University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

The Street.
ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS.
ATHRIDATES.
Revenge at length is mine: on yonder towers
The Cappadocian banners proudly wave
And wanton in the gale. The fierce Pharnaces,
A lion in the toils, within his palace
Hides his dishonour'd head.

ARTAXIAS.
Ill-fated prince!

ATHRIDATES.
Dost thou lament him? By th' unburied dead
Sent by my conquering sword this day to seek
The gloomy borders of stern Pluto's reign,
Another word like that, and to the shades
Thy trembling ghost shall follow.

ARTAXIAS.
When I view
The dreadful carnage of this day of blood;
See this fair city, which the dawn beheld
The pride of Asia, humbled in the dust;
Her slaughter'd citizens; her blazing domes;
Her infants, clinging round their dying mothers;
Forgive me, sir; if, loyal as I am,
I drop the tear humane.

ATHRIDATES.
Reserve thy tears;
If for my foes they fall, those tears are treason.

ARTAXIAS.
My sword, my arm, my life, O king! are yours;
The feelings of my heart, the sacred drops
Of generous pity, heaven alone controuls.

ATHRIDATES.
Keep them for heaven, nor damp thy master's triumph
With inauspicious sorrows.

ARTAXIAS.
Spare at least
A child in Thamyris.

ATHRIDATES.
Thou plead'st in vain:
No, heaven be witness, I will ne'er withdraw
The fiends of carnage, 'till the sierce Pharnaces,
His queen (no more my daughter), and their son,
The bond of their detested union, glut
The ravening vulture's hunger. Let her perish:—
She dies,—this sword—or rather let her live;
Live to drink up the bitter cup of shame;
To swell the triumph of victorious Rome;
In chains, to follow the proud car of Cæsar,
And learn to scorn a father.

ARTAXIAS.
Can your heart,
To pity dead, forget her infant charms,
Her springing dawn of beauty?

ATHRIDATES.
Speak not of her:
Speak of revenge: of slaughter, horrors,—death;
Her disobedience draws the righteous sword,
And I am but the delegate of heaven,
To strike the destin'd blow.

SCENE II.

ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS, ORCHANES.
ORCHANES.
From brave Domitius—

ATHRIDATES.
Has he too conquer'd? my impatient spirit
Prevents the step of time.

ORCHANES.
Great Athridates,
Be all thy days like this! Thy foes give way
On every side: Domitius has attack'd
Yon hostile camp; unequal to the conflict,
Their vanquish'd siles retire.

ATHRIDATES.
For this shall bleed
The snowy herd on dread Bellona's altar,
In grateful sacrifice.

ORCHANES.
The rest, my voice
Unwillingly relates—

ATHRIDATES.
Ha! say'st thou—speak!—

ORCHANES.
This moment, from the ramparts, I beheld
Pharnaces pass the gate, which, near his palace,
Leads to the royal tent.

ATHRIDATES.
Escap'd!—confusion!—

ORCHANES.
He but escap'd to make his fall more fatal,
More glorious your revenge. Domitius' troops,
With closing ranks, almost surround his camp,
Nor can his presence save his faithful bands
From Rome's all-conquering legions.

ATHRIDATES.
Yet one way
My power can reach his heart,—his queen,—his son—
Haste, force the palace gates; secure them both;
My eager fury will not brook delay.

SCENE III.

The Palace.
THAMYRIS, XIPHARES.
THAMYRIS.
By sorrow led, unknowing where I wander,
Through each apartment of this once-lov'd palace
I trace my chearless way. Pale fear and terror,
The sad attendants on a state like mine,
Have from this heart, oppress'd with keenest anguish,
Chac'd every lucid ray of expectation.

XIPHARES.
Great God of battles!
If dearer far to heaven than hecatombs
A monarch's virtues, justice, mercy, truth,
Firm faith unspotted, valor still chastis'd
By mild compassion, grace Pharnaces' reign,
Auspicious hear! and aid the prince who draws
Constrain'd th' unwilling sword! the prince who wars
Not to destroy, but save!

SCENE IV.

THAMYRIS, ARTABANES, XIPHARES.
ARTABANES.
My gracious queen!
With hasty step, advancing to the palace,
This way the Cappadocian troops advance,
Led by their haughty lord: a glittering grove
Of hostile spears play in the quivering sun-beams,
And emulate the day. This regal dome
Affords a poor precarious hour of safety.

