University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Masinissa, Syphax in Chains, Narva, Guards, &c.
Syphax.
Is there no dungeon in this city? dark,
As is my troubled soul? That thus I'm brought
To my own palace, to those rooms of state,
Wont in another manner to receive me,
With other signs of royalty than these.

(looking on his chains.)
Masinissa.

Syphax.

Masinissa.
Outragious man!
If that is mercy, I'll be cruel still.
Nor canst thou drive me, by thy bitterest rage,
To an unmanly deed; not all thy wrongs,
Nor this worse triumph in them.

Syphax.
Ha! ha! wrongs?
I cannot wrong thee. When we lanch the spear
Into the monster's heart, or crush the serpent;
Destroy what in antipathy we hold,
The common foe; can that be call'd a wrong?
Injurious that? Absurd! it cannot be.

Masinissa.
I'm loth to hurt thee more.—The tyrant works
Too fierce already in thy rankled breast.
But since thou seem'st to rank me with thy self,
With great destroyers, with perfidious kings;
I must reply to thy licentious tongue,
Bid thee remember, whose accursed sword
Began this work of death; who broke the ties,
The holy ties, attested by the gods,
Which bind the nations in the bond of peace;
Who meanly took advantage of my youth,
Unskill'd in arms, unsettled on my throne,
And drove me to the desart, there to dwell
With kinder monsters; who my cities sack'd,
My country pillag'd, and my subjects murder'd;
Who still pursu'd me with inveterate hate,
When generous force prov'd vain, with ruffian arts,
The villain's dagger, base assassination.
And for no reason all. Brute violence
Alone thy plea.—What the least provocation,
Say, canst thou but pretend?

Syphax.
I needed none.
Nature has in my being sown the seeds
Of enmity to thine.—Nay mark me this.
Couldst thou restore me to my former state,
Strike off these chains, give me the sword again,
The sceptre, and the wide-obedient war:
Yet must I still, implacable to thee,
Seek eagerly thy death, or die my self.
Life cannot hold us both!—Unequal gods!
Who love to disappoint mankind, and take
All Vengeance to your selves; why to the point
Of my long-flatter'd wishes did ye lift me,
Then sink me thus so low? Just as I drew
The glorious stroke that was to make me happy,
Why did you blast my strong extended arm?
Strike the dry sword unsated to the ground?
But that to mock us is your cruel sport?
What else is human life?

Masinissa.
Thus always join'd
With an inhuman heart, and brutal manners,
Is irreligion to the ruling gods;
Whose schemes our peevish ignorance arraigns,
Our thoughtless pride.—Thy lost condition, Syphax,
Is nothing to the tumult of thy breast.
There lies the sting of evil, there the drop
That poisons nature.—Ye mysterious powers!
Whose ways are ever-gracious, ever-just,
As ye think wisest, best, dispose of me;
But, whether thro' your gloomy depths I wander,
Or on your mountains walk; give me the calm
The steady, smiling soul; where wisdom sheds,
Eternal sunshine and eternal joy.
Then, if misfortune comes, she brings along
The bravest virtues. And so many great
Illustrious spirits have convers'd with woe,
(The pride of adverse fate!) as are enough
To consecrate distress, and make even death
Ambition.

Syphax.

Masinissa.
No, Syphax, no.
Thou need'st not charge me. That were mean indeed,
A triumph that to thee. But could I stoop
Again to love her; Thou, what right hast thou,
A captive, to her bed? Nor life, nor queen,
Nor ought, a captive has. All laws in this,
Roman and Carthaginian, all agree.

Syphax.
Here, here, begins the bitterness of death!
Here my chains grind me first!

Masinissa.
Poor Sophonisba!
She too becomes the prize of conquering Rome;
What most her heart abhors. Alas, how hard
Will slavery sit on her exalted soul!
How piteous hard! But, if I know her well,
She never will endure it, she will die.
For not a Roman burns with nobler ardor,
A higher sense of liberty than she;
And tho' she marry'd thee, her only stain,
False to my youth, and faithless to my vows;
Yet, I must own it, from a worthy cause,
From publick spirit did her fault proceed.

Syphax.

Masinissa.
Unhappy man!
And is thy breast determin'd against peace,
On comfort shut?

Syphax.
On all, but death, from thee.

Masinissa.
Narva, be Syphax thy peculiar care;
And use him well with tenderness and honour.
This evening Lelius, and to morrow Scipio,
To Cirtha come. Then let the Romans take
Their prisoner.

Syphax.
There shines a gleam of hope
Across the gloom—From thee deliver'd!—Ease
Breathes in that thought—Lead on—My heart grows lighter!