 | Eurydice |  |
SCENE I.
Eurydice, Melissa.Eurydice.
What may this mean? The gloomy band of ruffians,
That bore me hence, vanish'd I know not how.
And hark! no sound, no breath of human voice;
But all around the depth of solitude!
A dumb and death-like stillness! My soul trembles:
And Apprehension peoples the lone void
With fears of horrid form—But what can fate?
What can the wrath of all the Gods inflict
Beyond what I have known?
Melissa.
My gracious Mistress,
This awful moment is perhaps the crisis
Of all your future life. Your guards fled sudden:
And late the neighbouring courts were loud with tumult,
Which dy'd away in slow and sullen murmurs.
Some turn of fate is near. Leonidas
In haste bore hence the king, doubtless to save him
From his dire foe: or at the people's head
Once more to place their sovereign, and restore
You to your former state.
Eurydice.
All otherwise
My thoughts forebode. There is one deadly ill,
Which oh too sure no time, no chance can heal!
And at the dawn of day, just as these lids
Reluctant clos'd to rest, Arpasia's Shade,
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Pale as the shroud that wound her clay-cold limbs;
Her eyes fix'd on me, still and motionless,
Streaming unreal tears. She groan'd, and thrice
In low, sad murmurs bade me to her tomb,
To meet her there—and there, in death alone,
In the dark grave, can poor Eurydice
Expect repose.
Melissa.
O no; just heaven, I hope,
That sees your innocence, has yet in store
Much bliss and many days of peace for you.
Eurydice.
I know his heart is quite estrang'd, and shut,
For ever shut against the voice of love:
And can my heart survive it? Shall I live
With public infamy? a theme of scorn
To all licentious tongues? Oh! in that thought,
Death's keenest dart has stab'd my soul already;
And what comes after is not worth my fear.
Melissa.
Ha! Madam, this way cast your eyes, and see
What swarms of men; these flying, those pursuing.
Eurydice.
Now, Lord of battles! join thy powerful arm;
Assert the cause of righteousness—But hark!
The thunder of their shouts grows near and loud.
This way the combat turns. By all my hopes,
The Tyrant's party flies. Look, look, Melissa,
Their broken numbers to the fortress bend.
Melissa.
And now with eager speed they climb th'ascent
That leads to us.
Eurydice.
But who is he, Melissa,
That like the God of war, flames foremost yonder?
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From his tempestuous arm!—Ha—yes—O heaven!
'Tis he, 'tis he himself, 'tis Periander!
O miracle! He looks again a monarch,
Dreadfully glorious. Throw, ye Powers! your shield
Of providence before him; think on all
His causeless wrongs, and do him justice now.
Melissa.
Ah! Procles comes.
| Eurydice | |