University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

TIME.—THE MORNING OF THE SECOND DAY.
[The Terrace of the Palace.]
[Two Soldiers on guard.]
1 SOLDIER.
A stirring season, comrade! our new prince
Has leap'd as eagerly into his seat
As he had languish'd an expectant heir
Weary of nature's kindness to old age.
He was esteem'd a modest stripling;—strange
That he should, with unusual hurry, seize
The gaudy shows of power.

2 SOLDIER.
'Tis honest nature;
The royal instinct was but smouldering in him,
And now it blazes forth. I pray the gods
He may not give us cause to mourn his sire.

1 SOLDIER.
No more; he comes.

[Enter Ion.]
ION.
Why do ye loiter here?
Are all the statues deck'd with festal wreaths
As I commanded?

1 SOLDIER.
We have been on guard
Here by Agenor's order since the nightfall.

ION.
On guard! Well, hasten now and see it done;
I need no guards.
[Exeunt Soldiers.
The awful hour draws near;
I am composed to meet it.—Phocion comes.
His presence, once so welcome, will unman me,
And yet I must not vex his generous soul
With thought that he has ruffled mine.
[Enter Phocion.]
Good morrow!
Thou play'st the courtier early.

PHOCION.
Canst thou speak
In that old tone of common cheerfulness,
That falsely promises delightful years,
And hold thy mournful purpose?

ION.
I have drawn
From the selectest fountain of repose
A blessed calm;—when I lay down to rest
I fear'd lest bright remembrances of childhood
Should with untimely visitation mock me;
But I have slept a deep and dreamless slumber,
And rose refresh'd; if sight of thee revives
Too thrilling images of joyous life,
Yet think not that I blame the love that wakes them.

PHOCION.
O cherish them, and let them plead with thee
To grant my prayer,—that thou wouldst live for Argos,
Not die for her;—thy gracious life shall win
More than thy death the favour of the gods,
And charm the marble aspect of grim fate
Into a blessed change; I, who am vow'd,
And who so late was arm'd fate's minister,
Implore thee!

ION.
Speak to me no more of life;
There is a dearer name that I would utter—
Thou understand'st me—

Enter Agenor.
AGENOR.
Thou hast forgot to name
Who shall be bidden to this evening's feast?

ION.
The feast!—most true; I had forgotten it.
Bid whom thou wilt; but let there be large store,
If our sad walls contain it, for the wretched
Whom hunger palsies. It may be few else
Will taste it with a relish.
[Exit Agenor.
[Ion resumes his address to Phocion, and continues it, broken by the interruptions which follow.]
I would speak
A word of her who yester-morning rose
To her light duties with as blithe a heart
As ever yet its equal beating veil'd
In moveless alabaster;—plighted now,
In liberal hour, to one whose destiny
Shall freeze the sources of enjoyment in it,
And make it heavy with the life-long pang
A widow'd spirit bears!—

Enter Cleon.
CLEON.
The heralds wait
To learn the hour at which the solemn games
Shall be proclaim'd.

ION.
The games!—yes, I remember
That sorrow's darkest pageantries give place
To youth's robustest pastimes—death and life
Embracing:—at the hour of noon.

CLEON.
The wrestlers
Pray thee to crown the victor.

ION.
If I live,
Their wish shall govern me.
[Exit Cleon.
Could I recall
One hour, and bid thy sister think of me
With gentle sorrow as a playmate lost,
I should escape the guilt of having stopp'd
The pulse of hope in the most innocent soul
That ever passion ruffled. Do not talk
Of me as I shall seem to thy kind thoughts,
But harshly as thou canst, and if thou steal
From thy rich store of popular eloquence
Some bitter charge against the faith of kings,
'Twill be the gentlest treason.

Enter Cassander.
CASSANDER.
Pardon me,
If I entreat thee to permit a few
Of thy once cherish'd friends to bid thee joy
Of that which swells their pride.

ION.
They'll madden me.—
Dost thou not see me circled round with care?
Urge me no more.
[As Cassander is going, Ion leaves Phocion and comes to him.]
Come back, Cassander! see
How peevish greatness makes me. Keep this ring—
It may remind thee of the pleasant hours
That we have spent together, ere our fortunes
Grew separate: and with thy gracious speech
Excuse me to our friends.

[Exit Cassander.
PHOCION.
'Tis time we seek
The temple.

ION.
Phocion! must I to the temple?

PHOCION.
There sacrificial rites must be perform'd
Before thou art enthroned.

ION.
Then I must gaze
On things which will awake the rebel thoughts
I had subdued—perchance may meet with her
Whose name I dare not utter. I am ready.

[Exeunt.