 | The tragedy of Sophonisba |  |
57
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Masinissa, Narva.Masinissa.
Hail to the joyous day! With purple clouds,
The whole horizon glows. The breezy Spring
Stands loosely-floating on the mountain-top,
And deals her sweets around. The sun too seems,
As conscious of my joy, with brighter eye
To look abroad the world; and all things smile
Like Sophonisba. Love and friendship sure
Have mark'd this day from out their choicest stores;
For beauty rais'd by dignity and virtue,
With all the graces all the loves embellish'd;
Oh Sophonisba's mine! and Scipio comes!
Narva.
My lord, the trumpets speak his near approach.
Masinissa.
I want his secret audience—Leave us, Narva.
SCENE II.
Scipio, Masinissa.Masinissa.
Scipio! more welcome than my tongue can speak!
Oh greatly, dearly welcome!
Scipio.
Masinissa!
My heart beats back thy joy.—A happy friend,
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Rais'd by his prudence, fortitude, and valour,
O'er all his foes; and on his native throne,
Amidst his rescu'd shouting subjects, set:
Say, can the gods in lavish bounty give
A sight more pleasing?
Masinsssa.
My great friend! and patron!
It was thy timely thy restoring arm,
That brought me from the fearful desart-life;
To live again in state, and purple splendor.
And now I wield the sceptre of my fathers,
See my dear people from the tyrant's scourge,
From Syphax freed; I hear their glad applauses;
And, to compleat my happiness, have gain'd
A friend worth all. O gratitude, esteem,
And love like mine, with what divine delight
Ye fill the heart!
Scipio.
Heroic youth! thy virtue
Has earn'd whate'er thy fortune can bestow.
It was thy patience, Masinissa, patience,
A champion clad in steel, that in the waste
Attended still thy step, and sav'd my friend
For better days. What cannot patience do?
A great design is seldom snatch'd at once;
'Tis patience heaves it on. From savage nature,
'Tis patience that has built up human life,
The nurse of arts! and Rome exalts her head
An everlasting monument of patience.
Masinissa.
If I have that, or any virtue, Scipio,
'Tis copy'd all from thee.
Scipio.
No Masinissa,
'Tis all unborrow'd, the spontaneous growth
Of nature in thy breast.—Friendship for once
Must, tho' thou blushest, wear a liberal tongue;
Must tell thee, noble youth, that long experience,
In councils, battles, many a hard event,
Has found thee still so constant, so sincere,
So wise, so brave, so generous, so humane,
So well attemper'd, and so fitly turn'd
For what is either great or good in life,
As casts distinguish'd honour on thy country;
And cannot but endear thee to the Romans.
For me, I think my labours all repaid,
My wars in Afric. Masinissa's friendship
Smiles at my soul. Be that my dearest triumph,
To have assisted thy forlorn estate,
And lent a happy hand in raising thee
To thy paternal throne, usurp'd by Syphax.
The greatest service could be done my country,
Distracted Afric, and Mankind in general,
Was aiding sure thy cause. To put the power,
The public power, into the good man's hand,
Is giving plenty, life, and joy to millions.
'Tis all unborrow'd, the spontaneous growth
Of nature in thy breast.—Friendship for once
Must, tho' thou blushest, wear a liberal tongue;
Must tell thee, noble youth, that long experience,
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Has found thee still so constant, so sincere,
So wise, so brave, so generous, so humane,
So well attemper'd, and so fitly turn'd
For what is either great or good in life,
As casts distinguish'd honour on thy country;
And cannot but endear thee to the Romans.
For me, I think my labours all repaid,
My wars in Afric. Masinissa's friendship
Smiles at my soul. Be that my dearest triumph,
To have assisted thy forlorn estate,
And lent a happy hand in raising thee
To thy paternal throne, usurp'd by Syphax.
The greatest service could be done my country,
Distracted Afric, and Mankind in general,
Was aiding sure thy cause. To put the power,
The public power, into the good man's hand,
Is giving plenty, life, and joy to millions.
