 | Hibernia Freed |  |
1
ACT. I.
SceneThe Hill of Tarah, in the County of Meath. An open Place before the Monarch's Tent. O Brien sitting in his Tent, Eugenius standing by him. After a Tune is play'd on the Harp, they come forward.
O B.
Enough, it will not be; vain is th'Attempt
To calm my Sorrows by Harmonious Airs:
Harsh is the Sound, and dissonant the Notes.
The tuneful Harp, tho' guided by thy Art,
Jars in my Ears, and swells my Griefs yet higher.
Eu.
There was a Time, when Musick charm'd you most;
When all the vain Amusements, Men call Pleasures,
The Splendor of a Crown, the Pomp of Courts,
Extended Empire, and Despotic Pow'r,
Cou'd not infuse such heav'nly, real Joys.
2
There was a Time, indeed, when Musick charm'd:
What trivial Joys divert! The Mind at Peace,
My Peace is fled, ne'er shall I find her more!
There was a Time, when all this warlike Isle,
This fertile Land own'd me her Sovereign Lord.
How fall'n is my State! How wretched now!
Eu.
On Thrones, in Triumphs, crown'd with all we wish,
The Mind is on a Rack, conscious of Ill.
But virtuous Actions can secure her Rest,
Spite of Calamities or Fortune's Frowns.
The Conqueror, the fierce, the haughty Dane,
Admires your Valor, owns you great in Arms.
You have not to upbraid yourself; be calm.
Fatal Disunion and intestine Strife
Have render'd us a Prey to foreign Pow'r.
O B.
'Tis of small Import how, conquer'd we are.
Behold that neighb'ring Hill, the loftier Skreen,
And all the Vale o'erspread with hostile Troops!
Behold the Ensigns wrested from our Hands,
And the gay Plumes, which late adorn'd our Brows,
Wave in the Air, in Witness of our Shame!
View then this Remnant of Hibernia's Sons,
Hunted and driv'n to this defenceless Camp,
Surrounded with an Host of savage Foes,
Who give us Leave to live thro' Cruelty!
Then cease to wonder at thy Monarch's Cares,
Cease to upbraid; improve, urge on my Grief.—
Behold that neighb'ring Hill, the loftier Skreen,
And all the Vale o'erspread with hostile Troops!
Behold the Ensigns wrested from our Hands,
And the gay Plumes, which late adorn'd our Brows,
Wave in the Air, in Witness of our Shame!
View then this Remnant of Hibernia's Sons,
Hunted and driv'n to this defenceless Camp,
Surrounded with an Host of savage Foes,
Who give us Leave to live thro' Cruelty!
Then cease to wonder at thy Monarch's Cares,
Cease to upbraid; improve, urge on my Grief.—
Better by far in Tortures to expire,
Than thus insulted drag an odious Life,
Than toil and drudge in Service of our Foes.
Than thus insulted drag an odious Life,
Than toil and drudge in Service of our Foes.
Eu.
'Tis a sad Prospect to Hibernia's King.
O B.
And yet he lives, Hibernia's Monarch lives,
O Brienlives to see his People Slaves,
Himself a Slave, a poor precarious King,
Compell'd to rob and strip the lab'ring Hinds,
[illeg.]d the Dane, and to support his Riot.—
O Brienlives to see his People Slaves,
Himself a Slave, a poor precarious King,
Compell'd to rob and strip the lab'ring Hinds,
[illeg.]d the Dane, and to support his Riot.—
3
Back to their Fountains turn thy Streams, oh Boyn!
No longer let thy pleasant Waters glide,
To glad the Eye, and fructify the Glebe.
And thou, fair Tarah! once delightful Place,
Once the proud Seat of Empire, lovely Hill!
Yield no more Fruits, no more spring up the Herb;
Hide thy insulted, thy inglorious Head;
Be levell'd to the Earth, low as my State.
No longer let thy pleasant Waters glide,
To glad the Eye, and fructify the Glebe.
