University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Masinissa, Narva.
Masinissa.
The danger's o'er, I've heard the Syren's song,
Yet still to glory hold my steady course.
I mark'd thy kind concern, thy friendly fears,
And own them just; for she has beauty, Narva,
So full, so perfect, with so great a soul
Inform'd, so pointed high with spirit,
As strikes like lightning from the hand of Jove,
And raises love to glory.

Narva.
Ah, my Prince!
Too true, it is too true; her fatal charms
Are powerful, and to Masinissa's heart
But know the way too well. And art thou sure,
That the soft poison, which within thy veins
Lay unextinguish'd, is not rouz'd a new?
Is not this moment working thro' thy soul?
Dost thou not love? Confess.

Masinissa.
What said my friend,
Of poison? love? of loving Sophonisba?
Yes, I admire her, wonder at her beauty;
And he who does not is as dull as earth,
The cold unanimated form of man,
E'er lighted up with the celestial fire.
Wheree'r she goes still admiration gazes,
And listens while she talks. Even thou thy self,
Who saw'st her with the malice of a friend,
Even thou thy self admir'st her.—Dost thou not?
Say, speak sincerely.

Narva.
She has Charms indeed;
But has she charms like virtue? Tho' majestic;
Does she command us, is her force like glory?

Masinissa.
All glory's in her eye! Perfection thence
Looks from his throne; and on her ample brow
Sits majesty. Her features glow with life,
Warm with heroic soul. Her mien!—she walks,
As when a towering goddess treads this earth.
But when her language flows; when such a one
Descends to sooth, to sigh, to weep, to grasp
The tottering knee; oh! Narva, Narva, oh!
Expression here is dumb.

Narva.
Alas! my Lord,
Is this the talk of sober admiration?
Are these the sallies of a heart at ease?
Of Scipio's friend? And was it the calm sense
Of fair perfection, that, the while she kneel'd
For what you rashly promis'd, seiz'd your soul;
Stole out in secret transports from your eye;
That writh'd you groaning round, and shook your Frame.

Masinissa.
I tell thee once again, too cautious man,
That when a woman begs, a matchless woman,
A woman once belov'd, a fallen queen,
A Sophonisba! when she twines her charms
Around our soul, and all her power of looks,
Of tears, of sighs, of softness, plays upon us;
He's more or less than man who can resist her.
For me, my stedfast soul approves, nay more,
Exults in the protection it has promis'd.
And nought, tho' plighted honour did not bind me,
Shall shake the happy purpose of my heart;
Nought, by th'avenging gods! who heard my vow,
And hear me now again.

Narva.
And was it then
For this you conquer'd?

Masinissa.
Yes, and triumph in it.
This was my fondest wish; the very point,
The plume of glory, the delicious prize
Of bleeding years. And I had been a brute,
A greater monster than Numidia breeds,
A horror to my self; if on the ground,
Cast vilely from me, I th'illustrious fair one
Had left to bondage, bitterness, and death.
Nor is there ought in war worth what I feel;
In pomp and hollow state, like this sweet sense
Of infelt bliss; which the reflection gives me,
Of saving thus such excellence and beauty
From her supreme abhorrence.

Narva.
Masinissa,
My friend! my royal lord! alas! you slide,
You sink from virtue. On the giddy brink
Of fate you stand.—One step, and all is lost!

Masinissa.
No more, no more! if this is being lost.
If this, mistaken! is forsaking virtue,
And rushing down the precipice of fate;
Then down I go, far far beyond the din
Of scrupulous dull precaution.—Leave me, Narva.
I want to be alone, to find some Shade,
Some solitary gloom; there to shake off
This weight of life, this tumult of mankind,
This sick ambition on it self recoiling;
And there to listen to the gentle voice,
The sigh of peace, something, I know not what,
That whispers transport to my heart.—Farewel.