toil!

Alcib.
Dare they? with Athens at their head, the gods
Alone, shall point the limits of their claims.

Alc.
They best can tell their limits and their claims!
Their prowess and their aids! but there are limits
The checks of mind, which, like a magic spell
Confine the warriours arm, and bind it fast
As yonder trees, long wedded to the soil!
Such are the links that drag me back to Sparta,
Free as I seem; Free as the birds that sport
In yonder boughs! But there are bonds, my friend,
(Strong as the linked adamant) that chain
The stern, relentless spirit to its purpose.

Arist.
What means my son? what tyes?

Alc.
Justice and honour.
Honour, the sole possession, which is left
Thy ruin'd house. I prize it though, beyond
The mines of Asia!

Arist.
What a strain is this,
That soars so high above the sober tenor
Of mortal things! Explain yourself, my son!

Alc.
I have a friend in bonds—I will not live
To have a father blush to see his son
Breathe out his life, a forfeit to the laws
Of honour, with a vile deserter's name!

Arist.
Must I then loose thee! late so lost, so found
O spare thy father's aged locks! Too much
Already have I borne! But this were death,
Distraction!

Alc.
Oh! my father! can I live
And see the man that sav'd me, fall a victim!
Sav'd me, from worse than death, from torture! shame,
And vile exposure after death, deny'd
The rites of funeral?—No! Amphidamas!
Thou never shalt reproach me with the name
Of traitor to my fame. Even thou thyself
Mayst take Philemon's place and mine, if fate
Forbids him to be trusted!

Arist.
Say, what friend?—
How grew the strange dilemma? are no means
In heaven or earth allow'd us yet to solve
This gordian knot, and save you?

Alc.
None, but such
As you would spurn!—my generous friend is doom'd,
Doom'd, in my stead, to drain the bitter bowl
Which I expected.

Arist.
Curst alternative!—
How could thy friend deserve it? did he give
A volunteer, his life for thine?

Alc.
Enflam'd
By patriot love, be, self-devoted, falls.
For Sparta, if her tutelary gods
Protect her not, and spare his valued life!

Alcib.
Aside.
Devoted men! I see your headlong fall
To ruin, and the moment seize, while doubt
And perturbation hold your senses bound
To steal from the approaching storm.

[Exit.
Arist.
Is nought
In possibility's wide range, to save
His precious life, and yours? O tell me who
And what he is?

Alc.
The brother of the man
Who sought my life! he had me in his power
And tho' both Piety and Vengeance call'd
For retribution, yet he would not strike
(Such his regard to Justice) as he knew
His brother rush'd upon his fate, and call'd
The deadly blow. He must not, shall not dye
I will not breath on such conditions—no—
Farewell my father, ye, my friends, farewell!
And thou! Amphidamas! with constant care
Cherish the vestal flame, and bid it burn
Conspicuous, bright, as that which fires the souls
Of your confederate Athens!

Alc.
Oh, my son,
Did you not say, but now, that, should you fall,
His life could not be sav'd? And must you perish
In vain? Must poor Messenia's royal blood
Be sold for nought?

Alc.
Alas! my hapless father!
He falls a victim to th'infernal gods,
With solemn rites devoted for the weal
Of Sparta! If the powers below receive
The sacrifice, with omens good; our fall
Is the dire consequence, unless a life
For you devoted, stop the fearful chasm
That opens to receive us! Can I fall
More glorious than for you, for liberty,
For glory? Judge for me, Amphidamas,
Plead with my father! Bid him throw aside
The timid feelings of a partial sire,
And glow, the patriot, and the upright judge,
Unprejudic'd, unpassion'd! I, like him,
Devote me for my country! Be my fame,
My deathless fame, your new-adopted heir,
And cherish it for me!

Arist.
Oh! yet my friends!
Amphidamas! assist me to detain him!—
Will ye permit your hero to return
To certain fate?

Helots.
No—no—Our lives shall answer
For his!

Alc.
Retire! my inconsiderate friends!
Your kindness pains me. I must not be held,
You may detain my body, but my soul
Shall force its way!