And thou, fair Tarah! once delightful Place,
Once the proud Seat of Empire, lovely Hill!
Yield no more Fruits, no more spring up the Herb;
Hide thy insulted, thy inglorious Head;
Be levell'd to the Earth, low as my State.
Eu.
The People's Crimes have drawn this Vengeance down,
Which the King's Virtue only can remove.
Cease your Complaints, and fortify your Mind.
O B.
Not my own Fall, my People I lament.
Yet 'tis a racking Thought, I was a King.
Oh that I could forget what I have been!
Vain Wish! These Remnants shew me what I was,
And their Oppressions keep my Griefs awake.—
Yet 'tis a racking Thought, I was a King.
Oh that I could forget what I have been!
Vain Wish! These Remnants shew me what I was,
And their Oppressions keep my Griefs awake.—
Fertile Hibernia! Hospitable Land!
Is not allow'd to feed her Native Sons,
In vain they toil, and a-mid Plenty starve.
The lazy Dane grows wanton with our Stores,
Urges our Labour, and derides our Wants.
Hibernia! Seat of Learning! School of Science!
How waste! How wild dost thou already seem!
Thy Houses, Schools, thy Cities ransack'd, burnt!
Virgins are torne from the fond Parent's Arms,
And offer'd up t'appease their fancy'd Gods;
Or worse, must yield to gratify the Dane.
Yet we are taught to bear these Miseries;
Too oft the dire Concomitants of War.
They stop not here; Religion is prophan'd;
The Holy Priest, while he at th'Altar bows,
Is slain, and made himself the Sacrifice.
Our sacred Altars, Temples are o'erthrown,
Or else defil'd with Pagan Incense Smoke.—
Is not allow'd to feed her Native Sons,
In vain they toil, and a-mid Plenty starve.
The lazy Dane grows wanton with our Stores,
Urges our Labour, and derides our Wants.
Hibernia! Seat of Learning! School of Science!
How waste! How wild dost thou already seem!
Thy Houses, Schools, thy Cities ransack'd, burnt!
Virgins are torne from the fond Parent's Arms,
And offer'd up t'appease their fancy'd Gods;
Or worse, must yield to gratify the Dane.
Yet we are taught to bear these Miseries;
Too oft the dire Concomitants of War.
They stop not here; Religion is prophan'd;
The Holy Priest, while he at th'Altar bows,
Is slain, and made himself the Sacrifice.
Our sacred Altars, Temples are o'erthrown,
Or else defil'd with Pagan Incense Smoke.—
4
Must Monarchs such Indignities support?
Can human Nature calmly bear such Woes?
Should we such Prophanation see unmov'd?
Can human Nature calmly bear such Woes?
Should we such Prophanation see unmov'd?
Eu.
It is allow'd to deprecate Heav'n's Wrath:
But shou'd our Woes endure, shou'd they encrease,
We must submit; 'tis Weakness to repine,
Feel as a Man, but bear it like a King.
O B.
To thee Eugenius I reveal my Griefs,
And 'tis some Ease to speak them to a Friend.
Few can conceal them, fewer can support.
The Fortitude I shew, from thee I learn;
Thy pious Doctrine and thy wise Advice;
Teach me to bear, and give me Grounds to hope.
Eu.
A savage Race, urg'd by their Wants to roam,
Have by insidious Arts usurp'd your Crown,
Oppress'd your People, laid your Country waste,
And insolently glory in their Crimes.
But Vengeance hovers o'er their guilty Heads,
And you may reign, and we may yet rejoice.—
Have by insidious Arts usurp'd your Crown,
Oppress'd your People, laid your Country waste,
And insolently glory in their Crimes.
But Vengeance hovers o'er their guilty Heads,
And you may reign, and we may yet rejoice.—
A suddain Beam of Light, shot from above,
Enlightens and revives my drooping Soul.—
Enlightens and revives my drooping Soul.—
Hark! the Swords clash! the Groans of dying Men!
