University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Enter Erixene and Delia.
Erixene.
'Tis plain! 'tis plain! this Marriage gains her Father:
He join'd to Rome, the Crown. Thy Words were true:
He wooes the Diadem, that Diadem which I
Despis'd for him. O, how unlike our Loves!
But it is well; he gives me my Revenge.
Wed Dymas' Daughter! What a Fall is there?
Not the World's Empire could repair his Glory.

Delia.
Madam, you can't be mov'd too much!—But why
More now than at the first?

Erixene.
At first I doubted:
For who, that lov'd like me, could have believ'd?
I disbeliev'd what Pericles reported;
And thought it Perseus' Art to wound our Loves.
But when the good Antigonus, sworn Friend
To false Demetrius, when his Word confirm'd it,
Then Passion took me, as the Northern Blast
An Autumn Leaf. O Gods! the dreadful Whirl!
But, while I speak, he's with her: Laughs and plays,
Mingles his Dalliance with insulting Mirth;
To this new Goddess offers up my Tears;
Yes, with my Shame and Torture, wooes her Love,
I see, hear, feel it! O these raging Fires!
Can then the Thing we scorn give so much Pain?

Delia.
Madam, these Transports give him Cause to triumph!

Erixene.
I vent my Grief to thee; he ne'er shall know it.
If I can't conquer, I'll conceal my Passion;
And stifle all its Pangs beneath Disdain.

Delia.
The greatest Minds are most relenting too:
If then Demetrius should repent his Crime—

Erixene.
If still my Passion burns, it shall burn inward:
On the fierce Rack in Silence I'll expire,
Before one Sigh escape me—He repent!
What wild Extravagance of Thought is thine?
But did he? Who repents, has once been false:
In Love, Repentance but declares our Guilt;
And injur'd Honour—shall exact its Due.
In vain his Love, nay, mine, should groan in vain!
Both are devoted. Vengeance, Vengeance, reigns!
Our first Love murder'd, is the sharpest Pang
A human Heart can feel.

Delia.
The King approaches.

Enter the King, &c.
King.
Madam, at length we see the Dawn of Peace,
And hope an End of our domestic Jars.
The jealous Perseus can no longer fear
Demetrius is a Roman; since this Day
Makes him the Son of Dymas, Rome's worst Foe.

Erixene.
Already, Sir, I've heard, and heard with Joy,
Th'important News.

King.
To make our Bliss run o'er.
You, Madam, will complete what Heav'n begins;
And save the love-sick Perseus from Despair:
That Marriage would leave Rome without Pretence
To touch our Conquest; and for ever join
To these Dominions long-disputed Thrace.

Enter Dymas.
Erixene.
Tho' Thrace by Conquest stoops to Macedon,
I know my Rank, and would preserve its Due.
With meditated Coldness have I heard
Prince Perseus' Vows; unwilling to consent,
Before restor'd to my Forefathers Throne,
Lest that Consent should merit little Thanks,
As flowing less from Choice, than your Command:
But since the Roman Pride will find Account
In my persisting still; and Philip suffer;
I quit the lofty Thought on which I stood,
And yield to your Request.

King.
Indulgent Gods!
Blest Moment! How will this with Transport fill
The doubtful Perseus, after Years of Pain?

Dymas.
My Lord, I've heard what past, and give you Joy
Of Perseus' Nuptials, which your State requires:
But for Demetrius'—think of those no more.
Far from accepting such a Load of Glory,
I bring, I bring, my Lord, this forfeit Head
Due to my bold Refusal.

King.
Dares the Boy
Fall from his Promise; and impose on thee
Forc'd Disobedience to my Royal Pleasure?

Dymas.
No, my most honour'd Lord, there, there's my Crime:
Fond of the Maid, with Ardour he prest on;
But should I dare pollute his Blood with mine?
But you, Sir, authorize it,—still more base,
To wrong a Master so profusely kind.

King.
That Man is noble on whom Philip smiles.
Come, come, there's something more in this—explain.

Dymas.
Why am I forc'd on this ungrateful Office?
Yet can't I tell you more than Fame has told;
Which says Demetrius is in League with Rome.
Why weds Ambition then an humble Maid,
But to gain me to Treason? What then follows?
They'll say the subtile Statesman plann'd this Marriage,
To raise his Blood into his Master's Throne.
No, Sir, preserve my Fame, let Life suffice.