THAMYRIS.
Xiphares, haste: Do thou conduct my child.
If he is safe, my soul unmov'd can meet
The wildest rage of fate—away—away,
Thou know'st the winding path,—the dark abode,
Where sleep th' illustrious heroes of his race.
Even Athridates, cruel as he is,
Will fear to violate the awful tomb.
[Clashing of swords.
This instant fly, the murderous band approach.

SCENE V.

THAMYRIS. ARTABANES.
THAMYRIS.
Throw wide the gates; resistance now is vain:
The raging storm in thunder breaks above us,—
But I will meet it.—

SCENE VI.

THAMYRIS, ATHRIDATES, ARTABANES.
ARTABANES.
Ha! my father here!
My trembling heart recoils.—

ATHRIDATES.
Imperious woman!
Hast thou forgot me?

THAMYRIS.
Wou'd I could forget
This day of matchless horrors!

ATHRIDATES.
Her stern eyes
Disdainful fix'd on earth, she meets with scorn
The father she abandon'd. Say, obdurate,
Ere on thy head the vengeful steel descends,
Where hast thou hid my victim? the remains
Of Mithridates' race? the impious pledge
Of thy unhallow'd nuptials?

THAMYRIS.
'Midst yon heaps,
Yon slaughter'd heaps, where age and infancy
Promiscuous swell the dreadful carnage, seek
His unprotected innocence. But where,
Inhuman? tell me,—where is my Pharnaces?
Where are my murder'd people!—kingdom!—throne!
All, all, my unsuspecting, woman's, heart,
Betray'd to Athridates.—My fond wish
To hail once more the tender name of father,
To kiss that hand rever'd, and sue for pardon;
My weak, mistaken, filial piety,
Have pierc'd with tenfold wounds this bleeding land,
And wing'd the arrow to my husband's heart.

ATHRIDATES.
'Tis well, this arrogance becomes a daughter.

THAMYRIS.
Becomes a queen: thy cruelty has raz'd
Each tender name from nature's beauteous volume,
And clos'd the fond account. No more a daughter
Implores a father's smile; but majesty,
Offended, wounded, injur'd, majesty,
Meets its oppressor. Powerful as thou art,
Lord of my fate, I rise superior to thee
For thou hast broke thy faith.

ATHRIDATES.
Why waste I words?
The king, the conqueror, demands his captive:
Produce thy son, or instant death, embitter'd
By keenest tortures, waits thee.

THAMYRIS.
Vain these threats;
A mother's bosom, trembling for her child,
One fear alone can know.

ATHRIDATES.
Thou fear'st for him!—
He lives then!—but 'tis well—be still that fear
Thy curse, 'till vengeance comes! Thou canst not long
Conceal him from my search:—A father's justice
Shall reach that heart relentless, and inflict
Pangs I could almost pity.—In that hour,
That trying hour, to meet with heart unmov'd
The sword of Rome, and brave a father's vengeance,
What god omnipotent shall give thee courage?

THAMYRIS.
The god within the soul,—despair,—myself.

ATHRIDATES.
Soon shalt thou meet the trial: summon all
Thy boasted fortitude.—The hour approaches.

SCENE VII.

THAMYRIS, ATHRIDATES, ARTABANES, ARTAXIAS, ORCHANES.
ORCHANES.
Great Athridates o'er the lonely palace,
In vain, at thy command, we sought the prince:
In some unknown retreat, from every eye
The queen conceals her son.

THAMYRIS.
Beyond thy power
He lives, protected by th' immortal gods.
Yes, thy allies, from Tyber's faithless banks,
Shall want the noblest trophy of the war;
My child shall mock their fury.

SCENE VIII.

ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS, ORCHANES.
ATHRIDATES.
Woman's rage,
Though fierce, is harmless as the missive dart
From childhood's feeble arm. Do thou, Orchanes,
At distance wait the queen; observe her steps,
But leave them free.

SCENE IX.

ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS.

Sincere and undisguis'd
As fond, believing, smiling infancy,
Suspicion dwells not with her; yet her spirit
To fear superior rises. Fraudful guile,
Not force, must gain my purpose. To the snare
Maternal love will guide her. Led by terror,
And anxious to elude my threaten'd vengeance,
When unrestrain'd, her busy thought will weave
Th' insidious web, in which herself, intangled,
Will meet more sure destruction.

ARTAXIAS.
Gracious king!
See me implore you for a once-lov'd daughter,
Now fall'n from power, the captive of your arms,
Whose weakness pleads for mercy.