Phil.
Is there no means allow'd?

Amph.
Alcander's self
Mention'd but now, some other means!

Alc.
Yes—means
Which you would be the first, Amphidamas,
To spurn!

2 Hel.
Amphidamas! and what is he,
That he should sway our fixt resolves? We own
No other but Alcander for our lord,
After Aristodemus! We request
With one assent, Alcander to declare
What he proposes!

Alc.
It requires no sage
To guess the means! Oh father! Oh ye Helots!
Could ye forget your wrongs, could ye but know
The deep distress of Sparta, hem'd around
By foes at every pass, ye would relent,
And join your bands to her's!

Amph.
Is it then so?—
But fate has seal'd my lips.

Alc.
Let reason weigh
Our merits, and our wrongs! the blest effects
Of unexpected love, where Discord rag'd;
And Gratitude's strong tyes, should we relent!

Amph.
I'll speak, altho' I perish.—Say, Alcander,
What reason have we to confide in them,
The ruling passion of whose lives has been
But the continuance of unvary'd wrong,
Oppression, murther, persidy, and lust?

Alc.
Send them a bold defiance! let my life
Victim for victim, please the nether gods
And gain conspicuous omens for the cause
Of liberty and Athens!

Helots.
No—no—no
No royal blood shall fall to please the powers
Beneath—a meaner victim must suffice.

Arist.
What hostage do they give to prove their faith?

Alc.
They set me free, when in their power!

Arist
What oath?
Have they appeal'd to any of the gods
The founders of our common race?

Alc.
They have—
Their Ephori before th'infernal gods
With dreadful imprecations bound their souls
To give us freedom, to inroll our youth
( Rais'd to the rank of Sparta's men at arms)
In fam'd Laconia's bands—if you refuse
This offer, nought remains, but I return
To pay that forfeit life which honour claims!

Arist.
The people never will permit such proof
Of your high spirit—but what document
What public bond and signature confirm'd
By due authority will you produce
Of this alliance?

Alc.
Be th'alliance void
Unless they give the solemn witness'd bond!

Amph.
Can reconcilement dwell with countless wrongs?

Alc.
And what would be th'effect of vengeance, say—
But propagated vengeance, blood and death
From sire to son deriv'd; if they could 'scape
Impending ruin now? Should Sparta fall
Would our condition be improv'd? our All
Would then depend on Athens! say, could we
Hope for a better station in her favour
Than the subjected isles that mourn her yoke
All o'er the wide Ægean? Nay, our state
Were worse! We have no boistrous waves to guard
Our trembling shores, but, hem'd with hostile tribes,
Must live in trepidation, or subside
To the dead level of our fellow slaves
To slavery worse than now! But should we chuse
The nobler province, to return, for wrongs,
For violence, for treachery, and blood.
Protection, friendship, in the dreadful hour
When Sparta, trembling, looks to us for succour
The genial seed of virtue would produce
Immortal fruit! the tide of gratitude
Would flow for ever, like Eurotas stream!
The glorious deed would melt their stubborn souls
Like fire to steel, and mould them into men,
Else they were monsters, savages, unfit
To live in harmony with men! The ills
That, with close siege have hem'd them long around
Ere now, have low'r'd their haughty crests, and taught
The lessons of humanity—if not,
They have less feeling than those aged trunks
That own the touch of heaven's ætherial ray
And spread their lofty honours to the gale!

Amph.
Must we confide in this precarious test?
On this uncertain plank embark our all?
Where does this worth, this gratitude reside
On which we must rely?

Alc.
In Phæbidas!

2 Helot.
Enough—enough—proceed, we all attend.

Alc.
Let us then, in the presence of the gods
That smile on virtue, try upon our friends
Nobly, the great experiment! do we
Wish to subdue them?—Let us aim the blow
Not at their bodies, but their minds—if still
They feel not in their souls the generous deed
They would defy the thunder—nay, the powers
Of heaven, in dreadful synod met above
Would muster all the enginry of heaven
And in one general explosion, send
Such miscreants from the world!

