 | Ulysses |  |
54
ACT V.
SCENE I.
SCENE, the City.Enter severally Mentor and Eumæus.
Eum.
Where is the Joy, the Boast of Conquest now?
In vain we triumph o'er our foreign Tyrants,
So soon to perish by domestick Foes.
Why shone the great Ulysses dreadful, fierce
As Mars, and mighty as Phlegræan Jove?
Why reeks yon' Marble Pavement with the Slaughter
Of Rival Kings that fell beneath his Sword,
Victims to injur'd Honour and Revenge?
Since by the fatal Error of Telemachus,
The Prize for which we fought, the Queen is lost,
Is yielded up a Prey to false Antinous.
Men.
He trusted in the Holy Name of Friendship,
And, conscious of his own Uprightness, thought
The Man whom he had plac'd so near his Heart
Had shar'd as well his Virtues as his Love.
Eum.
How bears the Prince this Chance?
Men.
Alas! Eumæus,
His Griefs have rent my aged Heart asunder;
Stretch'd on the damp, unwholsome Earth he lyes,
Nor had my Pray'rs or Tears the pow'r to raise him,
Now motionless as Death his Eyes are fixt,
And then anon he starts and casts 'em upwards,
And groaning cries, I am th'accurst of Heav'n,
My Mother! my Semanthe! and my Mother!
Eum.
The King, whose equal Temper, like the Gods,
Was ever calm and constant to it self,
Struck with the sudden, unexpected Evil,
Was mov'd to Rage, and chid him from his Sight.
But now returning to the Father's Fondness,
He bad me seek him out, speak Comfort to him,
And bring him to his Arms.
Men.
Where have you left
Our Royal Master?
Eum.
Near the Palace Gate,
Attended by those few, those faithful few,
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When ev'n their utmost Hope is but to die for him.
Men.
That last Relief, that Refuge of Despair
Is all I fear is left us.—From the City
Each Moment brings the growing Danger nearer;
There's not a Man in Ithaca but arms;
A Thousand blazing Fires make bright the Streets,
Huge gabbling Crowds gather, and roul along
Like roaring Seas that enter at a Breach;
The neighb'ring Rocks, the Woods, the Hills, the Dales
Ring with the deaf'ning Sound, while bold Rebellion
With impious Peals of Acclamation greets
Her trait'rous Chief Antinous.—Where is then
One Glimpse of Safety, when we hardly number
Our Friends a Twentieth Part of this fierce Multitude?
Eum.
Yet more, the Samians, by whose Arms assisted
We late prevail'd against the riotous Woers,
By some sinister Chance have learnt the Fate
Of their dead Monarch, and call loud for Vengeance;
With cloudy Brows the sullen Captains gather
In murmuring Crouds around their weeping Princess,
As if they waited from her mournful Lips
The Signal for Destruction, from her Sorrows
Catching new Matter to increase their Rage,
And vowing to repay her Tears with Blood.
But see she comes attended with her Guard.—
Men.
Retire, and let us haste to seek the Prince,
This Danger threatens him; if he should meet 'em,
His Piety would be repaid with Death,
Nor cou'd his Youth or godlike Courage save him,
Unequally-oppress'd and crush'd by Numbers.
[Exeunt Mentor and Eumæus.
Enter Two Samian Captains and Soldiers; some bearing the Body of Eurymachus: Semanthe following with Officers and Attendants.
Sem.
Ye valiant Samian Chiefs, ye faithful Followers
Of your unhappy King, justly perform
Your pious Office to his sacred Relicks,
Bear to your Fleet his pale, his bloody Coarse,
Nor let his discontented Ghost repine,
To think his injur'd Ashes shall be mixt
With the detested Earth of cruel Ithaca.
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Oh Royal Maid, whose Tears look lovely on thee,
Whose Cares the Gods shall favour and reward,
Queen of our Samos now, to whom we offer
Our humble Homage, to whose just Command
We vow Obedience, suffer not the Seaman
T'unfurl his Sails, or call the Winds to swell 'em
'Till the fierce Soldier have indulg'd his Rage,
'Till from the curled Darlings of their Youth,
And from the fairest of their Virgin Daughters,
We've chose a Thousand Victims for a Sacrifice,
T'appease the Manes of our murder'd Lord.
Sem.
Now! now Semanthe! wilt thou name the Murd'rer?
Wilt thou direct their Vengeance where to strike?
[Aside.
