University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A private apartment in the house of Sulpicius.
Enter Sulpicius and Orceres by opposite sides.
Sul.
So soon return'd!—I read not in thy face
Aught to encourage or depress my wishes.
How is it, noble friend?

Or.
E'en as it was ere I received my mission.
Cordenius Maro is on public duty;
I have not seen him.—When he knows your offer,
His heart will bound with joy, like eaglet plumed,
Whose outstretch'd pinions, wheeling round and round,
Shape their first circles in the sunny air.

Sul.
And with good cause.

Or.
Methinks I see him now!
A face with blushes mantling to the brow,
Eyes with bright tears surcharged, and parted lips
Quiv'ring to utter joy which hath no words.

Sul.
His face, indeed, as I have heard thee say,
Is like a wave which sun and shadow cross;
Each thought makes there its momentary mark.

Or.
And then his towering form, and vaulting step,
As tenderness gives way to exultation!
O! it had been a feast to look upon him;
And still shall be.

Sul.
Art thou so well convinced
He loves my little damsel?—She is fair,
But seems to me too simple, gay, and thoughtless,
For noble Maro. Heiress as she is
To all my wealth, had I suspected sooner,
That he had smother'd wishes in his breast
As too presumptuous, or that she in secret
Preferr'd his silent homage to the praise
Of any other man, I had most frankly
Removed all hindrance to so fair a suit.
For, in these changeling and degenerate days,
I scarcely know a man of nobler worth.

Or.
Thou scarcely knowst! Say certainly thou dost not.
He is, to honest right, as simply true
As shepherd child on desert pasture bred,
Where falsehood and deceit have never been;
And to maintain them, ardent, skilful, potent,
As the shrewd leader of unruly tribes.
A simple heart and subtle spirit join'd
Make such an union, as in Nero's court
May pass for curious and unnatural.

Sul.
But is the public duty very urgent
That so untowardly delays our happiness?

Or.
The punishment of those poor Nazarenes,
Who, in defiance of imperial power,
To their forbidden faith and rights adhere
With obstinacy most astonishing.

Sul.
A stubborn contumacy, unaccountable!

Or.
There's sorcery in it, or some stronger power.
But be it what it may, or good, or ill,
They look on death in its most dreadful form,
As martial heroes on a wreath of triumph.
The fires are kindled in the place of death,
And bells toll dismally. The life of Rome
In one vast clust'ring mass hangs round the spot,
And no one to his neighbour utters word,
But in an alter'd voice, with breath restrain'd,
Like those who speak at midnight near the dead.
Cordenius heads the band that guards the pile;
So station'd, who could speak to him of pleasure?
My words had come like sounds of evil omen.

Sul.
Cease; here comes Portia, with a careless face:
She knows not yet the happiness that waits her.

Or.
Who brings she with her thus, as if compell'd
By playful force?

Sul.
'Tis her Numidian page; a cunning imp,
Who must be woo'd to do the thing he's proud of.

Enter Portia, dragging Syphax after her, speaking as she enters.
Portia.
Come in, deceitful thing!—I know thee well;
With all thy sly affected bashfulness,
Thou'rt bold enough to sing in Cæsar's court,
With the whole senate present. (To Orceres.)

Prince of Parthia,
I knew not you were here; but yet I guess
The song which this sly creature sings so well,
Will please you also.

Or.
How can it fail, fair Portia, so commended?

Sul.
What is this boasted lay?

Portia.
That tune, my father,
Which you so oft have tried to recollect;
But link'd with other words, of new device,
That please my fancy well.—Come, sing it, boy!

Sul.
Nay, sing it, Syphax, be not so abash'd,
If thou art really so.—Begin, begin!
But speak thy words distinctly as thou singst,
That I may have their meaning perfectly.


SONG.

Or.
The picture of some very noble hero
These lines pourtray.

Sul.
So it should seem; one of the days of old.

Portia.
And why of olden days? There liveth now
The very man—a man—I mean to say,
There may be found among our Roman youth,
One, who in form and feelings may compare
With him, whose lofty virtues these few lines
So well describe.

Or.
Thou meanst the lofty Gorbus.

Portia.
Out on the noisy braggart. Arms without
He hath, indeed, well burnish'd and well plumed,
But the poor soul, within, is pluck'd and bare,
Like any homely thing.

Or.
Sertorius Galba then?

Portia.
O, stranger still!
For if he hath no lack of courage, certes,
He hath much lack of grace. Sertorius Galba!

Or.
Perhaps thou meanst Cordenius Maro, lady.
Thy cheeks grow scarlet at the very name,
Indignant that I still should err so strangely.

Portia.
No, not indignant, for thou errest not;
Nor do I blush, albeit thou thinkst I do,
To say, there is not of our Romans one,
Whose martial form a truer image gives
Of firm heroic courage.

Sul.
Cease, sweet Portia!
He only laughs at thy simplicity.

Or.
Simplicity seen through a harmless wile,
Like to the infant urchin, half conceal'd
Behind his smiling dam's transparent veil.
The song is not a stranger to mine ear,
Methinks I've heard it passing through those wilds,
Whose groves and caves, if rumour speak the truth,
Are by the Nazarenes or Christians haunted.