But has my friend, since late we parted armies;
Since he with Lælius acted such a brave,
Auspicious part against the common foe;
Has he been blameless quite? has he consider'd,
How pleasure often on the youthful heart,
Beneath the rosy soft disguise of love;
(All sweetness, smiles, and seeming innocence)
Steals unperceiv'd, and lays the victor low?
I would not, cannot, put thee to the pain—
—It pains me deeper—of the least reproach.—
Let thy too faithful memory supply
The rest.
(Pausing)
Since he with Lælius acted such a brave,
Auspicious part against the common foe;
Has he been blameless quite? has he consider'd,
How pleasure often on the youthful heart,
Beneath the rosy soft disguise of love;
(All sweetness, smiles, and seeming innocence)
Steals unperceiv'd, and lays the victor low?
I would not, cannot, put thee to the pain—
—It pains me deeper—of the least reproach.—
Let thy too faithful memory supply
The rest.
Thy silence, that dejected look,
That honest colour flushing o'er thy cheek,
Impart thy better soul.
That honest colour flushing o'er thy cheek,
Impart thy better soul.
Masinissa.
Oh my good lord!
Oh Scipio! Love has seiz'd me, tyrant love
Inthralls my soul. I am undone by love!
Scipio.
And art thou then to ruin reconcil'd?
Tam'd to destruction? Wilt thou be undone?
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With future glories big? the warriour's wreathe?
The glittering files? the trumpets sprightly clang?
The praise of senates? an applauding world?
The patriot's statue, and the heroes triumph?
All for a sigh? all for a soft embrace?
For a gay transient fancy, Masinissa?
For shame, my friend! for honour's sake, for glory!
Sit not with folded arms, despairing, weak,
And careless all, till certain ruin comes:
Like a sick virgin sighing to the gale,
Unconquerable love!
Masinissa.
How chang'd indeed!
The time has been, when, fir'd from Scipio's tongue,
My soul had mounted in a flame with his.—
Where is ambition flown? Hopeless attempt!
Can love like mine be quell'd? Can I forget
What still possesses, charms my thoughts for ever
Throw scornful from me what I hold most dear?
Not feel the force of excellence? To joy
Be dead? And undelighted with delight?
Soft, let me think a moment—no! no! no!—
I am unequal to thy virtue, Scipio!
Scipio.
Fie, Masinissa, fie! By heavens! I blush
At thy dejection, this degenerate language.
What! perish for a woman! Ruin all,
All the fair deeds which an admiring world
Hopes from thy rising day; only to sooth
A stubborn fancy, a luxurious will?
At thy dejection, this degenerate language.
What! perish for a woman! Ruin all,
All the fair deeds which an admiring world
Hopes from thy rising day; only to sooth
A stubborn fancy, a luxurious will?
How must it, think you, found in future story?
Young Masinissa was a virtuous prince,
And Afric smil'd beneath his early ray;
But that a Carthaginian captive came,
By whom untimely in the common fate
Of love he fell. The wise will scorn the page.
And all thy praise be some fond maid exclaiming,
Where are those lovers now?—O rather, rather,
Had I ne'er seen the vital light of heaven,
Than like the vulgar live, and like them die!
Ambition sickens at the very thought.—
To puff, and bustle here from day to day,
Lost in the passions of inglorious life,
Joys which the careless brutes possess above us.
And when some years, each duller than another,
Are thus elaps'd, in nauseous pangs to die;
And pass away, like those forgotten things,
That soon become as they had never been.
Young Masinissa was a virtuous prince,
And Afric smil'd beneath his early ray;
But that a Carthaginian captive came,
By whom untimely in the common fate
Of love he fell. The wise will scorn the page.
And all thy praise be some fond maid exclaiming,
Where are those lovers now?—O rather, rather,
Had I ne'er seen the vital light of heaven,
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Ambition sickens at the very thought.—
To puff, and bustle here from day to day,
Lost in the passions of inglorious life,
Joys which the careless brutes possess above us.
And when some years, each duller than another,
Are thus elaps'd, in nauseous pangs to die;
And pass away, like those forgotten things,
That soon become as they had never been.
Masinissa.