ATHRIDATES.
Power of Vengeance!
To thee my vows are paid! The great resolve,
The hardy deed are thine! Let my brave troops
[To Artaxias.
Find from their arduous toils a short repose:
That done, again they draw the glittering steel,
And join yon camp. The word be Victory.

SCENE X.

The Garden of the Palace; the Scene terminated by a dark Grove, leading to the Tomb of Mithridates, a Part of which appears at a Distance through the Trees.
ARTABANES, TIGRANES.
ARTABANES.
A dreadful interval of solemn silence
Succeeds the tumult of the raging battle,
And through Sinope reigns. O'er all the city
No sound is heard, except a falling murmur,
Which, less and less, expires upon the ear,
Like the soft trembling of the settled deep,
After the storm subsides.

TIGRANES.
A calm like this
Precedes the baleful tempest. Still in arms
The troops of Athridates silent wait
Their cruel master's will.

ARTABANES.
The moments teem
Eventful, and the coming hour decides
Whether the trembling sons of Pontus bow
Beneath the yoke of foreign tyranny,
Or, crown'd with conquest, on their native lord
Delighted gaze, and raise the song to heaven.

TIGRANES.
If yet Pharnaces lives, ye gods protect him!
Protect this gracious image of yourselves,
Who, midst the horrors of relentless war,
Has made a nation blest.

ARTABANES.
When fierce invasion
Roll'd like a torrent o'er th' affrighted land,
Have we not seen him, terrible in fight,
As Mars resistless, point the glittering spear,
As war were his delight? yet to his people
Gentle as Maia's son, as Themis just,
Benignant as the god who strikes the lyre,
And leads, serene, the radiant pomp of day.

TIGRANES.
Behold the queen! Along the verdant grove,
Which from the noontide fervor shades the palace,
And, winding, leads to Mithridates' tomb,
Her footsteps haste: with wild enquiring glance
Her piercing eye pervades th' umbrageous gloom:
She stops, she listens, like the trembling hind,
Which from the hunters rage conceals her young,
And pants, alarm'd, whene'er the rustling leaf
By Zephyr's breath is fann'd.

ARTABANES.
The gates unfold:
Xiphares meets her step. Respect her sorrows;
At distance let us wait, to guard her back
With duteous care in safety to the palace.

SCENE XI.

The Place of Sepulchre of the Kings of Pontus; several magnificent Tombs; in the Middle of the Stage that of Mithridates.
(A faint Light just makes the Tombs visible.)
THAMYRIS, leading EUMENES; XIPHARES attending.
THAMYRIS.
'Tis past! I heard distinct the fatal knell;
The conquering shout from Rome's embattled legions.
Pharnaces falls!—the husband, father, king;
The idol of his people, the last hope
Of wretched Pontus.—O, too greatly daring!
In vain I wept, I kneel'd. Thou dearest object
Of a fond mother's love, her fears, her sorrows!
The fatal hour is come, and we must die.
Thy father's spirit calls. Immortal Powers!
Who pour'd into my bosom woman's softness,
If you decree this trembling hand must shed
The blood of innocence, O steel my soul,
And mould my heart to all my father's fierceness.

XIPHARES.
O shade rever'd of mighty Mithridates!
Ye sacred manes of a line of heroes!
Protect your royal offspring!

THAMYRIS.
Ever faithful
To Mithridates' house, to thee I trust
My soul's last hope; perhaps thy infant king.
Within this awful mansion of the dead
Awhile conceal his helpless innocence.
Sole hope of my sad heart, why bend on me
Those tender beams, which harrow up my soul!
Why dost thou tremble? Why retire thy steps?
The good Xiphares will attend thee still.

XIPHARES.
Whate'er your purpose, royal Thamyris,
Each moment now is precious.

THAMYRIS.
My belov'd!
Yield to thy fate: receive this kiss, and live;
For me, this awful pile, the sad asylum
Of all my soul holds dear, shall soon receive me.
If death alone can save me from the Romans,
My unembody'd spirit still shall hover
Where'er the gods conduct thee. Go, my child!
I cannot say, farewell!

[Xiphares leads Eumenes to the Tomb; they enter, and the Doors close. Thamyris looks after them.

SCENE XII.

THAMYRIS, ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS, ORCHANES.
ATHRIDATES.
[To Artax.]
Urge me no more. See, from a father's mercy
She flies to this vile tomb, where rest the ashes
Of him my soul detested! What dire purpose
Could from thy palace lead thy erring steps
To this abhorr'd abode? Whom seek'st thou here?

