University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Sophonisba, Phoenissa.
Sophonisba.

Phoenissa.
The dream of care!
And think not, madam, Syphax can resign,
But with his ebbing life, in this last field,
A crown, a kingdom, and a queen he loves
Beyond ambition's brightest wish; for whom,
Nor mov'd by threats, nor bound by plighted faith,
He scorn'd the Roman friendship (that fair name
For slavery) and from th'engagements broke
Of Scipio, fam'd for every winning art,
The towering genius of recover'd Rome.

Sophonisba.
Oh name him not! These Romans stir my blood
To too much rage. I cannot bear the fortune
Of that proud people.—Said you not, Phœnissa,
That Syphax lov'd me; which would fire his battle,
And urge him on to death or conquest? True,
He loves me with the madness of desire;
His every passion is a slave to love;
Nor heeds he danger where I bid him go,
Nor leagues, nor interest. Hence these endless wars,
These ravag'd countries, these successless fights,
Sustain'd for Carthage; whose defence alone
Engag'd my loveless marriage-vows with his.
But know you not, that in the Roman camp
I have a lover too; a gallant, brave,
And disappointed lover, full of wrath,
Returning to a kingdom whence the sword
Of Syphax drove him?

Phoenissa.
Masinissa?

Sophonisba.
He:
Young Masinissa, the Massylian king,
The first addresser of my youth; for whom
My bosom felt a fond beginning wish,
Extinguish'd soon; when once to Scipio's side
Won o'er, and dazled by th'enchanting glare
Of that fair-seeming heroe, he became
A gay admiring slave, yet knew it not.
E'er since, my heart has held him in contempt;
And thrown out each idea of his worth,
That there began to grow: nay had it been
As all-possest, and soft, as her's who sits
In secret shades, or by the falling stream,
And wastes her being in unutter'd pangs,
I would have broke, or cur'd it of its fondness.

Phoenissa.
Heroic Sophonisba!

Sophonisba.
No, Phœnissa;
It is not for the daughter of great Asdrubal,
Descended from a long illustrious line
Of Carthaginian heroes, who have oft
Fill'd Italy with terror and dismay,
And shook the walls of Rome, to pine in love,
Like a deluded maid; to give her life,
And heart high-beating in her country's cause,
Meant not for common aims and houshold cares,
To give them up to vain presuming man;
Much less to one who stoops the neck to Rome,
An enemy to Carthage, Masinissa.

Phoenissa.

Sophonisba.
Enough.
Thou need'st not blazon thus his fame, Phœnissa.
Were he as glorious as the pride of woman
Could wish, in all her wantonness of thought;
The joy of humankind; wise, valiant, good;
With every praise, with every laurel crown'd;
The warriour's wonder, and the virgin's sigh:
Yet this would cloud him o'er, this blemish all;
His mean submission to the Roman yoke;
That, false to Carthage, Afric, and himself,
With proferr'd hand and knee, he hither led
These ravagers of earth.—But while we talk,
The work of fate goes on; even now perhaps
My dying country bleeds in every vein,
And the warm victor thunders at our gate.

SCENE II.

Sophonisba, Phoenissa, and to them a Messenger from the Battle.
Sophonisba.
Ha! Whence art thou? Speak, tho' thy bleeding wounds
Might well excuse thy tongue.

Messenger.
Madam escap'd,
With much ado, from yon wide death—

Sophonisba.
No more.
At once thy meaning flashes o'er my soul.
Oh all my vanish'd hopes! repairless chance
Of undiscerning war!—And is all lost?
An universal havock?

Messenger.
Madam, all.
For scarce a Masæsylian, save my self,
But is or seiz'd, or bites the bloody plain.
The King—

Sophonisba.
Ah! what of him?

Messenger.
His fiery steed,
By Masinissa, the Massylian prince,
Pierc'd, threw him headlong to his clustering foes;
And now he comes in chains.

Sophonisba.
'Tis wond'rous fit,
Absolute gods! All Afric is in chains!
The weeping world in chains!—Oh is there not
A time, a righteous time, reserv'd in fate,
When these oppressors of mankind shall feel
The miseries they give; and blindly fight
For their own fetters too?—The conquering troops,
How points their motion?

Messenger.
At my heels they came,
Loud-shouting, dreadful, in a cloud of dust,
By Masinissa headed.

Sophonisba.

SCENE III.

Sophonisba, Phoenissa.
[After a Pause.]
Sophonisba.
And wherefore not? When liberty is lost,
Let slaves and cowards live; but in the brave
It were a treachery to themselves, enough
To merit chains. And is it fit for me,
Who in my veins, from Asdrubal deriv'd,
Hold Carthaginian enmity to Rome;
On whom I've lavish'd all my burning soul,
In everlasting hate; for whose destruction
I sold my joyless youth to Syphax' arms,
And turn'd him fierce upon them; fit for such
A native, restless, unrelenting foe,
To sit down softly-pensive, and await
Th'approaching victor's rage; reserv'd in chains
To grace his triumph, and become the scorn
Of every Roman dame—Gods! how my soul
Disdains the thought! and this shall set it free:

[Offers to stab her self.]
Phoenissa.
Hold, Sophonisba, hold! my friend! my queen!
For whom alone I live! hold your rash point,
Nor thro' your guardian bosom stab your country.
That is our last resort, and always sure.
The gracious gods are liberal of death;
To that last blessing lend a thousand ways.
Think not I'd have you live to drag a chain,
And walk the triumph of insulting Rome.
No, by these tears of loyalty and love!
Ere I beheld so vile a sight, this hand
Should urge the faithful poynard to your heart,
And glory in the deed. But, while hope lives,
Let not the generous die. 'Tis late before
The brave despair.

Sophonisba.
Thou copy of my soul!
And now my friend indeed! Shew me but hope,
One glimpse of hope, and I'll renew my toils,
Call patience, labour, fortitude again,
The vext unjoyous day, and sleepless night;
Nor shrink at danger, any shape of death,
Shew me the smallest hope! Alas, Phœnissa,
Too kindly confident! Hope lives not here,
Fled with her sister Liberty beyond
The Garamantian hills, to some steep wild,
Some undiscover'd country, where the foot
Of Roman cannot come.

Phoenissa.
Yes, there she liv'd.
With Massinissa, wounded, and forlorn,
Amidst the serpents, hiss, and tygers, yell.—

Sophonisba.
Why nam'st thou him?

Phoenissa.
Madam, in this forgive
My forward zeal; from him proceeds our hope.
He lov'd you once; nor is your form impair'd,
Warm'd, and unfolded into stronger charms:
Ask his protection from the Roman power,
You must prevail; for Sophonisba sure
From Masinissa cannot ask in vain.

Sophonisba.
[kneels.

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!

SCENE V.

Masinissa
alone.