And am I dead to this?
Scipio.
The gods, young man,
Who train up heroes in misfortune's school,
Have shook thee with adversity, with each
Illustrious evil, that can raise, expand,
And fortify the mind. Thy rooted worth
Has stood these wintry blasts, grown stronger by them.
Shall then in prosperous times, while all is mild,
All vernal, fair; and glory blows around thee;
Shall then the dead Serene of pleasure come,
And lay thy faded honours in the dust?
Masinissa.
O gentle Scipio! spare me, spare my weakness.
Scipio.
Remember Hannibal—A signal proof,
A fresh example of destructive pleasure.
He was the dread of nations, once of Rome!
When from Bellona's bosom, nurs'd in camps,
And hard with toil, he down the rugged Alps
Rush'd in a torrent over Italy;
Unconquer'd, till the loose delights of Capua
Sunk his victorious arm, his genius broke,
Perfum'd, and made a lover of the heroe.
And now he droops in Bruttium, fear'd no more,
Sinks on our borders like a scatter'd storm.
Remember him; and yet resume thy spirit,
Ere it is quite dissolv'd.
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Shall Scipio stoop,
Thus to regard, to teach me wisdom thus;
And yet a stupid anguish at my heart
Repel whate'er he says?—But why, my lord,
Why should we kill the best of passions, love?
It aids the heroe, bids ambition rise,
Turns us to please, inspires immortal deeds,
Even softens brutes, and makes the good more good.
Scipio.
There is a holy tenderness indeed,
A nameless sympathy, a fountain-love;
Branch'd infinite from parents to their children,
From child to child, from kindred on to kindred,
In various streams, from citizen to citizen,
From friend to friend, from man to man in general;
That binds, supports, and sweetens human life.
But is thy passion such?—List, Masinissa,
While I the hardest office of a friend
Discharge; and, with a necessary hand,
A hand tho' harsh at present really tender,
I paint this passion. And if then thou still
Art bent to sooth it, I must sighing leave thee,
To what the Gods think fit.
Masinissa.
O never, Scipio!
O never leave me to my self! Speak on.
I dread, and yet desire thy friendly hand.
Scipio.
I hope that Masinissa need not now
Be told, how much his happiness is mine;
With what a warm benevolence I'd spring
To raise, confirm it, to prevent his wishes.
O luxury to think!—But while he rages,
Burns in a fever, shall I let him quaff
Delicious poison for a cooling draught,
In foolish pity to his thirst? shall I
Let a swift flame consume him as he sleeps,
Because his dreams are gay? shall I indulge
A frenzy flash'd from an infectious eye?
A sudden impulse unapprov'd by reason?
Nay by thy cool deliberate thought condemn'd?
Resolv'd against?—A passion for a woman,
Who has abus'd thee basely? left thy youth,
Thy love as sweet as tender as the spring,
The blooming heroe for the hoary tyrant?
And now who makes thy sheltering arms alone
Her last retreat, to save her from the vengeance,
Which even her very perfidy to thee
Has brought upon her head?—Nor is this all.—
A woman who will ply her deepest arts,
(Ah too prevailing, as appears already)
Will never rest, till Syphax' fate is thine;
Till friendship weeping flies; we join no more
In glorious deeds, and thou fall off from Rome?
I too could add, that there is something mean,
Inhuman in thy passion. Does not Syphax,
While thou rejoicest, die? The generous heart
Should scorn a pleasure which gives others pain.
Be told, how much his happiness is mine;
With what a warm benevolence I'd spring
To raise, confirm it, to prevent his wishes.
O luxury to think!—But while he rages,
Burns in a fever, shall I let him quaff
Delicious poison for a cooling draught,
In foolish pity to his thirst? shall I
Let a swift flame consume him as he sleeps,
Because his dreams are gay? shall I indulge
A frenzy flash'd from an infectious eye?
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Nay by thy cool deliberate thought condemn'd?
Resolv'd against?—A passion for a woman,
Who has abus'd thee basely? left thy youth,
Thy love as sweet as tender as the spring,
The blooming heroe for the hoary tyrant?