Amph.
Shouldst thou prevail
And they for our beneficence, return
Their usual contumely, how could you
'Midst Helots, lift your head, or dare to plead
For Sparta, or yourself?

Alc.
This life should pay
The forfeit to this hand!—remember, friend!
I am devoted still, if sad reverse
Demands the sacrifice!

Phil.
And why mistrust
So much Alcides', mighty line yet place
Such confidence in Athens? they, be sure
Would still regard with no benignant eye
Revolted slaves, that might revolt again
Slaves, long devoted to their Dorian foes
By blood, and inclination. Virtue still To Alc.

Survives in Sparta, while thy saviour lives
Else, how dost thou survive? The dark attempt
Against thy life, was but a private wrong
Unsanction'd by the state. To milder thoughts,
Misfortunes and the numerous ills that wait
On life, have tam'd them. Let us, then confirm
Their faltering steps in virtue! lead them on
Like the paternal eagle who divides
The fleeting air before her callow young
And bids them ride the clouds! Thus we shall gain
The proud ascendant in the lists of fame;
And after times, with long applause shall tell
How the Laconians, in the lists of blood
Distinguish'd long above a warring world
Rais'd their proud heads, while in her sanguine car
Bellona led them on, and chanted loud
The song of desolation. But their slaves
Taught them a nobler lesson, open'd wide
A brighter track to glory, bade them cast
Those ruffian virtues to the midnight wolves
And learn humanity.

Arist.
It is a perilous venture—if we fail
Ruin attends on both!

Alc.
And be our fall
Illustrious, rather by a noble daring
(Tho' unsuccessful) for the Dorian name
Than here to live for ever stigmatiz'd
As traitors, as deserters to the cause
Of our old enemies of Ion's race
Union abhorr'd! but, if we still remain
True to this fostering soil, that fed us long
Our native walks, true to ourselves, our fame
We must defend, (even with our dearest blood)
This remnant of the great Herculean name
A suppliant now for succour! Shall we stand
Insensate, while a new Deucalion's flood
For ever whelms the better light of Greece?
Forbid it, Honour! and forbid it, Fame!
Forbid it Thou! whose heavenly guidance here
Planted the Spartan, and Messenian race
Fraternal branches, in those happy fields
Till discord rose between them!

Amph.
Shall we then
Fawn, like the beaten spaniel, on the hand
Rais'd for correction? Say, would this become
The race of Hercules? He suffer'd woes
'Tis true, but woes inflicted by the gods
He did not labour for the cruel king
That slew his children! Mention not the gods—
The gods have planted vengeance in our hands
Arm'd us with their consuming bolts, and we
Shall we, like children, fly with terrour back
From the celestial shaft, as if we fear'd
To wield heaven's enginry, and boldly hurl
Her vengeance on their heads? 'Tis vengeance; vengeance!
That sets the man above the grazing herd
And show his native energy of soul!
For what was memory given, but to record
Our wrong? or reason, but to guard against
Such wrongs in future? What, the powers of fancy.
But, in their proper colours to display them?

Alc.
A noble sentiment! but here misplac'd
It shows the man, I show the greater means
That bids him rank with gods. Forgiveness, friend,
That marks true magnanimity of soul
Above the lion, and the lynx; for they
Have spirits for revenge; and, rankling deep
Wrongs in the glowing fancy oft survive
For many a sullen year, but we are men!
Let us a nobler vengeance seize! a deed
To tinge their haughty fronts with honest shame!
Let us subdue their souls, more glorious far
Than mere subjection of the shackled limbs
Now may we to such heights of virtue rise
To such an awful pitch, as Sparta's sons
Shall never dare to wrong their benefactors
And deem it equal sacrilege to strike
At us, as if they meant to wound the gods!

3 Helot.
I doubt their faith—and yet I still confide
In Athens for her aid, if Sparta dare
Her insults to renew!

Amph.
How, Athens aid us!
When we renounce her league! futile and false!