Oh my sad Heart!—Haste to dispose in Safety
Your venerable Load, and if you lov'd him,
If you remember what he once was to you,
How great, how good and gracious, yield this Proof
Of early Faith and Duty to his Daughter,
Restrain the Soldiers Fury, 'till I name
The Wretch by whom my Royal Father fell.
Let some attend the Body to the Shore,
The rest be near, and wait me.—
[Exeunt some with the Body; the rest retire within the Scene, and wait as at a Distance.
Enter at the other Door Telemachus.
Tel.
Why was I born? why sent into the World,
Ordain'd for mischievous Misdeeds, and fated
To be the Curse of them that gave me Being?
Why was this Mass ta'ne from the Heap of Matter,
Where innocent and senseless it had rested,
To be indu'd with Form, and vext with Motion?
How happy had it been for all that know me,
If Barrenness had bless'd my Mother's Bed;
Nor had she been dishonour'd then, nor lost,
Nor curst the fatal Hour in which she bore me:
Love had not been offended for Semanthe,
Nor had that Fair one known a Father's Loss.
Sem.
What kind Companion of Semanthe's Woes
Is that, who wand'ring in this dreadful Night
Sighs out her Name with such a mournful Accent?
Ha!—but thou art Telemachus—let Darkness
Still spread her gloomy Mantle o'er thy Visage,
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Tel.
Yes, vail thy Eyes, or turn 'em far from me,
For who can take Delight to gaze on Misery
Fly from the Moan, the Cry of the afflicted,
From the Complaining of a wounded Spirit,
Lest my contagious Griefs take hold on thee,
And ev'ry Groan I utter pierce thy Heart.
Sem.
Oh soft enchanting-Sorrows! never was
The Voice of Mourning half so sweet—oh who
Can listen to the Sound, and not be mov'd,
Not bear a Part, like me, and share in all his Pain?
[Aside.
Tel.
But if perhaps thy Fellow-Creature's Sufferings
Are grown a Pleasure to thee, (for alas!
Much art thou alter'd) then in me behold
More than enough to satisfie thy Cruelty;
Behold me here the Scorn, the easie Prize
Of a protesting, faithless, Villain Friend.
I have betray'd my Mother, I betray'd her,
Ev'n I, her Son, whom with so many Cares
She nurst and fondled in her tender Bosome.
Wou'd I had dy'd before I saw this Day!
I left her, I forsook her in Distress,
And gave her to the Mercy of a Ravisher.
Sem.
Yes, I have heard, with Grief of Mind redoubled,
The too hard Fortune of the pious Queen;
For her my Eyes inlarge and swell their Streams,
Tho' well thou know'st what Cause they had before
To lavish all their Tears: I pity her,
I mourn her injur'd Virtue; but for thee,
Whate'er the righteous Gods have made thee suffer,
Just is the Doom, and equal to thy Crimes.
Tel.
'Tis Justice all, and see I bow me down
With Patience and Submission to the Blow,
Nor is it fit that such a Wretch as I am
Should walk with Face erect upon the Earth,
And hold Society with Man—oh therefore
Let me conjure thee by those tender Ties
Which held us once, when I was dear to thee,
And thou to me, as Life to living Creatures,
Or Light and Heat to universal Nature,
The Comfort and Condition of its Being,
Compleat th'imperfect Vengeance of the Gods,
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Bid 'em strike here, and here revenge—
Sem.
Oh hold,
Stay thy rash Tongue, nor let it speak of Horrors
That may be fatal to—
Tel.
What mean'st thou?
Sem.
Something
For which I want a Name—Is there none near?
[Looking about.
No conscious Ear to catch the guilty Sound?
None to upbraid my Weakness, call me Parricide,
And charge me as consenting to the Murder?
For oh my Shame! my Shame! I must confess it,
Tho' Piety and Honour urg'd me on,
Tho' Rage and Grief had wrought me to Distraction,
I durst not, cou'd not, wou'd not once accuse thee.
Tel.
And wherefore art thou merciful in vain?
Oh do not load me with that Burthen Life,
Unless thou give me Love, to chear my Labours.
Tell me, Semanthe, is it, is it thus
The Bride and Bridegroom meet? Are Tears and Mourning,
This Bitterness of Grief, and these Lamentings,
Are these the Portion of our Nuptial Night?
Sem.
