University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—The Carthaginian fleet approaching the coast of Africa. The galley on board which are Hannibal, Silanus, Pilot, &c.
Sil.
The tawny rocks, the yellow light of Afric!
Yon headland like a couching lion lies,
Waiting the spring. The country of thy birth!
I wish thee joy.

Pil.
Wilt thou land here, my lord?

Han.
What place is this? These coasts are strange to me.

Pil.
This spot is desolate—a place of tombs.

Han.
I'll not land here, the omen is not good.
Seek elsewhere, pilot.

Pil.
Westward, then, so please you,
To Leptis we'll direct our course.

Han.
So be it.

Sil.
'Tis not enough thou tenderly avoid'st
To shock thy soldiers with ill auguries;
Thou shouldst bespeak some favourable omen
To wait thy solemn landing on these shores.
Let me be by—I'll find one on the spot.

Han.
[Turning from him to pace the deck.]
I was not near, my brothers! when you fought
Each your last battle, dying in defeat!
Thou, in a thunderstorm of destiny—
And thou, in a more lingering anguish, like
The fitful fever-sorrow of thy life.
O father! thou didst set these lives on fire—
Thou didst not live to see the after-storm
Come pelting on their ashes!
Where is the phœnix that should rise from them?
Be Afric's battle-plains, corpse upon corpse,
Piled with the pride of Scipio ere we part,
It will not give me these two lives again!—
I welcome thee to Africa, Silanus.

[The fleet continues its course along the coast.]