Confus'd they fly, avoiding, meet their Death.
The Tyrant bleeds to expiate his Guilt,
And Peace returns! what Shouts of Joy! No more—
Darkly we see, nor may we utter all.
Confus'd they fly, avoiding, meet their Death.
The Tyrant bleeds to expiate his Guilt,
And Peace returns! what Shouts of Joy! No more—
Darkly we see, nor may we utter all.
O B.
Oh! thou hast rouz'd my sad desponding Soul!
Speak on, give thy Thoughts Vent, and charm my Ears.
Thy Words, pronounced in Mystic Sense, revive me.—
Speak on, give thy Thoughts Vent, and charm my Ears.
Thy Words, pronounced in Mystic Sense, revive me.—
Oh may I live! once more in equal Fight
To meet the Foe, and dare the Rage of War!
Once more to try my Fate in Arms! to find
Success, or meet the great Deliv'rer, Death!
Perhaps my Son, my Lucius is decreed,
To reinstate his Father on his Throne,
His Country's Honour to retrieve, and drive
This Foreign Pest back to their barren Shoars.
A Faithful Band he from Connacia leads;
Prosper him Heav'n, and Crown his filial Love!
To meet the Foe, and dare the Rage of War!
Once more to try my Fate in Arms! to find
Success, or meet the great Deliv'rer, Death!
Perhaps my Son, my Lucius is decreed,
To reinstate his Father on his Throne,
His Country's Honour to retrieve, and drive
This Foreign Pest back to their barren Shoars.
5
Prosper him Heav'n, and Crown his filial Love!
Eu.
Not so, I fear.
O B.
Oh! wherefore dost thou fear?
Already has thou damp'd my rising Joys.
That fatal Word has multiply'd my Cares
And my desponding Thoughts return. And see
Where Herimon appears with mournful Air,
And looks, as he wou'd justify thy Fears.
Enter Herimon.Already has thou damp'd my rising Joys.
That fatal Word has multiply'd my Cares
And my desponding Thoughts return. And see
Where Herimon appears with mournful Air,
And looks, as he wou'd justify thy Fears.
Thy Country's Ruin, and thy King's O'rethrow,
May well imprint such Sorrows on thy Face:
And yet thou seem'st to bear new Loads of Grief.
May well imprint such Sorrows on thy Face:
And yet thou seem'st to bear new Loads of Grief.
Her.
Oh could my Tidings ever be conceal'd!
Wou'd none else wound your Ears with the sad Tale!
By Death my Silence shou'd preserve your Peace:
It must be known, the Consequence will speak.
O B.
Then speak it thou; thy stedfast Faith, thy Love
Will dress the Message in less hideous Form.
And yet—not so—give me to know the worst;
Be plain, in dreadful Words speak horrid Things,
I stand collected, and my Mind prepar'd.
Her.
And there is need, our Servitude seems fix'd:
Fortune still servilely attends the Dane,
And persecutes us still with boundless Rage.
Fortune still servilely attends the Dane,
And persecutes us still with boundless Rage.
Oppress'd and harrass'd by the cruel Dane,
But more enflam'd at your dejected State,
The brave Connacian Youth gladly obey'd
The martial Summons of the Prince your Son;
Courage supply'd Defects of Discipline
And Arms; Rannald, the haughty Lord of Kerry,
Brought down his hardy Troops, fatal Supply!
The Shannon cross'd, they met the Danish Force.
The Prince, with Skill superior to his Years,
Marshall'd his Army, ready to engage.
Rannald approach'd your Son, and claim'd the Princess,
To recompence the Service of that Day.
Well knew the Prince th'Importance of his Aid;
But he was conscious too, by your Consent
She was betroth'd to the Ultonian King.
He cou'd not grant, and was above dissembling.
Rannald, incens'd, withdrew. Too few the rest
To vanquish, scorning Flight—they fought—they dy'd.