But thou, thou only did'st prevent the Joy,
'Tis thou hast turn'd the Blessing to a Curse;
Live therefore, live, and be, if it be possible,
As great a Wretch as thou hast made Semanthe.
Tel.
It shall be so,—I will be faithful to thee,
For Days, for Months; for Years I will be miserable,
Protract my Suff'rings ev'n to hoary Age,
And linger out a tedious Life in Pain;
In spight of Sickness, and a broken Heart,
I will endure for Ages to obey thee.
Sem.
Oh never shalt thou know Sorrows like mine,
Never despair, never be curss'd as I am.
Yes, I will open my afflicted Breast,
And sadly shew thee ev'ry secret Pain,
Tho' Hell and Darkness with new Monsters teem,
Tho' Furies hideous to behold ascend,
Toss their infernal Flames, and yell around me;
Tho' my offended Father's angry Ghost
Shou'd rise all pale and bloody just before me,
'Till my Hair started up, my Sight were blasted,
And ev'ry trembling Fibre shook with Horror;
59
Tel.
Then let our envious Stars oppose in vain
Their baleful Influence, to thwart our Joys;
My Love shall get the better of our Fate,
Prevent the Malice of that hard Decree,
That seem'd to doom us to eternal Sorrows;
And yet in spight of all we will be happy.
Sem.
Let not that vain, that faithless Hope deceive thee,
For 'tis resolv'd, 'tis certainly decreed,
Fix'd as that Law by which Imperial Jove,
According to his Prescience and his Pow'r,
Ordains the Sons of Men to Good or Evil;
'Tis certain, ev'n our Love and all the Mis'ries
Which must attend that Love are not more certain,
Than that this Moment we must part for ever.
Tel.
How!—Part for ever?—That's a way indeed
To make us Miserable,—Is there none,
No other sad Alternative of Grief,
No other Choice but this?—What, must we part for ever?
Sem.
Oh sigh not, nor complain—Is not thy Hand
Stain'd with my Father's Blood? Justice and Nature,
The Gods demand it, and we must obey:
Yes I must go, the pressing Minutes call me,
Where these fond Eyes shall never see thee more,
No more with languishing Delight gaze on thee,
Feed on thy Face, and fill my Heart with Pleasure;
Where Day and Night shall follow one another,
Tedious alike and irksome, and alike
Wasted in weary Loneliness and Weeping.
Tel.
Here then, my Soul, take thy Farewel of Happiness;
That and Semanthe fly together from thee:
Henceforth renounce all Commerce with the World,
Nor hear, nor see, nor once regard what passes.
Let mighty Kings contend, ambitious Youth
Arm for the Battel, Seasons come and go;
Spring, Summer, Autumn, with their fruitful Pleasures,
And Winter with its silver Frost, let Nature
Display in vain her various Pomp before thee,
'Tis wretched all, 'tis all not worth thy Care,
'Tis all a Wilderness without Semanthe.
Sem.
One last, one guilty Proof, how much I love thee;
(Forgive it Gods!) Ceraunus and the Samians
60
That done, I'll haste, I'll fly, as I have sworn
For thy lov'd sake, far from the Sight of Man,
Fly to the pathless Wilds, and sacred Shades,
Where Dryads and the Mountain-Nymphs resort;
There beg the rural Deities to pity me,
To end my Woes, and let me on their Hills
Like Cyparissus grow a mournful Tree;
Or melt like Weeping Byblis to a Fountain.
Tel.
Since Fate divides us then, since I must lose thee,
For Pity's sake, for Love's, oh suffer me
Thus languishing, thus dying to approach thee,
And sigh my last Adieu upon thy Bosome:
Permit me thus, to fold thee in my Arms,
To press thee to my Heart, to taste thy Sweets,
Thus pant, and thus grow giddy with Delight,
Thus for my last of Moments gaze upon thee,
Thou best—thou only Joy—thou lost Semanthe!
Sem.
For ever I cou'd listen—But the Gods,
The cruel Gods forbid, and thus they part us.
Remember—oh remember me, Telemachus!
Perhaps thou wilt forget me; but no matter,
I will be true to thee, preserve thee ever,
The sad Companion of this faithful Breast,
While Life and Thought remain, and when at last
I feel the Icy Hand of Death prevail,
My Heart-strings break, and all my Senses fail,
I'll fix thy Image in my closing Eye,
Sigh thy dear Name, then lay me down and die.
[Exit.
Manet Telemachus.
Tel.
