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.