And now who makes thy sheltering arms alone
Her last retreat, to save her from the vengeance,
Which even her very perfidy to thee
Has brought upon her head?—Nor is this all.—
A woman who will ply her deepest arts,
(Ah too prevailing, as appears already)
Will never rest, till Syphax' fate is thine;
Till friendship weeping flies; we join no more
In glorious deeds, and thou fall off from Rome?
I too could add, that there is something mean,
Inhuman in thy passion. Does not Syphax,
While thou rejoicest, die? The generous heart
Should scorn a pleasure which gives others pain.
If this, my friend, all this consider'd deep,
Allarm thee not, not rouze thy resolution,
And call the heroe from his wanton slumber,
Then Masinissa's lost.
Allarm thee not, not rouze thy resolution,
And call the heroe from his wanton slumber,
Then Masinissa's lost.
Masinissa.
Oh, I am pierc'd!
In every thought am pierc'd! 'Tis all too true.—
I wish I could refuse it.—Whither, whither,
Thro' what inchanted wilds have I been wandering?
They seem'd Elysium, the delightful plains,
The happy groves of heroes and of lovers:
But the divinity that breathes in thee
Has broke the charm, and I am in a desart;
Far from the land of peace. It was but lately
That a pure joyous calm o'erspread my soul,
And reason tun'd my passions into bliss;
When love came hurrying in, and with rash hand,
Mix'd them delirious, till they now ferment
To misery.—There is no reasoning down
This deep, deep anguish! this continual pang!
A thousand things! whene'er my raptur'd thought
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And yet I must—Oh Gods! that I could lose
What a fond few hours memory has grav'd
On adamant.
Scipio.
But one strong effort more,
And the fair field is thine—A conquest far
Excelling that o'er Syphax. What remains,
Since now thy madness to thy self appears,
But an immediate manly resolution,
To shake off this effeminate disease;
These soft ideas, which seduce thy soul,
Make it all idle, unaspiring, weak,
A scene of dreams; to puff them to the winds,
And be my former friend, thy self again?
And the fair field is thine—A conquest far
Excelling that o'er Syphax. What remains,
Since now thy madness to thy self appears,
But an immediate manly resolution,
To shake off this effeminate disease;
These soft ideas, which seduce thy soul,
Make it all idle, unaspiring, weak,
A scene of dreams; to puff them to the winds,
And be my former friend, thy self again?
I joy to find thee touch'd by generous motives;
And that I need not bid thee recollect,
Whose awful property thou hast usurp'd;
Need not assure thee, that the Roman people,
The senators of Rome, will never suffer
A dangerous woman, their devoted foe,
A woman, whose irrefragable spirit
Has in great part sustain'd this bloody war,
Whose charms corrupted Syphax from their side,
And fir'd embattled nations into rage;
Will never suffer her, when gain'd so dear,
To ruin thee too, taint thy faithful breast,
And kindle future war. No, fate it self
Is not more steady to the right than they.
And, where the public good but seems concern'd,
No motive their impenetrable hearts,
Nor fear nor tenderness, can touch: such is
The spirit, that has rais'd Imperial Rome.
And that I need not bid thee recollect,
Whose awful property thou hast usurp'd;
Need not assure thee, that the Roman people,
The senators of Rome, will never suffer
A dangerous woman, their devoted foe,
A woman, whose irrefragable spirit
Has in great part sustain'd this bloody war,
Whose charms corrupted Syphax from their side,
And fir'd embattled nations into rage;
Will never suffer her, when gain'd so dear,
To ruin thee too, taint thy faithful breast,
And kindle future war. No, fate it self
Is not more steady to the right than they.
And, where the public good but seems concern'd,
No motive their impenetrable hearts,
Nor fear nor tenderness, can touch: such is
The spirit, that has rais'd Imperial Rome.
Masinissa.
Ah killing truth!—But I have promis'd, Scipio!
Have sworn to save her from the Roman power.
My plighted faith is pass'd, my hand is given.
And, by the conscious gods! who mark'd my vows,
The whole united world shall never have her.