Enter Pericles.
Pericles.
Sir, your Ambassadors arriv'd from Rome.—

[Presents a Letter.
King.
Ha! I must read it—this will tell me more.
[After reading it.
O Princess! Now our only Comfort flows
From your Indulgence to my better Son.
This dreadful News precipitates my Wish.
To keep rapacious Rome, from seizing Thrace,
You cannot wed too soon: My fair Ally!
What if you bless me, and my Son to-morrow?

Erixene.
Since you request, and your Affairs demand it,
Without a Blush—I think I may comply.

King.
O Daughter! but no more—The Gods will thank you!
I go to bless my Perseus with the News.

Dymas.
Thus the Boy's dead in Empire, and in Love.

[Exeunt King, Dymas, &c.
Erixene.
I triump! I'm reveng'd! I reign! I reign!
Nor thank Demetrius' Treason for a Crown.
Love is our own Cause, Honour is the Gods.
I can be glorious without Happiness;
But without Glory never can be blest.—

Delia.
'Tis well; but can you wed the Man you scorn?

Erixene.
Wed any thing, for Vengeance on the perjur'd.
I'll now insult him from an higher Sphere:
This unexpected Turn may gall his Pride.
Whate'er has Pangs for him, has Charms for me.

Delia.
A rooted Love is scarce so soon remov'd.

Erixene.
If not, the greater Virtue to controul it;
And strike at his Heart, tho' 'tis through my own.

Delia.
I can't but praise this Triumph; yet I dread
The Combat still. And see, the Foe draws near.

Enter Demetrius.
Demetrius.
Erixene!

Erixene.
My Lord!

Demetrius.
My pale Cheek speaks,
My trembling Limbs prevent my faltering Tongue,
And ask you—

Erixene.
What, my Lord?

Demetrius.
My Lord?—Her Eyes
Confirm it true, and yet, without a Crime,
I can't believe it. O Erixene—

Erixene.
I guess your Meaning, Sir, but am surpriz'd
That Dymas' Son should think of ought I do.

Demetrius.
False are my Senses! false both Ear and Eye!
All, all be rather false than her I love!

Erixene.
She past not, Sir, this Way.

Demetrius.
Is then my Pain
Your Sport? and can Erixene pretend
Herself deceiv'd, by what deceiv'd the King?
An Article made use of for your Sake:
A Proof, not Violation of my Love.

Erixene.
I thought not of your Love, nor Artifice:
Both were forgot; or, rather, never known.
But without Artifice I tell you this;
Your Brother lays his Sceptre at my Feet,
And whose Example bids my Heart resist
The Charms of Empire?

Demetrius.
This is Woman's Skill:
You cease to love, and from my Conduct strive
To labour an Excuse. For if indeed
You thought me false, had you been thus serene,
Calm, and unruffled? No; my Heart says, no.
Passions, if great, tho' turn'd to their Reverse,
Keep their Degree, and are great Passions still.
And she who, when she thinks her Lover false,
Retains her Temper, never lost her Heart.

Erixene.
That I'm serene, says not I never lov'd.
Indeed the Vulgar float as Passion drives;
But noble Minds have Reason for their Queen.
While you deserv'd, my Passion was sincere:
You change, my Passion dies. But, pardon, Sir,
If my vain Mind thinks Anger is too much:
Take my Neglect, I can afford no more.

Demetrius.
No, Rage! Flame! Thunder! give a thousand Deaths!
Oh! rescue me from this more dreadful Calm!
This curst Indifference! which like a Frost
In Northern Seas, out-does the fiercest Storm.
Commanded by my Father to comply,
I feign'd Obedience:—Had I then refus'd—

Erixene.
I grant the Consequence had been most dreadful!
I grant that Dymas' Daughter had been angry.

Demetrius.
Ask Dymas with what Rage—

Erixene.
You well might rage,
To be refus'd.

Demetrius.
Refus'd!

Erixene.
He told your Secret;
The King, and I, and all the Court can witness.

Demetrius.
Refus'd! false Villain! O the perjur'd Slave!
Hell-born Impostor! Madam, 'tis most false!
Warm from my Heart is every Word I speak!
The Villain lies! believe the Pangs that rend me;
Believe the Witness streaming from my Eyes,
And let me speak no more.

Erixene.
I do believe
Your Grief sincere. I've heard the Maid is fair.

