University of Virginia Library

SCENE XIII.

THAMYRIS, ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS, ORCHANES.
Soldiers, with Torches and Axes.

This haughty mausoleum of a race
To Athridates fatal, shall no longer
Insult yon azure sky. My swift revenge
Shall level these proud walls, and to the winds
Disperse the ashes of a hostile line.

THAMYRIS.
Thou wilt not sure, with war's impurpled horrors,
Prophane this peaceful tomb of Pontus' kings!
From the cold grave what can a conqueror fear?
O spare this hallow'd dust!

ATHRIDATES.
And can the queen
Of great Pharnaces weep? that haughty spirit
Descend to melt in tears?

THAMYRIS.
True, these fond tears,
These unavailing drops, disgrace the daughter,
The wife, of mighty kings: relentless fury
Would best become my wrongs. Yet hear me, sire!
Revere the gods, and spare th' illustrious dead.

ATHRIDATES.
Advance, and from its deep foundation raze
This tomb, which mocks my vengeance.

[The Soldiers advance. Thamyris snatches a Sword, and stands before the Tomb.
THAMYRIS.
Hence, ye slaves!
He dies who dares approach. The timid dove
Will brave the vulture, to defend her young.

ATHRIDATES.
Instant obey me, or your lives shall answer.
[The Soldiers force open the Tomb, and Eumenes appears, Xiphares (his sword drawn) holding him by the hand. Military Trophies. A Lamp burning within the Tomb.
Propitious powers! at length I hold my victim.

[Thamyris drops the Sword, and falls at the feet of Athridates.
THAMYRIS.
King! father! Athridates! by the blood
From thee deriv'd, which fills these circling veins,
With pity hear me! from thy threaten'd vengeance,
From death, dishonor, and the chains of Rome,
Within this horrid tomb's relentless walls
A mother's love conceal'd him.

ATHRIDATES.
Rise, fond woman.

THAMYRIS.
Thou wilt not shed his blood?

ATHRIDATES.
Hence—Trust a father,
In whom a latent spark of struggling nature
Yet pleads for him, for thee.

[Thamyris rises, goes to the Tomb, and leads Eumenes to Athridates.
THAMYRIS.
I will believe thee.
Come from this dark abode, thou wretched heir
Of an unhappy mother! See, O, king!
This terror of the Romans! the remains
Of an unhappy race by thee pursued.
What canst thou fear from him? Go, my Eumenes;
Embrace those knees; and print obsequious kisses
On that respected hand. My soul's soft darling!
Why dost thou gaze upon me? 'tis not base;
A mother's terrors, and remorseless fate,
Command thy prompt obedience. Kneel, my child.

ATHRIDATES.
Orchanes, to the palace wait the queen:
Her son remains with me.

THAMYRIS.
Thou wilt not part us?
Give, give, one moment to my breaking heart.
Come to my bosom, child of many sorrows!
They shall not tear thee from me.

ATHRIDATES.
Ha! take heed,
Nor let thy fond impatience lanch the bolt
Which stops, suspended o'er him.

THAMYRIS.
From my hand
Receive him, Athridates. If thy fury
Attempt his infant life, may every God
Pour on thy head devoted—Gracious heaven!
What means my rage? I cannot curse a father.

ATHRIDATES.
Artaxias, guard secure Pharnaces' son:
Conduct him to the citadel: thy life
(Observe me well) shall answer for the trust.

THAMYRIS.
Wilt thou not spare him! O, for him, for him!

ATHRIDATES.
Thy agitated soul demands repose.
And my compassion grants it. To the palace
Turn from this scene of horrors. Soon I'll see thee
And fix thy fate with his.

THAMYRIS.
If yet one ray
Of soft paternal tenderness remains!
With pity hear me! hear the mighty voice
Of awful nature! change thy stern decree,
From wild despair save this distracted bosom,
And give Eumenes to a mother's tears!