For I will die a thousand thousand deaths,
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Ere to the lowest wretch, much more to her
I love, to Sophonisba, to my queen,
I violate my word.
Scipio.
My heart approves
The resolution, thy determin'd honour.
For ever sacred be thy word, and oath.
Virtue by virtue will alone be clear'd,
And scorns the crooked methods of dishonour.
But, thus divided, how to keep thy faith
At once to Rome and Sophonisba; how
To save her from our chains, and yet thyself
From greater bondage; this thy secret thought
Can best inform thee.
Masinissa.
Agony! Distraction!
These wilful tears!—O look not on me, Scipio!
For I'm a child again.
Scipio.
Thy tears are no reproach.
Tears oft look graceful on the manly cheek.
The Cruel cannot weep. Even Friendship's eye
Gives thee the drop it would refuse itself.
I know 'tis hard, wounds every bleeding nerve
About thy heart, thus to tear off thy passion.
But for that very reason, Masinissa,
'Tis hop'd from thee. The harder, thence results
The greater glory.—Why should we pretend
To conquer, rule mankind, be first in power,
In great assemblies, honour, place, and pleasure,
While slaves at heart? while by fantastick turns
Our frantic passions rage? The very thought
Should turn our pomp to shame, our sweet to bitter;
And, when the shouts of millions meet our ears,
Whisper reproach.—O ye celestial powers!
What is it, in a torrent of success,
To bear down nations, and o'erflow the world?
All your peculiar favour. Real glory
Springs from the silent conquest of ourselves;
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Save the first slave.—Then rouze thee, Masinissa!
Nor in one weakness all thy virtues lose;
And oh beware of long, of vain repentance!
Masinissa.
Well, well! no more.—It is but dying too!
SCENE III.
Scipioalone.
I wish I have not urg'd the truth to rigour!
There is a time when virtue grows severe,
Too much for nature, and even almost cruel.
SCENE IV.
Scipio, Lælius.Scipio.
Poor Masinissa, Lælius, is undone;
Betwixt his passion and his reason tost
In miserable conflict.
Lælius.
Entering, Scipio,
He shot athwart me, nor vouchsaf'd one look.
Hung on his clouded brow I mark'd despair,
And his eye glaring with some dire resolve.
Fast o'er his cheek too ran the hasty tear.
It were great pity that he should be lost!
Scipio.
By heavens! to lose him were a shock, as if
I lost thee, Lælius, lost my dearest brother,
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A thousand lovely qualities endear him,
Only too warm of heart.
Lælius.
What shall be done?
Scipio.
Here let it rest, till time abates his passion.
Nature is nature, Lælius, let the Wise
Say what they please. But now perhaps he dies.—
Haste! haste! and give him hope—I have not time
To tell thee what.—Thy prudence will direct—
Whatever is consistent with my honour,
My duty to the publick, and my friendship
To him himself, say, promise, shall be done.
I hope returning reason will prevent
Our farther care.
Lælius.
I fly with joy.
Scipio.
His life
Not only save, but Sophonisba's too:
For both I fear are in this passion mixt.
Lælius.
It shall be done.
SCENE V.
Scipioalone.
If friendship pierces thus,
When love pours in his added violence,
What are the pangs which Masinissa feels!
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SCENE VI.
Sophonisba, Phoenissa.Sophonisba.
Yes, Masinissa loves me—Heavens! how fond!
But yet I know not what hangs on my spirit,
A dismal boding; for this fatal Scipio,
I dread his virtues, this prevailing Roman,
Even now perhaps deludes the generous king,
Fires his ambition with mistaken glory,
Demands me from him; for full well he knows,
That, while I live, I must intend their ruin.
Phoenissa.
Madam, these fears—
Sophonisba.
And yet it cannot be.
Can Scipio, whom even hostile fame proclaims
Of perfect honour, and of polish'd manners,
Smooth, artful, winning, moderate, and wise,
Make such a wild demand? Or, if he could,
Can Masinissa grant it? give his queen,
Whom love and honour bind him to protect,
Yield her a captive to triumphant Rome?
