 | Adrian In Syria |  |
SCENE VIII.
Osrhoes, Emirena.Osr.
My daughter, if thou lov'st me, lo! the time
To give it proof: assist thy wretched father,
218
Emir.
If my blood
Can give you peace, 'tis yours—it flows for you.
Osr.
O! snatch me from the Roman tyrant's power;
—But, ha! I see thee free from chains.
Emir.
Augustus,
Who found us innocent of all attempts
Against his life, to me and to Pharnaspes
Gave instant freedom. But what aid for you
Can I bestow?
Osr.
A sword! a dagger! poison!
Death, death in any shape.
Emir.
What says my father?
Must these be proofs of love? A daughter's hand
Supply the cruel means! The thought alone
Chills me with horror!—'Tis in vain you ask it—
My heart abhors the task, and though my heart
Inhuman should consent, my conscious hand
Would tremble and refuse its dreadful office.
Osr.
Away. I deem'd thee worthier of thy race.
And dost thou startle at the name of death?
Infirm of purpose! know that Osrhoes' daughter
Should learn to view it with a steadier eye.
219
A noble soul no tumult knows,
When life draws near its fated close:
The trembling coward only knows
The fear that gives to death its pain.
'Tis false to name the dying hour,
The worst of ills mankind deplore:
Which bids the afflicted soul no more
The galling load of life sustain.
When life draws near its fated close:
The trembling coward only knows
The fear that gives to death its pain.
'Tis false to name the dying hour,
The worst of ills mankind deplore:
Which bids the afflicted soul no more
The galling load of life sustain.
[Exit.
| Adrian In Syria | |