Demetrius.
Proceed; and thus indeed commit that Crime
You falsely charge on me. The Crown has charm'd you.
How warm this Morning did you press my Flight?
The Cause is plain: An out-rag'd Lover's Groan,
And dying Agony molest our Ear,
And hurt the Music of a nuptial Song.

Erixene.
Since your Inconstancy persists to charge
Its Crime on my Ambition, I'll be kind,
And leave you in Possession of an Error,
Of which you seem so fond.

Demetrius.
Ah! stay one Moment!

Enter Perseus and Pericles.
Perseus.
Erixine!

Demetrius.
Distraction!

[Starting]
Erixine.
'Tis well tim'd.
My Lord, your Brother doubts if I'm sincere,
And thinks (an Error natural to him)
I'll break my Vow to you.—You'll clear my Fame,
And labour to convince him, that to-morrow,
Erixine's at once, a Bride, and Queen.
[Exit Erixine.

Perseus.
When I have work'd him up to Violence,
Bring thou the King, and pity my Distress.

[To Pericles, who goes out.
Demetrius.
On what Extremes extreme Distress impels me?
In Things impossible I put my Trust;
I, in my only Brother, find a Foe;
Yet in my Rival, hope the greatest Friend.
When all our Hopes are lodg'd in such Expedients,
'Tis as if Poison were our only Food;
And Death was call'd on as the Guard of Life.

Perseus.
Why dost thou droop?

Demetrius.
Because I'm dead; quite dead
To Hope; and yet rebellious to Despair;
Like Ghosts unbless'd, that burst the Bars of Death.
Strange is my Conduct?—Stranger my Distress;
Beyond Example both! Who e'er before me
Press'd his worst Foe, to prove his truest Friend?
But tho' thou'rt not my Brother, thou'rt a Man;
And, if a Man, compassionate the worst
That Man can feel; tho' found that worst in me.

Perseus.
What wouldst?

Demetrius.
Unclinch thy Talons from thy Prey;
Let the Dove fly to this her Nest again.
[Striking his Breast.
For, oh! the Maid's unalienably mine,
Tho' now thro' Rage run mad, and turn'd to thee.
How often have I languish'd at her Feet?
Bask'd in her Eye, and revell'd in her Smile?
How often, as she list'ned to my Vows,
Trembling and pale with Agonies of Joy,
Have I left Earth, and mounted to the Stars?

Perseus.
There Dymas' Daughter shone above the rest,
Illustrious in thy Sight.

Demetrius.
Thy Taunt, how false?—
I no less press your Int'rest than my own.
Think you 'tis possible her Heart so long
Inclin'd to me, the Price of all my Vows,
Purchas'd by Tears and Groans, and paid me down
In tenderest Returns of Love divine,
Can in one Day be yours?—Impossible!

Perseus.
If I'm deceiv'd, I'm pleas'd with the Deceit.
How my Heart dances in the golden Dream?
In Pity do not wake me 'till to morrow.

Demetrius.
Then thou'lt awake distracted.—Trust me, Brother!
She gives her Hand alone.

Perseus.
Nor need I more;
That Hand's enough that brings a Scepter in it.
I scorn the Prince who weds with meaner Views.
Her Duty's mine, and I conceive small Pain
From your sweet Error, that her Love is yours.
I'm pleas'd such cordial Thoughts of your own Merit
Support you in Distress.

Demetrius.
Inhuman Perseus!
If Pity dwells within the Heart of Man,
If due that Pity to the last Distress,
Pity a Lover exquisitely pain'd,
A Lover exquisitely pain'd by you.
Oh! in the Name of all Gods, relent!
Give me my Princess! Give her to my Throes!
Amidst a Thousand you may chuse a Love;
The spacious Earth contains but one for me.—
But oh! I rave: Art thou not he, the Man
Who drinks my Groans like Musick at his Ear?
And wou'd as Wine, as Nectar drink my Blood?
Are all my Hopes of Mercy lodg'd in thee?
O rigid Gods! and shall I then fall down!
Embrace thy Feet, and bathe them with my Tears?
Yes, I will drown thee with my Tears, my Blood,
So thou afford a human Ear to Pangs,
A Brother's Pangs, a Brother's broken Heart.

Perseus.
Pardon, Demetrius, but the Princess calls,
And I am bound to go.

Demetrius.
O stay.

[laying hold of him.
Perseus.
You tremble.

Demetrius.
The Princess calls, and you are bound to go?