'Tis baseness to Iuspect it; 'tis inhuman.
Can Scipio, whom even hostile fame proclaims
Of perfect honour, and of polish'd manners,
Smooth, artful, winning, moderate, and wise,
Make such a wild demand? Or, if he could,
Can Masinissa grant it? give his queen,
Whom love and honour bind him to protect,
Yield her a captive to triumphant Rome?
'Tis baseness to Iuspect it; 'tis inhuman.
What then remains?—Suppose they should resolve
By right of war to seize me for their prize.
Ay, there it kills!—What can his single arm,
Against the Roman power? that very power
By which he stands restor'd? Distracting thought!
Still o'er my head the rod of bondage hangs.
Shame on my weakness!—This poor catching hope,
This transient taste of joy, will only more
Imbitter death.
By right of war to seize me for their prize.
Ay, there it kills!—What can his single arm,
Against the Roman power? that very power
By which he stands restor'd? Distracting thought!
Still o'er my head the rod of bondage hangs.
Shame on my weakness!—This poor catching hope,
This transient taste of joy, will only more
Imbitter death.
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A moment will decide.
Madam, till then—
Sophonisba.
Would I had dy'd before!
And am I dreaming here? Here from the Romans,
Beseeching I may live to swell their triumph?
When my free spirit should ere now have join'd
That great assembly, those devoted shades,
Who scorn'd to live till liberty was lost,
But ere their country fell, abhorr'd the light.
And am I dreaming here? Here from the Romans,
Beseeching I may live to swell their triumph?
When my free spirit should ere now have join'd
That great assembly, those devoted shades,
Who scorn'd to live till liberty was lost,
But ere their country fell, abhorr'd the light.
Whence this pale slave? he trembles with his message.
SCENE VII.
Sophonisba, Phoenissa; and to them a Slave, with a letter and poison from Masinissa.Slave
kneeling.
This, Madam, from the King, and this.
Sophonisba.
Ha!—Stay.
(Reads the Letter.)
Rejoice, Phœnissa! Give me joy, my friend!
For here is liberty! My fears are air!
The hand of Rome can never touch me more!
Hail! perfect freedom, hail!
Phoenissa.
How? what? my queen!
Ah what is this?
(Pointing to the poison.)
Sophonisba.
The first of blessings, death.
Phoenissa.
Alas! alas! can I rejoice in that?
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Shift not thy colour at the sound of death;
For death appears not in a dreary light,
Seem not a blank to me; a losing all
Those fond sensations, those enchanting dreams,
Which cheat a toiling world from day to day,
And form the whole of happiness they know.
It is to me perfection, glory, triumph.
Nay fondly would I chuse it, tho' persuaded
It were a long dark night without a morning,
To bondage far prefer it! since it is
Deliverance from a world where Romans rule,
Where violence prevails—And timely too—
Before my country falls; before I feel
As many stripes, as many chains, and deaths,
As there are lives in Carthage.—Glorious charter!
By which I hold immortal life and freedom,
Come, let me read thee once again.—And then,
To thy great purpose.
(Reads the letter aloud.)
For death appears not in a dreary light,
Seem not a blank to me; a losing all
Those fond sensations, those enchanting dreams,
Which cheat a toiling world from day to day,
And form the whole of happiness they know.
It is to me perfection, glory, triumph.
Nay fondly would I chuse it, tho' persuaded
It were a long dark night without a morning,
To bondage far prefer it! since it is
Deliverance from a world where Romans rule,
Where violence prevails—And timely too—
Before my country falls; before I feel
As many stripes, as many chains, and deaths,
As there are lives in Carthage.—Glorious charter!
By which I hold immortal life and freedom,
Come, let me read thee once again.—And then,
To thy great purpose.
Masinissa to his Queen.
The Gods know with what pleasure I would have
kept my faith to Sophonisba in another manner. But
since this fatal bowl can alone deliver thee from the
Romans: call to mind thy father, thy country, that
thou hast been the wife of two kings; and act up to
the dictates of thy own heart. I will not long survive
thee.
Oh, 'tis wondrous well!