THAMYRIS.
The king of terrors—Death—

ATHRIDATES.
Soon shalt thou find him.
He comes with rapid pace. Approach, my warriors.

SCENE XIII.

THAMYRIS, ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS, ORCHANES.
Soldiers, with Torches and Axes.

This haughty mausoleum of a race
To Athridates fatal, shall no longer
Insult yon azure sky. My swift revenge
Shall level these proud walls, and to the winds
Disperse the ashes of a hostile line.

THAMYRIS.
Thou wilt not sure, with war's impurpled horrors,
Prophane this peaceful tomb of Pontus' kings!
From the cold grave what can a conqueror fear?
O spare this hallow'd dust!

ATHRIDATES.
And can the queen
Of great Pharnaces weep? that haughty spirit
Descend to melt in tears?

THAMYRIS.
True, these fond tears,
These unavailing drops, disgrace the daughter,
The wife, of mighty kings: relentless fury
Would best become my wrongs. Yet hear me, sire!
Revere the gods, and spare th' illustrious dead.

ATHRIDATES.
Advance, and from its deep foundation raze
This tomb, which mocks my vengeance.

[The Soldiers advance. Thamyris snatches a Sword, and stands before the Tomb.
THAMYRIS.
Hence, ye slaves!
He dies who dares approach. The timid dove
Will brave the vulture, to defend her young.

ATHRIDATES.
Instant obey me, or your lives shall answer.
[The Soldiers force open the Tomb, and Eumenes appears, Xiphares (his sword drawn) holding him by the hand. Military Trophies. A Lamp burning within the Tomb.
Propitious powers! at length I hold my victim.

[Thamyris drops the Sword, and falls at the feet of Athridates.
THAMYRIS.
King! father! Athridates! by the blood
From thee deriv'd, which fills these circling veins,
With pity hear me! from thy threaten'd vengeance,
From death, dishonor, and the chains of Rome,
Within this horrid tomb's relentless walls
A mother's love conceal'd him.

ATHRIDATES.
Rise, fond woman.

THAMYRIS.
Thou wilt not shed his blood?

ATHRIDATES.
Hence—Trust a father,
In whom a latent spark of struggling nature
Yet pleads for him, for thee.

[Thamyris rises, goes to the Tomb, and leads Eumenes to Athridates.
THAMYRIS.
I will believe thee.
Come from this dark abode, thou wretched heir
Of an unhappy mother! See, O, king!
This terror of the Romans! the remains
Of an unhappy race by thee pursued.
What canst thou fear from him? Go, my Eumenes;
Embrace those knees; and print obsequious kisses
On that respected hand. My soul's soft darling!
Why dost thou gaze upon me? 'tis not base;
A mother's terrors, and remorseless fate,
Command thy prompt obedience. Kneel, my child.

ATHRIDATES.
Orchanes, to the palace wait the queen:
Her son remains with me.

THAMYRIS.
Thou wilt not part us?
Give, give, one moment to my breaking heart.
Come to my bosom, child of many sorrows!
They shall not tear thee from me.

ATHRIDATES.
Ha! take heed,
Nor let thy fond impatience lanch the bolt
Which stops, suspended o'er him.

THAMYRIS.
From my hand
Receive him, Athridates. If thy fury
Attempt his infant life, may every God
Pour on thy head devoted—Gracious heaven!
What means my rage? I cannot curse a father.

ATHRIDATES.
Artaxias, guard secure Pharnaces' son:
Conduct him to the citadel: thy life
(Observe me well) shall answer for the trust.

THAMYRIS.
Wilt thou not spare him! O, for him, for him!

ATHRIDATES.
Thy agitated soul demands repose.
And my compassion grants it. To the palace
Turn from this scene of horrors. Soon I'll see thee
And fix thy fate with his.

THAMYRIS.
If yet one ray
Of soft paternal tenderness remains!
With pity hear me! hear the mighty voice
Of awful nature! change thy stern decree,
From wild despair save this distracted bosom,
And give Eumenes to a mother's tears!

SCENE XIV.

ATHRIDATES.
Behold his mein, where mixt with infant sweetness,
Dwells the commanding majesty of kings!
There might be danger. Such a radiant dawn
Portends a mid-day sun of dazzling lustre.
But all is well. Now tremble, proud Pharnaces.
The fates enclose them round; my soul exults,
And, raptur'd, hails the hour of great revenge.