Sul.
Let it no more be sung within my walls:
A chaunt of their's to bring on pestilence!
Sing it no more. What sounds are those I hear?

Or.
The dismal death-drum and the crowd without.
They are this instant leading past your door
Those wretched Christians to their dreadful doom.

Sul.
We'll go and see them pass.

[Exeunt hastily, Sulpicius, Orceres.
Portia
(stopping her ears).
I cannot look on them, nor hear the sound.
I'll to my chamber.

Page.
May not I, I pray,
Look on them as they pass?

Portia.
No; go not, child:
'Twill frighten thee; it is a horrid sight.

Page.
Yet, an it please you, lady, let me go.

Portia.
I say it is a horrid, piteous sight,
Thou wilt be frighten'd at it.

Page.
Nay, be it e'er so piteous or so horrid,
I have a longing, strong desire to see it.

Portia.
Go then; in this there is no affectation:
There's all the harden'd cruelty of man
Lodged in that tiny form, child as thou art.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.

An open square, with buildings.
Enter Cordenius Maro, at the head of his soldiers, who draw up on either side; then enters a long procession of public functionaries, &c., conducting martyrs to the place of execution, who, as they pass on, sing together in unison: one, more noble than the others, walking first.
SONG.

[Exeunt martyrs, &c. &c. Cordenius with his officers and soldiers still remaining; the officers on the front, and Cordenius apart from them in a thoughtful posture.
1st offi.
Brave Varus marches boldly at the head
Of that deluded band.

2d offi.
Are these the men who hateful orgies hold,
In dens and deserts with enchantments wooing
The intercourse of demons?

3d offi.
Ay, with rites
Cruel and wild. To crucify a babe,
And, while it yet hangs shrieking on the rood,
Fall down and worship it! device abominable!

1st offi.
Dost thou believe it?

3d offi.
I can believe or this or any thing
Of the possess'd and mad.

1st offi.
What demonry, thinkst thou, possesses Varus?

2d offi.
That is well urged. (To the other.)
Is he a maniac?
Alas, that I should see so brave a soldier
Thus, as a malefactor, led to death!

1st offi.
Viewing his keen enliven'd countenance
And stately step, one should have rather guess'd
He led victorious soldiers to the charge:
And they, indeed, appear'd to follow him
With noble confidence.

3d offi.
'Tis all vain seeming.
He is a man, who makes a show of valour
To which his deeds have borne slight testimony.

Cor.
(advancing indignantly).
Thou liest; a better and a braver soldier
Ne'er fronted foe, nor closed in bloody strife.

[Turning away angrily to the background.
1st offi.
Our chief, methinks, is in a fretful mood,
Which is not usual with him.

2d offi.
He did not seem to listen to our words,
Yet they have moved him keenly.—
But see, he gives the signal to proceed;
We must advance, and with our closing ranks
The fatal pile encircle.

[Exeunt in order, whilst a chorus of martyrs is heard at a distance.

SCENE III.

An apartment in a private house.
Enter two Christian Women by opposite sides.
1st woman.
Hast thou heard any thing?

2d woman.
Nought, save the murmur of the multitude,
Sinking at times to deep and awful silence,
From which again a sudden burst will rise
Like mingled exclamations, as of horror
Or admiration. In these neighbouring streets
I have not met a single citizen,
The town appearing uninhabited.
But wherefore art thou here? Thou shouldst have stay'd
With the unhappy mother of poor Cælus.

1st woman.
She sent me hither in her agony
Of fear and fearful hope.

2d woman.
Ha! does she hope deliverance from death?

1st woman.
O no! thou wrongst her, friend; it is not that:
Deliverance is her fear, and death her hope.
A second time she bears a mother's throes
For her young stripling, whose exalted birth
To endless life is at this fearful crisis,
Or earn'd or lost. May heaven forefend the last!
He is a timid youth, and soft of nature:
God grant him strength to bear that fearful proof!

2d woman.
Here comes our reverend father.
Enter a Christian Father.
What tidings dost thou bring? are they in bliss?

Father.
Yes, daughter, as I trust, they are ere this
In high immortal bliss. Cælus alone—

1st woman.
He hath apostatised! O woe is me!
O woe is me for his most wretched mother!

Father
Apostatised! No; stripling as he is,
His fortitude, where all were braced and brave,
Shone paramount.
For his soft downy cheek and slender form
Made them conceive they might subdue his firmness:
Therefore he was reserved till noble Varus
And his compeers had in the flames expired
Then did they court and tempt him with fair promise
Of all that earthly pleasure or ambition
Can offer, to deny his holy faith.
But he, who seem'd before so meek and timid,
Now suddenly imbued with holy grace,
Like the transition of some watery cloud
In passing o'er the moon's refulgent disc,
Glow'd with new life; and from his fervid tongue
Words of most firm indignant constancy
Pour'd eloquently forth; then to the pile
Sprang he as lightly as a dauntless warrior
Scaling the breach of honour; or, alas!
As I have seen him 'midst his boyish mates,
Vaulting aloft for very love of motion.

