 | The Olympiad |  |
SCENE XII.
Enter Amyntas.Amyn.
O Lycidas!
[offers to embrace him.
Clis.
Forbear awhile, and answer,
But truly answer, whence thou hadst this chain.
Amyn.
My lord, 'twas given me by a hand unknown;
Since which have twenty-five long years elaps'd.
Clis.
But where was this?
Amyn.
Where turbulent Asopus
155
Alc.
Sure in that visage I confess the trace
Of features seen before: I am not deceiv'd,
'Tis he himself! [aside.]
—O mighty king! I am guilty,
[kneels.
And own my former crime: yet grant me pardon,
And I'll disclose the whole.
Clis.
Rise then, and speak.
Alc.
I did not, as thou gav'st to me in charge,
Expose the infant; vanquish'd by my pity,
I gave him to this stranger, who by chance
Appear'd before me, hoping he might bear
The hapless child to some far distant shore.
Clis.
Where is that child, Amyntas? What befell him?
Amyn.
I—Heaven! What mystery must I now reveal!
Clis.
Ha! art thou pale? Speak, wretch, what didst thou with him?
Add not by silence to thy former guilt.
Amyn.
Thou hast him present—Lycidas is he.
Clis.
How! Is not Lycidas the prince of Crete?
Amyn.
That prince an infant died. When I to Crete
Again return'd, I gave the afflicted king
This child; and to supply the son he lost,
By my advice he bred him for his heir.
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Gods! 'tis Philinthus, 'tis my son, my son!
[embracing him.
Aris.
Ye powers!
Lyc.
Am I your son!
Clis.
Yes; thou wert born
A twin with Aristea: Delphos bade me
Expose thee, when an infant, to the sea,
Threatning in thee the crime of parricide.
Lyc.
Now I perceive what caus'd my secret horror,
When late this hand was rais'd against your life.
Clis.
Now well I understand the strange emotion
I felt before thy presence.
Amyn.
Happy father!
Alc.
'Tis yours this day to render many blest.
Clis.
Nor do I purpose less. My son shall be
The spouse of Argene, and Megacles
Of Aristea—but my son Philinthus
Is criminal, and stands condemn'd to die.
Mega.
No more he's guilty since he's found your son.
Clis.
Has then my blood the mighty privilege
Of doing wrong unpunish'd? All come here
To shew their fortitude; shall I alone
Give proofs of weakness? Never shall the world
Thus witness to my shame. Ye ministers!
The sacred fire rekindle on the altar;
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Amyn.
O cruel justice!
Alc.
O inhuman virtue!
Mega.
My lord, forbear, thou canst not now condemn him;
In Sicyon, not Olympia, art thou king:
The day is past in which thou didst preside,
The criminal must wait the public sentence.
Clis.
Then hear the public voice; let that decide,
I neither ask his life, nor seek to save him.
Chorus of Priests and People.
The son, though guilty, shall survive
Nor by his punishment deprive
Of peace a guiltless sire:
Let not such horror stain the day,
Or unpropitious grief allay
The joys our rites require.
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