University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

On the left Hand, the Camp of Pharnaces in Prospect at the Entrance of a Grove; the Time near Midnight; the Moon risen; the Tents with Lights dispers'd amongst the Trees, the Royal Tent in the Front of the others: on the right Hand a Road over a Mountain, from whence Pharnaces descends with his Army.—Grand March.
PHARNACES, TIGRANES, and Soldiers.
TIGRANES.
My gracious lord, may every hour, like this,
Bear conquest on its wing! o'er yonder hills
The Romans fly;—those tyrants of mankind,
Whose rage destructive lights the flaming brand,
And scatters terror thro' the mild abodes,
Where concord wont to dwell.

PHARNACES.
My gallant friend,
Armenia's monarch, brave Cyaxares,
Pursues the drooping eagles. Yet, Tigranes,
'Till fair Sinope's walls receive their lord;
'Till, free once more, amid their flowery vales
My subjects sheathe the sword, and taste the meed
Of well-fought fields in the soft arms of peace,
'Till my lov'd queen, my son, in my embrace,
Forget the danger past, I have not conquer'd:
My toils are but begun—stern Athridates
E'en in my palace reigns.

TIGRANES.
Shall the fell tyrant,
Who mocks the plighted vow, still brave unheeded
The thunder of the gods?—What dire offence
Shall draw the vengeful bolt, if deeds like his
Insult th' immortal powers?

PHARNACES.
The gods, Tigranes,
Assist the brave; their power omnipotent
Is present with us—when they gracious give
A heart resolv'd to dare, an arm to strike.

TIGRANES
(looking out).
Behold, my lord, along the sacred grove
A light resplendent as the noon-tide ray
Shoots like a meteor to the western gate!
And now dissolves in air.

PHARNACES.
I hail the omen,
And feel, confess'd, the energy divine:
The gods themselves conduct me, nerve my arm,
Inspire my purpose, point my destin'd way,
And in my bosom fan the flame of hope.
Begin the march, and filing near the grove
Approach Sinope. Beauteous queen of night!
Chaste goddess of the groves! let thy fair beam
My path irradiate, and direct my steps,
'Till to their native walls, I lead triumphant
My faithful warriors,—let inspiring sounds
The soldier's bosom chear,—lead on, Tigranes.

[A grand march.

SCENE II.

An Apartment in the Palace.
ATHRIDATES, ORCHANES.
ATHRIDATES.
Are my commands obey'd?

ORCHANES.
My royal lord!
The reinforce ment to Domitius sent
Has reach'd his camp. Within the citadel,
Beneath Artaxias' care, I plac'd the queen;
The guards are doubled.

ATHRIDATES.
Her imperious spirit
Perhaps resisted!

ORCHANES.
When I led my files
To her apartment, with a haughty air,
She wav'd her hand, to warn them from her presence;
But when I told her by your dread command
They came, obedient, to conduct her thence;
She paus'd a moment—then majestic rose
And cry'd, “Obey your king.”

ATHRIDATES.
Say, didst thou mark
The meeting with her son?

ORCHANES.
The tender scene
Unmann'd my soldier's heart; she spoke not, wept not;
A deadly pale o'erspread her fading cheek;
Her panting bosom heav'd; beat quick, and short:
She snatch'd him to her breast, gaz'd wildly on him,
Breath'd a convulsive sigh, then, void of sense,
Sunk motionless to earth.

ATHRIDATES.
Behold Artaxias!

SCENE III.

ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS, ORCHANES.
ATHRIDATES.
What means?—Say wherefore?

ARTAXIAS.
Royal Athridates!
Blame not your faithful servant; but the queen—

ATHRIDATES.
What of the queen? Why hast thou left!—beware,
Thy life shall answer—

ARTAXIAS.
By an armed band
Forc'd from the citadel—

ATHRIDATES.
Thou hast not sure,
Confederate with her—

ARTAXIAS.
In your royal daughter
Our warriors saw their princess, and rever'd
The blood of Cappadocia's honor'd kings.
With all th' impassion'd eloquence of nature,
The strong emotion of a mother's love,
She spoke her griefs; they heard with mute attention,
And stood like statues, whilst with sudden step
She gain'd the portal; her maternal hand
Her infant son conducted. Teramenes,
The leader of her guards, by you entrusted,
Gain'd by her tears, and faithless to his charge,
The massy gates unbarr'd. The moment seizing,
With force to ours superior, Artabanes,
Who waited near, rush'd in, and bore them off
Towards Themis' temple.

ATHRIDATES.
Let us swift pursue.
Orchanes, thou art faithful; by each God
Potent in war I swear, their blood shall flow
On fierce Bellona's altar, till the manes
Of my lov'd son shall cease to call for vengeance.
A chosen band attend me to the temple.

SCENE IV.

The Portico of the Temple of Themis, the Gates open; at a little distance within, an Altar; Thamyris and Eumenes kneeling before it, with Branches of Olive in their Hands.
THAMYRIS, EUMENES, ORONTES, two other Priests attending.
Orontes
comes down the Stage.
What daughter of affliction, at this hour
Of solemn midnight, with dejected mien,
With suppliant wreaths, and hands to heav'n uprais'd,
Seeks the protection of all-righteous Themis?

THAMYRIS.
Thy queen.

ORONTES.
Immortal powers! Do I behold
My sovereign here, a suppliant in the fane,
Her piety to heaven first taught to rise!
And seeking that protection, which so late
Among the sceptred rulers of the earth
'Twas hers to grant!

THAMYRIS.
O, by this holy fane,
This altar, where my soul submissive bends,
And by the sacred majesty of heaven,
I here adjure thee, from the savage grasp
Of merciless oppression save my child!

ORONTES.
Thy virtues to the gods have made thee dear;
Speak thy request, and find a full compliance.

THAMYRIS.
Blame not these tears, they flow not for myself;
I have a nearer care, which rends my soul,
And gives distress its poignancy; O save
This helpless, uncomplaining innocence
From ills he knows not!

ORONTES.
Thou illustrious mourner!
Chace every anxious fear, and with thy son
Safe at the altar rest.

THAMYRIS.
Thou wilt forgive
A trembling mother's weakness!—not, Orontes,
Not that my doubting heart—I know not what
My woman's fears would say—But wilt thou lead him?
Wilt thou within the temple's last recess
Hide him from treason? murder? Athridates?

ORONTES.
Injurious to the gracious gods, O queen,
Thy causeless terrors rise; from this retreat,
These hallow'd walls, oppression, aw'd, recoils,
Nor dares prophane th' asylum of the wretched.
Yet heav'n allows thy prayer; the faults which spring
From nature's fond excess, the powers divine
With mild indulgence view. Thyself conduct,
And place him by the goddess' awful statue.
Arsames, wait the queen.

THAMYRIS.
Thus let me thank thee;
A few short moments must decide our fate:
My lord, if spar'd by the wild rage of war,
Approaches swift to save. If he is fallen,
This child is Pontus' last remaining hope:
O! guard the precious pledge! my life is nothing.

ORONTES.
What hasty steps!
(advances to the front of the portico)
The hostile bands draw near:
Fierce Athridates comes. Retire, O queen!
With calm submission wait the will divine.

THAMYRIS.
May pitying heaven to this devoted breast
Direct his erring sword, and save Eumenes!

SCENE V.

ATHRIDATES, ORONTES, ORCHANES.
ATHRIDATES.
Thou blind to fate, who, fearless of my wrath,
Hast dar'd protect my victims! hence, nor brave
An injur'd monarch's fury; this right arm,
Unless thou giv'st them instant to my sword,
(Unaw'd by superstition's gloomy terrors)
Shall seize, and drag them to the death which waits them.

ORONTES.
Stop, Athridates, nor with impious step
Prophane this holy place.—I know thy rights,
The reverence due to thrones; nor thou forget
The power which plac'd the sceptre in thy hand,
And can resume the gift. Unaided, weak,
No conquering bands protect us; but the gods
War on our side; th' imperial Lord of Heaven
Is our support, this temple our defence;
And if thy rage with lawless force invades
This sacred fane, the blest abode of peace,
'Tis o'er my bleeding corse thou must approach
The violated altars.

ATHRIDATES.
Dost thou think
With shadowy fears to shake a soul resolv'd?
Can thy enervate arm, thy feeble altars,
Save from their fate the captives of my sword?
Retire, nor bar my way, or see, involv'd
In rising flames, and trembling to its base,
Thy boasted temple fall.

ORONTES.
Away, blasphemer!—
But heaven, indignant, wills thee to compleat
The sum of thy offences. With compassion,
Elate I see thee, vain of transient power
Nor once revolving the uncertain state
Of wretched man, by flattering hope betray'd.
This hour is thine, the next is hid in clouds.

ATHRIDATES.
This hour shall then revenge me; swift advance,
And aid your master's justice.

SCENE VI.

ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS, ORONTES.
ARTAXIAS.
Royal sir,
Lose not a moment—on a slender thread
Your very being hangs. The troops of Pontus
(Pharnaces at their head) are in the city:
I saw them from the citadel descending,
And flew to save your sacred life.

ATHRIDATES.
Confusion!
By heaven 'tis false—the phantom of thy fear!

ARTAXIAS.
Believe your faithful servant. Artabanes
Conducts the king this way; o'er all the city
Tumultuous shouts of transport rend the air;
The maddening people arm; and even your troops,
The Cappadocians, murmur, and arraign
Your purpos'd vengeance.

ATHRIDATES.
Summon to our aid
The Roman veterans.

ARTAXIAS.
From th' exulting victors
This more I learn'd—the Roman legions, vanquish'd,
Already pass the mountains.

ATHRIDATES.
Curses blast them!
Wither their coward nerves, and give them up
To galling chains; a prey ev'n to Pharnaces!

[Clashing of swords—A shout.]
ARTAXIAS.
He comes; and now too late—

PHARNACES
(behind).
Away, Tigranes,
First stop the foaming torrent in its course.
Where is this tyrant who defies the Gods?
This monarch, fam'd for violated vows?
This father, thirsting for his children's blood?

SCENE VII.

ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS, PHARNACES, ARTABANES, TIGRANES, and Soldiers.
ATHRIDATES.
Behold him here, and tremble at his vengeance!

PHARNACES.
The righteous gods have given him to my sword.
Die, monster, die! and let thy thirst of blood
In thy own blood be sated.

SCENE VIII.

THAMYRIS, PHARNACES, ATHRIDATES, ARTABANES, TIGRANES, ORCHANES, and Soldiers.
THAMYRIS.
(Rushing from the Temple, and catching Athridates in her arms.)
Stop, inhuman!
Or through this bosom—

ATHRIDATES.
Hence; thy woman's weakness
Blasts my unsullied fame.

PHARNACES.
Would'st thou defend him?—
This tyrant!—

THAMYRIS.
Is my father—

PHARNACES.
He seeks thy life—

THAMYRIS.
He gave it.—If thy wrongs
Demand a victim, strike—strike here, Pharnaces;
But spare his sacred life—

PHARNACES.
Thou hast prevaild:
Thy virtue has disarm'd, and giv'n me back
To honour's better purpose. To the brave
A conquer'd foe is sacred. Athridates,
Receive thy life, thy kingdom.

ATHRIDATES.
I disdain
A life thy gift; my firm unconquer'd soul
Rejects thy offer'd mercy. Athridates
Will, still a monarch, join his ancestors:
This blow, and all is well.

(Stabs himself.)
THAMYRIS.
O fatal rashness!—

PHARNACES.
Why, Athridates, hast thou robb'd my heart
Of that best joy, the transport of forgiving?

ATHRIDATES.
Too far, Pharnaces, has my rage pursued—
Too deep has vengeance drain'd the cup of death—
Come near, my daughter: take my last embrace.
Canst thou forgive thy wrongs? The mist of passion
Fades from my dying eyes, and sets thy goodness,
Thy filial piety, in dread array—
Ye Cappadocian warriors, see your queen!
Thy arm, Artaxias—instant lead me hence—
I would not with my last expiring groans
Prophane this holy temple.

THAMYRIS.
Powers of mercy!
Yet spare his days!

ATHRIDATES.
And dost thou weep for me?
Whose unrelenting hand—my breath grows short—
I can no more—I faint—a sudden darkness—
I die—my child—farewell—farewell for ever!

(Falls into the arms of Orchanes and Artaxias.)
THAMYRIS.
My breaking heart—a moment more—my father!
He dies—'tis past!—

(Artaxias and Orchanes bear off the body of Athridates.)

SCENE IX.

THAMYRIS, PHARNACES.
PHARNACES.
There fled th' indignant spirit:
A sad example of the ills which flow
From fell revenge, and fury unrestrain'd.
Turn from that sight of woe, and let thy heart
[to Thamyris]
With other feelings, with a mother's transport
Expand, and glow with gratitude to heaven
For thy Eumenes' life.

Whilst Pharnaces is speaking, Orontes leads Eumenes down the stage, and presents him to Pharnaces and Thamyris.

SCENE X.

THAMYRIS, PHARNACES, EUMENES, ORONTES.
THAMYRIS.
My child!—my child!

PHARNACES.
My boy!—my kingdom's hope!—Do I once more,
With all a parent's heartfelt tenderness,
A parent's joy, behold thee? To the power
Whose hand has sav'd us, let the victim bleed,
The pure libation flow, the fragrant incense
In spiry clouds ascend!

THAMYRIS.
Alas, my lord!
E'en 'midst the soft delight that fills my soul
For thine, and my Eumenes' dangers past,
My father's fate rends my divided heart,
Checks the fond rapture, prompts the plaintive sigh,
And calls, unbid, the tender filial tear.

ORONTES.
That tear, O queen! is graceful: but remember
Thy son, thy husband, subjects, bid thee chace
These unavailing sorrows; and, with heart
Resign'd and humble, bow to awful heaven
For safety, life, and empire.

PHARNACES.
Power Supreme!
Great universal Lord! from this fair hour
Let Cappadocia's sons, with Pontus' join'd,
Beneath a milder sway forget their toils!
Though long divided by the arts of Rome,
Whose wild ambition sets the world in arms,
The kindred nations in each other's blood
Their frantic swords imbrued. Do thou inspire
The gentler purpose! And, amid the joys
Of sacred peace, a firm, united band,
Be it their glory to obey the laws
Fram'd for the general good; and ours to find
The wreathe of conquest in our people's love.