But more enflam'd at your dejected State,
The brave Connacian Youth gladly obey'd
The martial Summons of the Prince your Son;
Courage supply'd Defects of Discipline
And Arms; Rannald, the haughty Lord of Kerry,
Brought down his hardy Troops, fatal Supply!
The Shannon cross'd, they met the Danish Force.
The Prince, with Skill superior to his Years,
6
Rannald approach'd your Son, and claim'd the Princess,
To recompence the Service of that Day.
Well knew the Prince th'Importance of his Aid;
But he was conscious too, by your Consent
She was betroth'd to the Ultonian King.
He cou'd not grant, and was above dissembling.
Rannald, incens'd, withdrew. Too few the rest
To vanquish, scorning Flight—they fought—they dy'd.
O B.
Alas my People! Lucius! What of him?
Her.
Some Friends, who for his Sake surviv'd the Day,
Forc'd him, o'er toil'd and weak, to quit the Field,
And in the Passes skill'd, secur'd his Flight.
O B.
That's somewhat yet, to the fond Parent's Grief;
Some Ease it brings, but the King's Care remains.
Eu.
Yet are our Stripes unequal to our Faults:
Heav'n is not yet appeas'd, relents not yet.
Bear we these Woes, and deprecate th'Encrease!
Her.
And what can give Encrease? Conquer'd, enslav'd,
No Hope remaining; what can Fate do more?
Eu.
Rash Man! Are we still harden'd in our Sin?
Not yet taught Wisdom, unsubdu'd our Pride?
Groveling our Senses, ignorant and blind,
Dare we brave Pow'r, eternal, infinite,
And dare we Worms expostulate with Heav'n?—
Not yet taught Wisdom, unsubdu'd our Pride?
Groveling our Senses, ignorant and blind,
Dare we brave Pow'r, eternal, infinite,
And dare we Worms expostulate with Heav'n?—
E'er yet the radiant Sun withdraws, I fear
Some new Addition to the Ills we bear.
My boding Mind foresees some Danger nigh,
And baleful Clouds around us threatning fly.
Beware, lest from thy House the Cause shou'd spring,
Which in thy Sorrows may involve the King.
Revere just Heav'n, implore auspicious Days,
While in my Cell I offer Pray'r and Praise.
[Exit Eu.
Some new Addition to the Ills we bear.
My boding Mind foresees some Danger nigh,
And baleful Clouds around us threatning fly.
Beware, lest from thy House the Cause shou'd spring,
Which in thy Sorrows may involve the King.
Revere just Heav'n, implore auspicious Days,
While in my Cell I offer Pray'r and Praise.
[Exit Eu.
7
The Bard unpractis'd in the Deeds of Arms,
Unus'd to Danger, dreads approaching Death.
In all the Forms the griesly Monster wears,
Dealing Destruction striding o'er the Plain,
Unmov'd have I beheld, and dar'd his Rage:
While by your Favour I was rais'd to Pow'r,
When each succeeding Minute brought new Joys,
Life seem'd a Toy, a vain and fleeting Bubble.
What now remains, what have I now to wish,
But to lay down this cumb'rous Load of Clay?
O B.
The Bard imprints new Terrors on my Mind:
Future Events are oft to him reveal'd.
Happy! Could we avoid what is foreseen;
But Fate must have it's Course, or 'twere not Fate.
But yet from Præscience this Advantage springs,
The Mind is arm'd to bear impending Ills.
Her.
Five Sons I once cou'd boast, and in their Death
I glory still. For you, for Liberty
They fell: Nor unreveng'd; surrounding Heaps
Of slaughter'd Foes proclaim'd how well they fought.
One Daughter yet remains, my only Comfort;
Her pious, tender Care allays my Griefs.
When I return from War, she binds my Wounds,
And washes off the streaming Blood with Tears.
Lest from my House some new Disaster springs,
To obviate those Ills the Bard foresees.
Take then my only Child, for me an old
And sapless Trunk, 'tis a mean Sacrifice,
My Agnes take, let her the Victim prove,
Attone for our Misdeeds, and Heav'n appease.