Ye Gods of death! who rule the Stygian gloom,
Ye who have greatly dy'd! I come! I come!
I die contented, since I die a queen;
By Rome untouch'd, unsullied by their power;
So much their terror that I must not live.
Ye Gods of death! who rule the Stygian gloom,
Ye who have greatly dy'd! I come! I come!
I die contented, since I die a queen;
By Rome untouch'd, unsullied by their power;
So much their terror that I must not live.
And thou, go tell the king, if this is all
The nuptial present he can send his bride,
I thank him for it—But that death had worn
An easier face before I trusted him.
His poison, tell him too, he might have spar'd,
These times may want it for himself; and I
Live not of such a cordial unprovided.
Add, hither had he come, I could have taught
Him how to die.—I linger not, remember,
I stand not shivering on the brink of life;
And, but these votive drops, which grateful thus
(Taking them from the poison)
To Jove the high Deliverer I shed,
Assure him that I drank it, drank it all,
With an unalter'd smile—Away.
The nuptial present he can send his bride,
I thank him for it—But that death had worn
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His poison, tell him too, he might have spar'd,
These times may want it for himself; and I
Live not of such a cordial unprovided.
Add, hither had he come, I could have taught
Him how to die.—I linger not, remember,
I stand not shivering on the brink of life;
And, but these votive drops, which grateful thus
(Taking them from the poison)
To Jove the high Deliverer I shed,
Assure him that I drank it, drank it all,
With an unalter'd smile—Away.
(Drinks.)
SCENE VIII.
Sophonisba, Phoenissa.Sophonisba.
My friend!
In tears, my friend! Dishonour not my death
With womanish complaints. Weep not for me,
Weep for thy self, Phœnissa, for thy country,
But not for me. There is a certain hour,
Which one would wish all undisturb'd and bright,
No care, no sorrow, no dejected passions,
And that is when we die; when hence we go,
Ne'er to be seen again; then let us spread
A bold exalted wing, and the last voice
We hear be that of wonder and applause.
Phoenissa.
Who with the patriot wishes not to die!
Sophonisba.
And is the sacred moment then so near?
The moment, when yon sun, those heavens, this earth
Hateful to me, polluted by the Romans,
And all the busy flavish race of men,
Shall sink at once; and strait another state,
New scenes, new joys, new faculties, new wonders,
Rise on a sudden round: but this the gods
In clouds and horror wrap, or none would live!
How liberal is death!—Methinks, I seem
To touch the happy shore.—Behind me frowns
A stormy sea, with tossing mortals thick;
While, unconfin'd and green, before me lies
The land of bliss, and everlasting freedom:
Where walk the mighty dead; all of one mind,
One blooming smile, one language, and one country.
Oh to be there!—my breast begins to burn;
My tainted heart grows sick.—Ah me! Phœnissa,
How many virgins, infants, tender wretches,
Must feel these pangs, ere Carthage is no more!
The moment, when yon sun, those heavens, this earth
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And all the busy flavish race of men,
Shall sink at once; and strait another state,
New scenes, new joys, new faculties, new wonders,
Rise on a sudden round: but this the gods
In clouds and horror wrap, or none would live!
How liberal is death!—Methinks, I seem
To touch the happy shore.—Behind me frowns
A stormy sea, with tossing mortals thick;
While, unconfin'd and green, before me lies
The land of bliss, and everlasting freedom:
Where walk the mighty dead; all of one mind,
One blooming smile, one language, and one country.
Oh to be there!—my breast begins to burn;
My tainted heart grows sick.—Ah me! Phœnissa,
How many virgins, infants, tender wretches,
Must feel these pangs, ere Carthage is no more!
Soft—lead me to my couch—My shivering Limbs,
Do this last office, and then rest for ever.
I pray thee weep not, pierce me not with groans.
Do this last office, and then rest for ever.
I pray thee weep not, pierce me not with groans.
The king too here.—Nay then my death is full!
SCENE IX.
Sophonisba, Phoenissa, Masinissa, Lælius, Narva.Masinissa.
Has Sophonisba drank this cursed bowl?