And whither wilt thou wander, thou forlorn
Abandon'd Wretch!—The King thy Father comes,
Fly from his angry Frown—No matter whither,
Seek for the darkest Covert of the Night,
Seek out for Death, and see if that can hide thee,
If there be any Refuge thou canst prove,
Safe from pursuing Sorrow, Shame and anxious Love.
[Exit.
Enter Ulysses, Eumæus, and Attendants.
Ulyss.
To doubt if there be Justice with the Gods,
Or if they care for ought below, were impious.
Oft have I try'd, and ever found 'em faithful,
In all the various Perils of my Life,
In Battels, in the midst of flaming Troy,
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Swarthy Cimmerians have their dark Aboad,
Divided from this World, and Borderers on Hell;
Ev'n there the Providence of Jove was with me,
Defended, chear'd, and bore me thro' the Danger;
Nor is his Power, nor is my Virtue less,
That I should fear this rude, tumultuous Herd.
Eum.
So feeble is our Band, so few our Friends,
We hope not Safety from our selves, but thee;
In thee our King we trust, in thee thou Heroe,
Favour'd of Heav'n, in all thy Wars victorious.
But see where proud Rebellion comes against thee,
[Shout.
Securely fierce, and breathing bold Defiance;
Now let our Courage and our Faith be try'd,
And if, unequal to thy great Example,
We cannot Conquer like thee, yet we can die for thee.
Shout; Drums and Trumpets: Then Enter Antinous, Cleon and Soldiers.
Ant.
What bold Invader of our Laws and Freedom,
Usurps the Sacred Name of King in Ithaca?
Who dares to play the Tyrant in our State,
And in Despight of hospitable Jove,
Defames our Island with the Blood of Strangers?
Ulyss.
Have you forgot me then, you Men of Ithaca?
Did I for this, amongst the Græcian Heroes,
Go forth to Battel in my Country's Cause?
Have I by Arms, and by successful Counsels,
Deserv'd a Name from Asia's wealthy Shores,
Ev'n to the Western Ocean, to those Bounds
That mark the great Alcides utmost Labours,
And am I yet a Stranger here—at home?
Ant.
And wherefore did'st thou leave those distant Nations,
Thro' which thy Name and mighty Deeds were spread?
We never sought to know thee, and now known
Regard thee not, unless it be to punish
Thy Violation of our publick Peace.
Ulyss.
And dost thou dare, dost thou, audacious Slave,
Thou rash Miss-leader of this giddy Crowd,
Dost thou presume to match thy self with me,
To judge between a Monarch and his People?
If Heav'n had not appointed me thy Master,
Yet it had made me something more than thou art,
Then when it made me what I am—Ulysses.
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Then be Ulysses! Eccho it again,
And see what Homage these will pay the Sound;
[Pointing to the Soldiers.
'Tell 'em the Story of your Trojan Wars,
How Hector drove you headlong to the Shore,
And threw his Hostile Fires amidst your Fleet;
Then mark with what Applause they will receive thee.
Say, Countrymen, will you revenge the Princes
This Wanderer has slain, and join with me?
Omnes.
Antinous! Antinous!
Ant.
What of your Monarch?
Omnes.
Drive him out to Banishment.
Ulyss.
Were there no Gods in Heav'n, or were they careless,
And Jove had long forgot to weild his Thunder,
And dart Destruction down on Crimes like thine;
Yet, Traitor, hope not thou to 'scape from Justice,
Nor let rebellious Numbers swell thy Pride;
For know, Ulysses is alone sufficient
To punish thee, and on thy perjur'd Head
Revenge the Wrongs of Love and injur'd Majesty.
Ant.
And see I stand prepar'd to meet thy Vengeance;
Exert thy Kingly Pow'r, and summon all
Thy useful Arts and Courage to thy Aid;
And since thy faithful Diomede is absent,
Since valiant Ajax, with his Seven-fold Shield,
No more shall interpose 'twixt thee and Danger,
Invoke those friendly Gods whose Care thou art,
And let them save thee; now assert thy Cause,
And render back to thy despairing Arms
The beauteous Queen, whom in Despight of them
And thee this happy Night I made my Prize.
Ulyss.
Hear this, ye Gods! He Triumphs in the Rape,
Most glorious Villain!—But we pause too long;
On then, and tempt our Fate, my gallant Friends,
From this Defier of the Gods, this Monster,
Let us redeem my Queen, or die together:
And, equal to our Great Fore-father's Fame,
Descend and join those Demy-Gods of Greece,
Who with their Blood enrich'd the Dardan Plains,
To vindicate a Husband's Sacred Right.