Perseus.
E'en so.

Demetrius.
What Princess.

Perseus.
Mine.

Demetrius.
'Tis false.

Perseus.
Unhand me.

Demetrius.
What, see, talk, touch, nay taste her like a Bee,
Draw Honey from her wounded Lip, while I
Am stung to Death!

Perseus.
The Triumph once was your's.

Demetrius.
Rip up my Breast, or you shall never stir.
My Heart may visit her! O! take it with you.
Have I not seen her, where she has not been?
Have I not clasp'd her Shadow? Trod her Steps?
Transported trod! as if they led to Heaven!
Each Morn my Life I lighted at her Eye,
And, every Evening, at its Close expir'd.—

[Bursts into Tears.
Perseus.
Fie! thou'rt a Roman; can a Roman weep?
Sure Alexander's Helmet can sustain
Far heavier Strokes than these. For Shame, Demetrius,
E'en snatch up the next Sabin in thy Way,
'Twill do as well.

[going.
Demetrius.
By Heaven you shall not stir.
Long as I live, I stand a World between you,
And keep you distant as the Poles asunder.
Who takes my Love, in Mercy takes my Life;
Thy bloody Pass cleave thro' thy Brother's Breast.
I beg, I challenge, I provoke my Death.

[his Hand upon his Sword.
Enter King and Dymas.
Perseus.
You will not murder me?

Demetrius.
Yes, you and all.

King.
How like a Tyger foaming o'er his Prey!—

Perseus.
Now, Sir, believe your Eye, believe your Ear,
And still believe me perjur'd as this Morning.

King.
Heav'n's Wrath's exhausted, there's no more to fear.
My darling Son found criminal in all.

Demetrius.
That Villain there to blast me! Yes, I'll speak,
For what have I to fear, who feel the worst?
'Tis Time the Truth were known. That Villain, Sir,
Has cleft my Heart, and laughs to see it bleed;
But his Confession shall redeem my Fame,
And reinthrone me in my Princess' smile;
Or I'll return that false Embrace he gave me,
And stab him in your Sight.

King.
Hold, Insolent!
Where's your Respect to me?

Demetrius.
O Royal Sir!
That has undone me. Thro' Respect I gave
A feign'd Consent, which this black Artifice
Has turn'd to my Destruction. I refus'd
That Slave's, that cursed Slave, that Statesman's Daughter,
And he pretends she was refus'd by me.
Hence, hence, this Desolation. Nought I fear,
Tho' Nature groan her last. And shall he then
Escape and triumph?

King.
Guards there! seize the Prince!
The Man you menace you shall learn to fear.

Dymas.
Hold, Sir! not this for me! It is your Son:
What is my Life, tho' pour'd upon your Feet?

King.
Is this a Son?

Demetrius.
No, Sir, my Crime's too great,
Which dares to vindicate a Father's Honour,
To catch the Glories of a falling Crown,
And save it from Pollution. But I've done.
I die, unless my Princess is restor'd,
[pointing to Dymas.
And if I die, by Heav'n and Earth and Hell!
His sordid Blood shall mingle with the Dust,
And see if thence 'twill mount into the Throne.
O, Sir! think of it! I'll expect my Fate.
[Exit Dem.

King.
And thou shalt have it.

Dymas.
How, my Lord, in Tears!

King.
As if the Gods came down in Evidence!
How many sudden Rays of Proof concur
To my Conviction? Was e'er equal Boldness?
But 'tis no Wonder from a Brother King;
[Produces the forg'd Letter.
This King of Thrace—To-morrow he'll be King
Of Macedon.—He therefore dies to-night.

Perseus.
[Aside to Dymas.
And yet I doubt it, for I know his Fondness.
Thou practice well the Lesson I have taught thee,
While I put on a solemn Face of Woe,
Afflicted for a Brother's early Fall.—
Heaven knows with what Regret.—But, Sir, your Safety—

[Presenting the Mandate for Demetrius's Death.
King.
What giv'st thou here?

Dymas.
Your Passport to Renown.
You sing your Apotheosis in that.
What scales the Skies, but Zeal for public Good?

Perseus.
How God-like Mercy?

Dymas.
Mercy to Mankind,
By Treason aw'd.

King.
Must then thy Brother bleed?

[To Perseus.
[Dymas seeming at a loss, Perseus whispers him, and gives a Letter.
Dymas.
No Sir, the King of Thrace.

[Looking on the Letter.
King.
Why that is true—
Yet who, if not a Father, should forgive?

Dymas.
Who Sir, if not a Philip, should be just?

King.
Is't not my Son?

[To Dymas.
Dymas.
If not, far less his Guilt.

King.
Is't not my t'other Perseus?

[To Perseus.
Perseus.
Sir, I thank you.
That seeks your Crown, and Life.

King.
And Life?

Dymas.
No Sir.
He'll only take your Crown, you still may live.

King.
Heav'n blast thee for that Thought.

Perseus.
Why shakes my Father?

King.
It stabs, it gnaws, it harrows up my Soul.
Is he not young? Was he not much indulg'd?
Gall'd by his Brother? Doubted by his Father?
Tempted by Rome? A Nation to a Boy?

Dymas.
O a mere Infant!—that deposes Kings.

King.
No, once he sav'd my Crown.

Dymas.
And now would wear it.

King.
How my Head swims!

Perseus.
Nor strange; the Task is hard.

Dymas.
Yet scarce for him. Brutus was but a Roman:
[Speaking as if he would not have the King hear.
Yet like a Philip dar'd, and is immortal.

King.
I hear thee, Dymas; give me then the Mandate.

[Going to sign, he stops short.
Dymas.
No wonder if his Mother thus had paus'd.

Perseus.
Rank Cankers on thy Tongue, why mention her?

[Aside.
King.
O Gods! I see her now; what am I doing?
[Throws away the Style.
I see her dying Eye let fall a Tear
In favour of Demetrius.—Shall I stab
Her lovely Image stampt on every Feature?

Dymas.
His Soul escap'd it, Sir.

King.
Thou ly'st, be gone.

[Perseus and Dymas in great Confusion, Perseus whispers Dymas.
Dymas.
True, that, or nought will touch him.
[Aside to Pers.
If Sir, your Mercy—

[To the King.
Perseus.
O speak on of Mercy.
Mercy the darling Attribute of Heav'n.

Dymas.
If you should spare him—

King.
What if I should spare him?

Dymas.
I dare not say—Your Wrath again might rise.

King.
Yes, if thou'rt silent—What if I should spare him?

Dymas.
Why if you should—proud Rome would thank you for it.

King.
Rome!—Her Applause more shocks me than his Death.
O thou, Death's Orator! dread Advocate
For bowelless Severity! assist
My trembling Hand, as thou hast steel'd my Heart.
And if it is Guilt in me, share the Guilt.
He's dead. [Signs.]
And if I blot it with one Tear,
Perseus, tho' less affected, will forgive me.

Perseus.
Forgive! Sir, I applaud, and wish my Sorrow
Was mild enough to weep.

[The King going out meets Demetrius in Mourning, introduced by Antigonus.
[King starts back, and drops on Dymas. Recovering speaks.
King.
This, Fate, is thy tenth Wave, and quite o'erwhelms me.
It less had shock'd me, had I met his Ghost.
This is a Plot to sentence me to Death.—
What hast thou done, my mortal Foe! thrown Bars
[To Antigonus.
Athwart my Glory? but thy Scheme shall fail.
As rushing Torrents sweep th'obstructing Mound,
So Phiilp meets this Mountain in his Way,
Yet keeps his Purpose still.

[Perseus and Pericles whisper aside.
Pericles.
I can't but fear it.

Perseus.
I grant the Danger great, yet don't despair.
Jove is against thee, Perseus on thy Side.

Antigonus.
The Prince, dread Sir, low on his bended Knee—

King.
This way, Antigonus.—Do'st mark his Bloom?
Grace in his Aspect, Grandeur in his Mein?

Antigonus.
I do.

King.
'Tis false, take a King's Word.—He's dead.—
That Darling of my Soul would stab me sleeping.
How dar'st thou start? Art thou the Traitor's Father?
If thou art pale, what is enough for me?—
How his Grave yawns, Oh! that it was my own.

Antigonus.
Mourn not the Guilty.

King.
No, he's innocent;
Death pays his Debt to Justice, and that done,
I grant him still my Son, as such I love him;
Yes, and will clasp him to my Breast, while yet
His Clay is warm, nor moulders at my Touch.

Perseus.
A Curse on that Embrace.

[Aside.
Dymas.
Nay worse, he weeps.

King.
Poor Boy, be not deceiv'd by my Compassion;
My Tears are cruel, and I groan thy Death.

Demetrius.
And am I then to die? If Death's decreed,
Stab me yourself, nor give me to the Knife
Of Midnight Ruffians, that have forg'd my Crimes.
For you I beg, for you I pour my Tears;
You are deceiv'd, dishonour'd, I am only slain.
Oh! Father—

King.
Father?—There's no Father here;
Forbear to wound me with that tender Name.
Nor raise all Nature up in Arms against me.

Demetrius.
My Father! Guardian! Friend! nay Deity!
What less than Gods give Being, Life, and Death!
My dying Mother—

King.
Hold thy Peace I charge thee.

Demetrius.
Pressing your Hand, and bathing it with Tears,
Bequeath'd, your Tenderness for her, to me;
And low on Earth my Legacy I claim,
Clasping your Knee, tho' banish'd from your Breast.

King.
My Knees!—Would that were all, he grasps my Heart.
Perseus, canst thou stand by and see me ruin'd?

[Reaching his Hand to Perseus.
Perseus.
Loose, loose thy Hold.—It is my Father too.

King.
Yes, Macedon, and thine, and I'll preserve thee.

Demetrius.
Who once before preserv'd it from the Thracian?
And who at Thracimene turnd the lifted Bolt
From Philip's hoary Brow?

King.
I'll hear no more.
O Perseus! Dymas! Pericles! assist me,
Unbind me, disinchant me, break this Charm
Of Nature, that Accomplice with my Foes;
Rend me, O rend me, from the Friend of Rome.

Perseus.
Nay then, howe'er reluctant, aid I must.
The Friend of Rome?—That severs you for ever;
Tho' most incorporate and strongly knit;
As Lightning rends the knotted Oak asunder.

Demetrius.
In spite of Lightning I renew the Tie,
And stubborn is the Grasp of dying Men.
Who's he that shall divide me from myself?
[Demetrius is forc'd from the King's Knees, on which, starting up, he flings his Arms round his Father.
Still of a Piece with him from whom I grew,
I'll bleed on my Asylum, dart my Soul
In this Embrace, and thus my Treason crown.

King.
Who love yourselves, or Macedon, or me,
From the curs'd Eagle's Talons wrench my Crown;
And this barb'd Arrow from my Breast—'Tis done;
[Forc'd asunder.
And the Blood gushes after it.—I faint.

Dymas.
Support the King.

Perseus.
While Treason licks the Dust.

[Pointing at Demetrius fallen in the Struggle.
Dymas.
A Field well fought.

Perseus.
And Justice has prevail'd.

King.
O that the Traitor could conceal the Son!
Farewel, once best belov'd! still most deplor'd!
He, he who dooms thee, bleeds upon thy Tomb.
[Exit King.

Demetrius.
Prostrate on thee, my Mother Earth, be thou
Kinder than Brother, or than Father; open
And save me in thy Bosom from my—Friends.
Friends, sworn to wash their Hands in guiltless Tears,
And quench infernal Thirst in kindred Blood.
As if Relation sever'd human Hearts,
Or that Destruction was the Child of Love.

Perseus.
Farewel, young Traitor; if they ask below,
Who sent thee beardless down, say, honest Perseus;
Whom Reason sways, not Instinct; who can strike
At horrid Parricide, and flagrant Treason,
Tho' thro' a Bosom dearer than his own.
Think'st thou my tender Heart can hate a Brother?
The Gods and Perseus war with nought but Guilt.
But I must go. What, Sir, your last Commands
To your Erixene? She chides my Stay.
[Exit Perseus.

Demetrius.
Without that Token of a Brother's Love,
He could not part; my Death was not enough.—
I came for Mercy, and I find it here.—
And Death is Mercy since my Love is lost.
Alas! my Father too, my Heart aches for him.
And Perseus,—fain wou'd I forgive e'en thee.
But Philip's Sufferings cry too loud against it.
Blind Author, and sure Mourner of my Death!
Father most dear! what Pangs hast thou to come?
Like that poor Wretch is thy unhappy Doom,
Who while in Sleep his fever'd Fancy glows,
Draws his keen Sword, and sheaths it in his Foes;
But waking starts upright, in wild Surprize,
To feel warm Blood glide round him as he lies;
To see his reeking Hands in crimson dy'd,
And a pale Corse extended by his Side.
He views with Horror what mad Dreams have done,
And sinks heart-broken on a murder'd Son.