Arist.
Cease—for behold the delegate of heaven
Apollo's priest himself in suppliant garb,
Comes, with the ensigns of his god—revere
The holy man! ye Helots!—with respect
Receive him.

Enter the PRIEST of APOLLO—the HELOTS make obeisance.
Priest.
Be these the signs of your obedient souls
To the great name of the far-darting god
That god, who clad in humble weeds, like you
Erst kept Admetus flock, a simple swain;
Who toil'd beneath Laomedon, to build
The walls of Troy, and met a foul return,
Who knew th'indignity and scorn of men.
Tho' rob'd in flame, he walks the ætherial road!
Yet he, that felt such wrongs, and feels them still
By me requires you to relent and save
The state of Sparta—Great Alcides sues
To guard the reliques of his race, else all
Must, with the sons of old Laconia, perish—
For what are you, and that Crissæan band
(Should Lacedæmon sink in night) to keep
The Dorian name alive? When yonder god
(Whose glorious presence o'er your eastern hills
Awoke the woodland choiristers); at eve
Beyond the broad Ionian dips his wheels.
Say, can a little twinkling lamp of heaven
A pensionary planet, on the verge
Of day, with dim and ineffectual fire
Repell the slow-wing'd dragons of the night
That drag her curtain'd car? even such were ye
When Sparta sets in blood, to rise no more!—
Oh! then, obedient to the will of heaven
Unite your fate to hers! I see your strength
Assembled here. O let it be to aid us!

Arist.
Chosen from our tribes, two thousand valiant youths
Not inexpert in martial exercise
But wait the word to arm: their delegates
Shall answer for themselves!

Phil.
May yonder gods
Forbid, that Dorians, tho' opprest with wrongs
Should part from Dorians, and with impious hand
Destroy themselves and us!

Amph.
Flamen! before
We answer, name your terms!

Priest.
Your leader has them
And that they shall be granted, be yon god
The witness!
Ye shall this instant be enroll'd among
The martial, free-born sons of Sparta's state
Vested with every privilege that lifts
The slave to match his lord! The man that claims
His rank in battle, from that hour is free,
A slave no more! the rest is outward form
But needful, with lustration pure to purge
The servile stain away!

Phil.
Then, what remains
But, give us arms, and try if we can wield
A Dorian lance?

Priest.
In yon deep vale below
Where, 'mongst embowring woods, with unseen lapse
Eurotas echoes thro' th'opposing rocks
And fills with reverential awe profound
The musing votarist, in the rustic fane
Of him , (who deals involuntary fears
Along the nerves, and sees the demon band
Of griesly terrours dancing to his pipe
In soul-astounding gambola), pil'd there lies
A magazine of arms, to mighty Pan—
From Argos won when erst our arms repell'd
The Thyrean's wild invasion. There you'll find
Selected, holy hands, to deal around
The dazzling spoils among your willing bands
And send you glittering thro' your native woods
Startling your Dryads with the glorious change
They scarce will know their shepherds!

Phil.
But, behold!
What stranger's that, who comes with looks of haste
And draws our chief aside?

Amph.
Whate'er it be
Our common danger, and our common claims
Forbid all secrecy—divulge your message
To all, or none!

Arist.
Stranger! my private ear
Hears no proposal to my friends unknown!
Their cause and mine are one, the crisis now
All secrecy forbids, and even excludes
Deliberation! on the common voice
Of those brave youths, for instant action leagu'd
Our fame, our fortune, and our all depends!

Mess.
Is there no man, whose sovereign voice compells
The multitude? and must I hazard all
In giving breath to that which brings along
(When known) the fate of nations?

2 Helot.
To that youth [Pointing to Alcander.

Apply! his influence o'er our sylvan tribes
Is uncontroll'd! whatever he decides
Messenia follows.

[Messenger whispers Alcander.
Alc.
Never! Helot! never!
What! must we court perdition! fling away
Our scheme of reconcilement, like a toy
Of little value, to preserve a band
By folly led to ruin?

