 | Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous |  |
SCENE V.
The Palace—EDOXIA, sola.When will these dark and lowering clouds pass o'er,
And brighter aspects tinge the western skies?
53
And some wild tumult rages loud abroad;
Each face is pale, and every eye's askance,
As wrapt in dark mysterious intrigue:
That Maximus must meditate revenge
There's not a doubt; and when he strikes
'Twill be a deadly blow—his arm disdains
A mean or vulgar stroke—and his bold spirit
Shakes at no resolve—yet 'tis too soon
To execute the deed—his dreaded rage,
Oh! Heaven!—just Heaven restrain!
Hah! who art thou that ent'rest thus abrupt?
[Leo enters hastily in disguise.
Disguis'd, as if beneath a vizard, lurk'd
Mischief and treason—murder—guilt and death!
Leo.
There is no time for leave of audience now;
Haste hence my empress—fly the palace gates
Ere all the avenues are seiz'd by Maximus.
Edoxia.
Is then the emperor slain!
Am I the slave of Maximus?
Forbid it all ye powers of heaven and earth!
Leo.
Thy person may be safe, if not a moment's lost.
Edoxia.
What! like a timid fugitive to fly,
And rove a friendless world from court to court?
Though royalty is toss'd from gale to gale
On fortune's fickle wing, the sportive bubble,
The plaything of her most capricious hour;
Yet know, Edoxia dares to hold a throne,
And has a soul to scourge a traitor's guilt.
And rove a friendless world from court to court?
Though royalty is toss'd from gale to gale
On fortune's fickle wing, the sportive bubble,
The plaything of her most capricious hour;
Yet know, Edoxia dares to hold a throne,
And has a soul to scourge a traitor's guilt.
54
Name thou the first who struck the impious blow
That shakes the glory of the imperial crown,
He'll feel what vengeance 'tis my arm inflicts.
That shakes the glory of the imperial crown,
He'll feel what vengeance 'tis my arm inflicts.
Leo.
Petronius led the band—the cohorts join'd—
Traulista waited at the Campus Martius,
'Till Valentinian enter'd.
The fierce barbarian struck his helmet off,
And, swift as light'ning, fell an hundred blows;
His trembling soul escap'd without a groan;
The army and the Gothic princes cry'd
Long live the emperor, Petronius Maximus.
Edoxia.
Forsook—betray'd—and widow'd in an hour!
Alas! my daughters!—where are the lovely maids?
Are my Eudocia and Placidia safe,
Or are the charms or innocence and worth,
Of virgin beauty, piety, and truth,
The sport of Gothic slaves?
[Enter Princesses.
—Ah! my Placidia!
This tender woe becomes thy filial eye:
Alas, Eudocia!—lovely in thy grief;
I can no more than sighs and tears bestow.
'Tis all I have to lend my hapless children.
Eudocia
Lend not a sigh to me—I am too wretched—
But spare thy tears for those who may be blest.
Edoxia.
My tears for thee can never cease to flow;
Yet tears are but unseemly gifts indeed,
And ill become the soft hymenial hour.
Yet tears are but unseemly gifts indeed,
And ill become the soft hymenial hour.
This was the day, by solemn promise made
His noble sire—Gaudentius might have claim'd
His lovely bride, and seal'd his nuptials
With the fair Eudocia.
His noble sire—Gaudentius might have claim'd
55
With the fair Eudocia.
Eudocia.
Name him no more—
Let me forget that e'er I was belov'd.
Edoxia.
These tears indulge, to bathe his sacred urn,
And while they trickle o'er thy blooming cheek,
Water the willows round thy father's tomb,
Till the brave veteran Ætius shall chace
The bold Petronius from the imperial throne.
Eudocia.
Ah! Ætius!—Oh! happy Rome, if Ætius had liv'd.
Edoxia.
Had Ætius liv'd!—Just gods! what means Eudocia?
Has the monster slain the noble Ætius,
And rais'd so high the mounds of death around,
That justice cannot reach a traitor's heart?
Eudocia.
Great Ætius is dead—spare me the rest,
Nor from my bleeding breast the story wring.
Edoxia.
I'm lost and wilder'd in this mazy path;
What furious fiend presides this awful day!
On every side some spectre ghastly grins,
Through floods of reeking gore, and beckons down
To Hades' dark, benighted, dismal shore.
[Exeunt.
| Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous | |