 | Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous |  |
SCENE III.
MAXIMUS and TRAULISTA.Maximus.
Hail, mighty prince of great Hermanric's line!
Is thy sword whetted to avenge thy friends?
Traulista.
No eagle darting down the slaughter'd field
Of human carnage strew'd with mangled limbs,
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Than shall my sword deal thunderbolts around,
Whene'er Petronius wishes for its aid.
Maximus.
But art thou sure that not one traitor lurks,
Nor coward heart in thy selected band?
Traulista.
There's not a man but what would bay the lion,
Or meet the tyger growling from his den,
By hunger urg'd to prowl for human prey.
Or meet the tyger growling from his den,
By hunger urg'd to prowl for human prey.
When Cæsar's dial marks meridian day,
They'll spring to action at the trump of war;
As the train'd steed who snuffs the northern air
Leaps through the crowd, and leaves the winds behind.
They'll spring to action at the trump of war;
As the train'd steed who snuffs the northern air
Leaps through the crowd, and leaves the winds behind.
Maximus.
Have they ne'er trembled at an emperor's frown,
Nor felt the servile homage of a slave?
Will not the valiant arm grow sick and flag,
And the drawn dagger droop e'en in thy hand
As it approaches Valentinian's breast?
Traulista.
Have I not sworn by Mars's fiery sword,
The redden'd symbol of the Scythian faith,
To aid thee to avenge thine injur'd love?
Not Casca's arm e'er gave a surer blow
Than shall Traulista's.
Maximus.
The great Triumvirs of the world have fall'n
By weaker hands than thine—thou art my Cassius—
But I fear Gaudentius—he's of a softer mould—
Humane and tender—though a valiant prince
He feels the softest passion for Eudocia.
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He feels no pang but for Eudocia's sake;
Yet jealousy has wak'd a war within;
Resentment, love, and rage, by turns distract,
And make his soul a chaos of despair.
Maximus.
Will he o'ercome this painful struggle
In a noble breast?—Can he renounce her charms?
When filial tears are leagu'd with just revenge,
When duty, fame, and glory combat love,
Will the fond lover act the hero's part,
And snatch the princess from a rival's arms,
Mid'st blood and slaughter, and the fresh grown yews
His sword may strew around her father's tomb?
Traulista.
Strike, now's the time, before his passions cool.
Maximus.
Will Valentinian venture to the sports?
Traulista.
The emperor comes with more than usual pomp,
A chosen cohort added to the guards.
Maximus.
Though guilt makes cowards, justice finds them out:
Not all the legions of the western world
Shall screen him from my sword, my just revenge.
[Exeunt.
| Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous | |