 | Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous |  |
SCENE III.
ÆTIUS—MAXIMUS.Ætius.
Hah! Maximus—
Art thou the last to hail thy friend's success?
Or has long absence blotted friendship out?
Maximus.
Forgive me, Ætius—
I esteem thy virtues—nor envy thee
The laurels, thou hast won: Absence, nor time,
Can e'er obliterate that love, that friendship,
Merit makes thy own, and worth commands:
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Nor can I more until we meet again.
Ætius.
What means this haste? Why that disturbed brow?
Maximus.
Return'd this moment from the Aquilean camp
Where I've been sent with such impetuous speed,
So much unlike the slowness of the emperor,
I scarce believe that he could mean me fair.
Ætius.
What cause is there for doubt? or why suspect?
Maximus.
I think some latent mischief lies conceal'd
Beneath the vizard of a fair pretence;
My heart ill brook'd the errand of the day,
Yet I obey'd—though a strange horror seiz'd
My gloomy mind—and shook my frame
As if the moment murder'd all my joys.
Ætius.
But what excites distrust?
Maximus.
Not like a child am I about to weave
In piteous accents a sad tale of woe:
But if I'm bubbled by a mean device.
No lingering vengeance shall repair my wrongs.
Ætius.
What mean these fears? this agony of doubt?
Maximus.
Thou art a gen'rous and a valiant friend:
I'll not conceal the anguish of my soul,
Nor yet the secret worm that gnaws my heart.
Myself forgot in an ignoble vice,
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Without temptation but in avarice,
A blacker passion still—fate threw the die,
Or by superiour skill the emperor won
My beauteous grottos—my paternal groves—
My pleasant villas—and, meandering streams—
The sweet cascades that gurgled o'er the dales—
The noble busts that mark'd th' Anician name—
My poplar walks—and my Ardelia's bower—
(Those soft retreats of innocence and love)
And thus for once made Maximus a slave.
But ah! he gave a treacherous release;
He only ask'd the signet from my hand
To seal a promise that I'd reach the camp
Where Accimer commands before the eve:
But 'twas a poor, a frivolous pretence;
Yet did I not suspect a base design,
Till I receiv'd, without a signature,
In characters familiar to my eye,
A sentence like a thunderbolt from Jove.
I kiss'd the hand—in raptures broke the seal—
“Read—tremble—and despair—adieu, Petronius!”
Was all the page—the solemn page, contain'd;
And now I haste to find my lov'd Ardelia;
If she's not wrong'd, Petronius Maximus
May still be bless'd.
Ætius.
Though Valentinian doats on beauty's charms,
Ardelia must be safe: True virtue checks
A bold licentious wish, and guards the fair;
He durst not drag an angel to his bed.
Maximus.
As truth and virtue dignifi'd my bliss,
The gods alone who judge of spotless worth,
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Or let their vengeance pour in dreadful peals
Their heated bolts—till chosen curses fall,
In blasts distinguish'd, on the emperor's head.
[Exeunt.
| Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous | |