 | The Siege of Sinope |  |
SCENE I.
An Apartment in the Palace.THAMYRIS, ARTABANES, meeting.
THAMYRIS.
Saw'st thou Artaxias? does compassion touch
My father's soften'd bosom?
ARTABANES.
Such compassion
Feels the fell Tiger for his panting prey.
THAMYRIS.
What mean thy words? I tremble; a cold dew
Hangs on my frame, and chills my vital powers.
Does my Eumenes live? If thou hast pity,
O, tell me whilst I yet have life to hear thee.
ARTABANES.
I saw him smile, unconscious of his fate;
But soon in Roman chains, with you, deliver'd
To stern Domitius' power—
THAMYRIS.
First shall this dagger—
I was prepar'd for death, but not for shame.
Let the devouring faulchion drink our blood,
Let tortures agonize, let flames consume,
Let death approach in all his terrors drest,
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Will give my child, my soul's far dearest part,
Without a groan to his abhorr'd embrace;
But save us, heaven, from the vile chains of Rome!
ARTABANES.
To bondage, to the car of haughty Cæsar,
To shame, to death, your cruel father dooms
The daughter once belov'd, the infant heir
Of mighty Mithridates: yon proud Roman
(Unless the gods assist our monarch's sword,
And drive these fell invaders from our walls)
This night receives, and sends you to the Senates.
THAMYRIS.
My lord! my lov'd Pharnaces!
I have indeed betray'd thee; broke those vows,
Which, dreadful as they were, my lips pronounc'd
Before th' attesting gods.—A moment's pause—
Fond hope will yet intrude: it cannot be:
He will not give a daughter once belov'd,
To glut the pride of Rome. Where hast thou heard
This tale of horror?
ARTABANES.
From the good Artaxias,
Whose tears with mine were mingled as he spoke,
I learnt his cruel purpose.
THAMYRIS.
Lead me to him,—
To Athridates, Cappadocia's tyrant,
This scepter'd murderer, this crown'd assassin,
This scourge of trembling infancy, this—father.
ARTABANES.
My queen! my royal mistress!—
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Forgive, ye awful powers, who know my wrongs,
These ravings of a soul to madness urg'd.
No—not to save my child, did I behold
The fatal steel aim'd at his infant bosom,
Should parricide pollute these guiltless hands.
Great nature's voice arrests my dagger's point;
Spite of his crimes, he is my father still.
ARTABANES.
Let me adjure you, by the sacred life
Of your Pharnaces; by your helpless child,
The beauteous pledge of your ill-fated loves;
Yourself; your faithful people; to restrain
These wild, impetuous sallies of your soul,
Nor draw destruction on yourself, on all.
THAMYRIS.
I will command the feelings of my heart;
Will meet him with the uncomplaining eye,
The silent tear of suffering resignation.
ARTABANES.
My gracious queen! fierce Athridates comes.
THAMYRIS.
Retire, and leave us free.
| The Siege of Sinope | |