O B.
May'st thou hereafter find full Recompence!—
How fall'n, how groveling is a Monarch's State,
When he can only with a Wish reward!
Enter O Connor.
O Connor comes to mourn a Father's Loss,
To place another Death to my Account.—
How fall'n, how groveling is a Monarch's State,
When he can only with a Wish reward!
Enter O Connor.
O Connor comes to mourn a Father's Loss,
To place another Death to my Account.—
8
Beware ye Kings of this fantastick Globe,
Beware how ye engage in impious Wars!
Let not Ambition to extend your Sway,
No feign'd Pretence of Injuries receiv'd,
No rash Resentments urge ye to take Arms:
Be these no Motives to destroy Mankind,
To give a Loose to Murder, Rapine, Lust.
When all this Train of Ills in fierce Array
Appears, how shall we stand the dreadful Charge!
Beware how ye engage in impious Wars!
Let not Ambition to extend your Sway,
No feign'd Pretence of Injuries receiv'd,
No rash Resentments urge ye to take Arms:
Be these no Motives to destroy Mankind,
To give a Loose to Murder, Rapine, Lust.
When all this Train of Ills in fierce Array
Appears, how shall we stand the dreadful Charge!
O Con.
Health to the King! May each succeeding Day
Produce new Joys, and add to those I bring.
O B.
My Ears are unacquainted with that Sound.
From one less faithful than O Connor is,
I shou'd suspect it meant to mock my Griefs.
O Con.
Banish those Thoughts; Propitious Fate begins
To smile. An Officer is now arriv'd,
Sent by O Neil, the brave Ultonian King.
His Country lately ravag'd by the Dane,
Loaded with Burthens under which we groan,
Exults with Joy, redeem'd from Servitude.
Thrice has that gallant Prince, with Slaughter vast,
Forced the insulting Foe to quit the Field;
And wise to prosecute the bless'd Success,
With equal Fortune storm'd their Forts and Towns,
And all Ultonia owns her native Lord.
O B.
Thanks be to Heav'n! Rejoice my Friends, rejoice!
That Part of our dear Country has procur'd
Their Liberty, and triumphs o'er the Dane.
But let no Acclamations shew our Thoughts,
Our Joys, howe'er transporting, be conceal'd.
Else may the lazy Dane awake from Sleep,
Start from his Riot, and forsake his Bowl,
To satiate his dire Vengeance with our Blood.
9
His Pride may be controul'd, when most secure.
O Neil despising Rest, thirsty of Fame,
Impatient to review Sabina's Charms,
Swift, as our Hounds pursue the rav'nous Wolf,
Marches his Army to attack the Foe,
And dare the proud Turgesius to the Field.
O B.
Thy welcome Tydings have reviv'd my Soul;
New Hopes arise, new Ardor fills my Mind.
Enter Agnes.
Ag.
The Princess, Sir, this Moment has receiv'd
Another Message from th'Ultonian Prince,
And wou'd impart it to your Majesty.
O B.
'Tis well; 'tis Confirmation of Success.—
Robb'd of my Realm, stripp'd of my native Right.
Vanquish'd, oppress'd, surrounded by the Foe,
Fain wou'd my Mind some Comfort entertain.—
Robb'd of my Realm, stripp'd of my native Right.
Vanquish'd, oppress'd, surrounded by the Foe,
Fain wou'd my Mind some Comfort entertain.—
Distant my Hopes, uncertain of my Fate,
Enclos'd with Dangers, I will tread the Road
That leads to Empire, Liberty and Fame.
Enclos'd with Dangers, I will tread the Road
That leads to Empire, Liberty and Fame.
The Traveller thus wandring in the Night,
Afar descries a Lamp with glimm'ring Light:
Thither his tedious Journey he directs,
Nor on the Danger of the Road reflects:
The Thorns and Pits he slights, with Toil opprest,
And chears his Labours with the Hopes of Rest.
