University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

A Temple.
Enter Cleora as a Victim, Priests, and People.
Cleo.
Hear ye Scythians, e'er I fall!
Heav'n, hear a Royal Victim's Call.
Ye Pow'rs, my welcome Death forgive!
To meet my Love, my Soul is flying.
Since for him I could not live,
With Joy for him I'm dying.

Enter Thomyris, Guards, Media, and other Attendants.
Tho.
Forbear!—Hold your Impious Hand!
Resign the Royal Maid! 'Tis I command.—
Guards! To my Tent attend her.—
When I Protect, who dares offend her?

Cleo.
Why must I thank you for the Life I hate?
Great Queen, how wretched is my Fate!

[Ex. Cleora, Media, and some Guards.
Tho.
Then what is mine! Was ever known
So griev'd a Mother, or so dear a Son!
He's lost; not vanquish'd, but betray'd.
My Hope, my Joy, my Son, my Darling's dead!
Scythians, here our Loss bewailing,
See my Tears,
Hear my Pray'rs!
Join, join with me till they're prevailing.

Tho.
kneels.]
YE Pow'rs! I for Vengeance call!
Let the Grand Oppressor fall.
Punish our invading Foes,
Revenge our Wrongs, and give the World Repose.
A Shout.]
Hark! This joyful Scythian Shout
Declares the Persian Rout.
'Tis done, Avenging Pow'rs! 'Tis done.
And ev'ry Persian Mother mourns a Son.
AIR.

[Ex. Thom. and the People shout and Ex.