Mess.
Led by you!
Led by your promise! since I must divulge
Your shame, before your Helots!—lur'd by leagues
And oaths, now violated, we forsook
Our homes, to fight your battles! now we stand
Perhaps on ruin's verge, for you, unless
You instant thro' yon forest force your way
And mount the steep (where, in the yawning pass
Laconia's sons oppose us) and hurl down
Perdition on their heads? Ye need no weapons
But those loose rocks, that, with tremendous frown
Threaten the vale!

Alc.
We must not risque for them
Our dawning hopes—they fail'd us in our need!

Amph.
Will you forget your leagues? ye Helots! say!
Speak for yourselves!

Priest.
Aside.
All, all, I fear, is lost.
Event accurst!

Alc.
The Helots may decide!—
For me—my doom's determin'd! If they join
The band of Helice, my fate is fixt!—
I will not live to see my best friend's life
Given, a devoted sacrifice for me!—
Messenia has her victim too, to buy
Prosperity for blood!

Helots.
No—never—never.
Thou shalt not die for us. We go—where'er
You point the way.

Mess.
And dare you baffle thus
Your friends? Ungrateful men! No single victim
Atones for this! If Lacedæmon fall
Athens and we with terrible revenge
Will sweep your confines. Now, even now, perhaps,
The dread chastisement of a broken league,
In yonder clouds awaits you. Mark your doom!

[Exit
Amph.
Aside.
Then, ye devoted men! to ruin go!
It is not mine to check you! Why should I
Draw premature destruction on myself.
Vain ruin! Fate is now in full career,
For yonder, see! where Demaratus comes;
What mean his wild looks, and his breathless signs? To them a HELOT.

Ye are betray'd! Around yon woods I saw
The banded Spartans march in complete steel;
Even now they line the grove!

Arist.
Send, and observe!
Now, surely now, at this important crisis,
They would not venture to infringe their faith,
And on themselves accumulate the plagues
To treason due!

[Helots in confusion.
Priest.
Stay a single moment
Till rumour yields to truth!

2 Hel.
Lead to the fane,
The Argive trophies there will arm our hands,
Or to repel the persidy of friends,
Or front the public foe!

Priest.
Stay but a moment!

Amph.
What counsel's this? Thou canst not surely mean
They should be found defenceless, when the hour
May prove their last!

Priest.
Say, Helot, am I here
Your hostage? Is my life within your power,
And dare I utter falsehood? I that own
The power of him whose piercing eye pervades
The secrets of the darkest soul? Yet wait.—
—A moment may determine.

Enter a SPARTAN.
Phil.
Oh, in haste,
Ye Helots! fly to arms! the foes advance,
We spy their dust afar!
Yon little remnant of despairing Spartans
Take their last farewell of the golden day,
Last of the Dorian name, if ye refuse
To join their band!

Phil.
That is the train, whose march
Inspir'd the panic terror.

Alc.
to the Helots.
Join the foe!
And they will thank you; but will never trust
Revolting slaves! That proud and popular state,
So free at home, with servile bonds abroad,
Her partizans repays.

Helots.
Lead on! Lead on!
We go where'er you call! We are not savages,
But men!

[Amph. and some Helots consult apart.
Arist.
[March to music—Some stay behind.

Amph.
I want not arms
From Pan! No causeless terrors are my dread!
Tho' here I mean to stay. My friends suspect
The presents of an enemy. The foe,
Perhaps, is there already.

Arist.
Oh! thou dastard,
When they return, besure thou shalt abide
A dreadful censure.

Amph.
Better from my friends
Than foes. For, what could be my hopes if there
I join'd our lords, but jealousy or hate,
(For well they know I hate them) or a post
Perhaps, of certain death? But, if I stay,
And—if my fears be true—a remnant still
Is left to keep Messenia's name alive!
If I have wrong'd our masters, this grey head
Alone shall pay the forfeit! Heaven forefend
The ills I augur! Be thou witness, Heaven!
Whatever woes invade our rising state,
They are not mine to answer. Wait th'event.

[Exeunt severally.