Afar descries a Lamp with glimm'ring Light:
Thither his tedious Journey he directs,
Nor on the Danger of the Road reflects:
The Thorns and Pits he slights, with Toil opprest,
And chears his Labours with the Hopes of Rest.
[Exeunt O Brien and Herimon.
O Con.
Stay, Agnes! stay, Oh may this bless'd Account,
These pleasing Hopes our Freedom to regain,
So drown thy Sorrows, so transport thy Soul,
That thy glad Ears may listen to my Vows,
And Love find Entrance to complete my Joys.
Ag.
And hast thou Leisure to reflect on Love?
Just on the Verge of Death; nay worse, our Lives
Depending on the Favour of the Dane.
10
Thy King, thy Country, call on thee for Aid.
The brave O Neil this Moment will arrive,
Leaving his Army to consult the King,
How best the Danish Force may be attack'd.
Talk'st thou of Love in this important Hour?
O Con.
The brave O Neil arrives, compell'd by Love.
'Tis Love, Almighty Love points out his Way;
Not to consult, but to behold the Princess,
To view her Charms, and draw new Vigour thence.
He comes to love, to be belov'd; oh Joy!
Proceeds that Blessing from his Fame in War?
E'er he was skill'd in Arms, his Passion pleas'd.
Or is he aided by his noble Blood?
I, without boasting can alledge the same.
From the renown'd Milesius we descend,
From that illustrious Source our Monarch springs.—
'Tis Love, Almighty Love points out his Way;
Not to consult, but to behold the Princess,
To view her Charms, and draw new Vigour thence.
He comes to love, to be belov'd; oh Joy!
Proceeds that Blessing from his Fame in War?
E'er he was skill'd in Arms, his Passion pleas'd.
Or is he aided by his noble Blood?
I, without boasting can alledge the same.
From the renown'd Milesius we descend,
From that illustrious Source our Monarch springs.—
Wretch that I am, what talk I of Descent!
'Twere well, cou'd we our Ancestry forget
In this our abject State.
Our Griefs swell higher, when recording Bards
Sing to their Harps the mighty Deeds of Ir,
The hundred Battles by Milesius gain'd,
And paint Gadelus Fame, and shew us sprung from them.
'Twere well, cou'd we our Ancestry forget
In this our abject State.
Our Griefs swell higher, when recording Bards
Sing to their Harps the mighty Deeds of Ir,
The hundred Battles by Milesius gain'd,
And paint Gadelus Fame, and shew us sprung from them.
Ag.
Where are the Guardians of our Holy Faith!
Where the Protectors of our once blessed Isle!
Have they withdrawn their Care, when we forbore
To emulate the Deeds by them perform'd,
And wander'd from the virtuous Paths they trod?
O Con.
Few Days, perhaps, few Hours may pass,
E'er Heav'n may smile and bless our brave Attempt.
In this short Pause, give Leave to talk of Love;
Love will new edge my Sword, new-point my Dart,
And rouze that Courage, now by Cares oppress'd.
Ag.
Oh I have Terror at the Sound of Love!
Erric the Dane presumes to talk of Love,
And thinks it Honour from a Victor's Mouth.
11
I must receive the Visits I abhorr.
Then talk of Love, this galling Yoak remov'd,
Then urge thy Passion when the Dane's subdu'd.
O Con.
If the Success of War prevails in Love,
Fortune has left me little room to hope:
Erric the Victor has the best Pretence.
Ag.
Not so Hibernian Maids bestow their Hearts;
To Valour, join'd with Virtue, kind we prove,
Slow to be won, but faithful in our Love.
Let other Maids an easy Present make,
And soon confess their Love, and soon forsake.
But let thy Thoughts to nobler Aims aspire,
Not only kindle, but increase the Fire.
Thy faithful Passion by thy Deeds attest,
He shews most Love, who serves his Country best.
[Exeunt.
| Hibernia Freed | |