Shout: Then Enter Arcas Wounded.
Ant.
What means that sudden Thunder-clap of Tumult?
Art thou not Arcas?—Thou art faint and bloody.
63
I have paid you the last Office of my Friendship;
Scarce have I Breath enough to speak your Danger:
The furious Samians, led by young Telemachus,
Resistless, fierce, and bearing all before 'em,
Have from the Castle forc'd the Captive Queen;
Fir'd with Success, they drive our fainting Troops,
And hither urge their Way with threat'ning Cries,
Loudly demanding your devoted Head,
A just Attonement for their murder'd Lord.
Ulyss.
Celestial Pow'rs! Ye Guardians of the Just!
This wond'rous Work is yours, and yours be all the Praise.
Ant.
Confusion!—Wherefore didst not thou proclaim
My Innocence, and warn them of their Error?
Arc.
Behold these Wounds, thro' which my parting Soul
Is hasting forth, and judge my Truth by them,
Whate'er I cou'd I urg'd in thy Defence
But all was vain; with clamorous Impatience
They broke upon my Speech, and swore 'twas false.
Their Queen, the fair Semanthe, had accus'd thee,
And fix'd her Royal Father's Death on thee.
If any Way be left yet, haste, and fly;
Th'inconstant faithless Ithacans joyn with 'em,
And all is lost—What dearer Pledge than Life
Can Friendship ask! Behold I give it for thee.
[Dies.
[Shout.
Ulyss.
They come, Success and Happiness attend us,
Pallas, and my Victorious Son fight for us.
Ant.
Thou and thy Gods at last have got the better.
[To Ulys.
Yet know I scorn to fly; that great Ambition,
That bid me first aspire to Love and Empire,
Still brightly burns, and animates my Soul.
Be true my Sword, and let me fall reveng'd,
And I'll forgive ill Fortune all besides.
[Ulysses, Antinous, and their Parties fight
Enter Telemachus, Ceraunus, and Samian Soldiers, they join Ulysses, and drive Antinous, Cleon, and the rest off the Stage. Then Enter at one Door Ulysses, at the other the Queen, Mentor and Attendants.
Ulyss.
My Queen! My Love!
[Embracing.
Qu.
My Hero! My Ulysses!
Once more thou art restor'd, once more I hold thee
At length the Gods have prov'd us to the utmost,
Are satisfy'd with what we have endur'd,
And never will afflict nor part us more.
64
The Sorrows and the Fears, ev'n yet I tremble;
Ev'n yet the fierce Idea's shock my Soul,
And hardly yield to Wonder and to Joy.
Men.
A Turn so happy, and so unexpected,
None but those over-ruling Pow'rs who caus'd it,
Cou'd have foreseen: The beauteous Samian Princess,
Within whose gentle Breast, Revenge and Tenderness
Long strove, and long maintain'd a doubtful Conflict,
At length was vanquish'd by prevailing Love;
And happily to save the Prince, imputed
To false Antinous, her Father's Death;
Heav'n has approv'd the Fraud of fond Affection,
The just Deceit, a Falshood fair as Truth,
Since 'tis to that alone we owe your Safety.
Enter Telemachus.
Tel.
Here let me kneel, and with my Tears attone
[Kneeling.
The rash Offences of my heedless Youth,
[Ulyss. raises him.
Here offer the first Trophies of my Sword,
And once more Hail my Father King of Ithaca.
Antinous, the Rebel Faction's Chief,
Is now no more, and your repenting People
Wait with united Homage to receive you;
The Strangers too, to whom we owe our Conquest,
Haste to Embark, and set their swelling Sails
To bear the sad Semanthe back to Samos;
Joy like the chearful Morning dawns on all,
And none but your unhappy Son shall mourn.
Ulyss.
Like thee the Pangs of parting Love I've known,
My Heart like thine has bled.—But oh! my Son,
Sigh not, nor of the common Lot complain,
Thou that art born a Man art born to Pain,
For Proof, behold my tedious Twenty Years
All spent in Toil, and exercis'd in Cares:
'Tis true, the gracious Gods are kind at last,
And well reward me here for all my Sorrows past.
[Exeunt.
End of the Fifth Act.
FINIS.
| Ulysses | |