1st woman.
High heaven be praised for this!—
thine eyes beheld it?

Father.
I saw it not: the friend who witness'd it,
Left him yet living 'midst devouring flame;
Therefore I spoke of Cælus doubtfully,
If he as yet belong'd to earth or heaven.

[They cover their faces, and remain silent.
Enter a Christian Brother.
Brother.
Lift up your heads, my sisters! let your voices
In grateful thanks be raised! Those ye lament,
Have earthly pangs for heavenly joy exchanged.
The manly Varus, and the youthful Cælus,
The lion and the dove, yoke-fellows link'd,
Have equal bliss and equal honour gain'd.

st woman.
And praised be God, who makes the weakest strong!
I'll to his mother with the blessed tidings.

[Exit.
Father.
Let us retire and pray. How soon our lives
May have like ending, God alone doth know!
O! may like grace support us in our need!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

An open space in front of a temple.
Enter Cordelius, as returned from the execution with his soldiers, who, upon a signal from him, disperse and leave him alone. He walks a few paces slowly, then stops, and continues for a short time in a thoughtful posture.
Cor.
There is some power in this, or good or ill,
Surpassing nature. When the soul is roused
To desp'rate sacrifice, 'tis ardent passion,
Or high exalted virtue that excites it.
Can loathsome demonry in dauntless bearing
Outdo the motives of the lofty brave?
It cannot be! There is some power in this
Mocking all thought—incomprehensible.
[Remains for a moment silent and thoughtful, while Sylvius enters behind him unperceived.
Delusion! ay, 'tis said the cheated sight
Will see unreal things; the cheated ear
List to sweet sounds that are not; even the reason
Maintain conclusions wild and inconsistent.
We hear of this:—the weak may be deluded;
But is the learn'd, th' enlighten'd noble Varus
The victim of delusion?—Can it be?
I'll not believe it.

Sylvius
(advancing to him).
No, believe it not.

Cor.
(starting).
Ha! one so near me!
I have seen thy face before; but where? who art thou?

Sylvius.
E'en that Centurion of the Seventh Legion,
Who, with Cordenius Maro, at the siege
Of Fort Volundum, mounted first the breach;
And kept the clust'ring enemy in check,
Till our encouraged Romans followed us.

Cor.
My old companion then, the valiant Sylvius,
Thou'st done hard service since I saw thee last:
Thy countenance is mark'd with graver lines
Than in those greener days: I knew thee not.
Where goest thou now? I'll bear thee company.

Sylvius.
I thank thee: yet thou mayst not go with me.
The way that I am wending suits not thee,
Though suiting well the noble and the brave.
It were not well, in fiery times like these,
To tempt thy generous mind.

Cor.
What dost thou mean?

Sylvius
(after looking cautiously round to see that nobody is near).
Did I not hear thee commune with thyself
Of that most blessed Martyr gone to rest,
Varus Dobella?

Cor.
How blessed? My unsettled thoughts were busy
With things mysterious; with those magic powers
That work the mind to darkness and destruction;
With the sad end of the deluded Varus.

Sylvius.
Not so, not so! The wisest prince on earth,
With treasured wealth and armies at command,
Ne'er earn'd withal such lofty exaltation
As Varus now enjoys.

Cor.
Thy words amaze me, friend; what is their meaning?

Sylvius.
They cannot be explain'd with hasty speech
In such a place. If thou wouldst really know—
And may such light—

Cor.
Why dost thou check thy words,
And look so much disturb'd, like one in doubt?

Sylvius.
What am I doing? Zeal, perhaps, betrays me.
Yet, wherefore hide salvation from a man
Who is so worthy of it?

Cor.
Why art thou agitated thus? What moves thee?

Sylvius.
And wouldst thou really know it?

Cor.
Dost thou doubt me?
I have an earnest, most intense desire.

Sylvius.
Sent to thy heart, brave Roman, by a Power
Which I may not resist.
[Bowing his head.
But go not with me now in open day.
At fall of eve I'll meet thee in the suburb,
Close to the pleasure-garden of Sulpicius;
Where in a bushy crevice of the rock
There is an entry to the catacombs,
Known but to few.

Cor.
Ha! to the catacombs!

Syl.
A dismal place, I own, but heed not that;
For there thou'lt learn what, to thy ardent mind,
Will make this world but as a thorny pass
To regions of delight; man's natural life,
With all its varied turmoil of ambition,
But as the training of a wayward child
To manly excellence; yea, death itself
But as a painful birth to life uncnding.
The word eternal has not to thine ears,
As yet, its awful, ample sense convey'd.

Cor.
Something possesses thee.

Sylvius.
Yes, noble Maro;
But it is something which can ne'er possess
A mind that is not virtuous.—Let us part;
It is expedient now.—All good be with thee!

Cor.
And good be with thee, also, valiant soldier!

Sylvius
(returning as he is about to go out).
At close of day, and near the pleasure-garden,—
The garden of Sulpicius.

Cor.
I know the spot, and will not fail to meet thee.

[Exeunt.