Oh horror! horror! what a sight is here!
Sophonisba.
Had I not drank, Masinissa, then,
I had deserv'd it.
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Exquisite distress!
Oh bitter, bitter fate! And this last hope
Compleats my woe.
Sophonisba.
When will these ears be deaf,
To misery's complaint? These eyes be blind,
To mischief wrought by Rome?
Masinissa.
Too soon! too soon!—
Ah why so hasty? But a little while,
Hadst thou delay'd this horrid draught; I then
Had been as happy, as I now am wretched!
Sophonisba.
What means this talk of hope? of coward waiting?
Masinissa.
What have I done? Oh heavens! I cannot think
Without distraction, hell, and burning anguish,
On my rash deed!—But, while I talk, she dies!
And how? what? where am I then?—Say, canst thou
Forgive me, Sophonisba?
Sophonisba.
Yes, and more,
More than forgive thee, thank thee, Masinissa.
Hadst thou been weak, and dally'd with my freedom,
Till by proud Rome enslav'd; that injury
I never had forgiven.
Masinissa.
I came with life!
Lælius and I from Scipio hasted hither;
But Death was here before us—this vile poison!
Sophonisba.
With life!—There was some merit in the poison;
But this destroys it all.—And couldst thou think
Me mean enough to take it?—Oh! Phœnissa,
This mortal toil is almost at an end.—
Receive my parting soul.
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Alas, my queen!
Masinissa.
Dies! dies! and scorns me!—Mercy! Sophonisba!
Grant one forgiving look, while yet thou canst;
Or death it self, the grave cannot relieve me:
But with the furies join'd, my frantic ghost
Will howl for ever.—Quivering! and pale!
Have I done this?
Sophonisba.
Come nearer, Masinissa.—
Out! stubborn nature!—
Masinissa.
Misery! these pangs
To me transfer'd were ease.—A moment only!
An agonizing moment! while I have
An age of things to say!
Sophonisba.
We, but for Rome,
Might have been happy.—Rouze thee now, my soul!
The cold deliverer comes.—Be mild to Syphax!—
In my surviving friend behold me still!—
Farewell!—'Tis done.—O never, never, Carthage,
Shall I behold thee more!
(Dies.)
Masinissa.
Dead! dead! oh dead!
Is there no death for me?
(Snatches Lælius's sword to stab himself.)
Lælius.
Hold, Masinissa!
Masinissa.
And wouldst thou make a coward of me, Lælius?
Have me survive that murder'd excellence?
Have me survive that murder'd excellence?
Did she not stir? Ha! Who has shock'd my brain!
It whirls, it blazes.—Was it thou, old man?
It whirls, it blazes.—Was it thou, old man?
Narva.
Alas! alas!—good Masinissa, softly!
Let me conduct thee to thy couch.
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The grave
Were welcome.—But ye cannot make me live!
Oppress'd with life!—Off!—crowd not thus around me!
For I will hear, see, think no more!—Thou sun,
Keep up thy hated beams! And all I want
Of thee, kind earth, is an immediate grave!
Were welcome.—But ye cannot make me live!
Oppress'd with life!—Off!—crowd not thus around me!
For I will hear, see, think no more!—Thou sun,
Keep up thy hated beams! And all I want
Of thee, kind earth, is an immediate grave!
Ay, there she lyes!—Why to that pallid sweetness
Can not I, Nature! lay my lips, and die!
Can not I, Nature! lay my lips, and die!
(Throws himself beside her.)
Lælius.
See there the ruins of the noble mind,
When from calm reason passion tears the sway.
What pity she should perish!—Cruel war,
'Tis not the least misfortune in thy train,
That oft by thee the brave destroy the brave.
She had a Roman soul; for every one
Who loves, like her, his country is a Roman.
Whether on Afric's sandy plains he glows,
Or lives untam'd among Ripbœan snows;
If parent-liberty the breast inflame,
The gloomy Libyan then deserves that name:
And, warm with freedom, under frozen skies,
In farthest Britain Romans yet may rise.
The End of the Fifth Act.
| The tragedy of Sophonisba | |