University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The Outside of the Tent of Athridates; the Walls of Sinope in view on the Left; at a Distance, on the Right, the Camp, and a distant View of the Euxine Sea.
ARTABANES and ARTAXIAS.
ARTABANES.
Blest be the favouring gods! may whitest omens
Still mark the chosen day which saw me come
From yon proud walls, th' ambassador of peace,
To royal Athridates' warlike camp!

ARTAXIAS.
The hostile monarchs, wearied with contention,
Now sheathe the slaughtering sword. Great Athridates
Yields to the voice of nature, nor rejects
A daughter's suit.

ARTABANES.
The royal Thamyris,
Our beauteous queen, whose all-transcendent charms,
With Hymen's torch enkindled that of discord,
(The fatal cause of enmity) becomes
The happy pledge of peace. No more the peasant
Sees the swift blaze devour the season's hope;
Again he breaks the soil: yon ravag'd fields,
Late drench'd in blood, red with destructive slaughter,
Again receive, well-pleas'd, the golden grain,
And promise future years of smiling plenty.

ARTAXIAS.
Fell discord is no more: our conquering army,
Which pour'd the tide of victory along,
And like a torrent overflowed your plains,
Now ebbs, retiring, at our monarch's voice,
Who, when his vows with those of brave Pharnaces,
Before the awful shrine of righteous Themis
Are interchang'd, his martial thunder points
At other foes, and gives to Pontus peace.

ARTABANES.
For ever sheath'd be the remorseless sword!
True happiness is of domestic growth,
It blossoms in the shade.—The meanest hind,
Who in the flowery lap of calm content
Rests from his healthful toil, and meets at eve
The faithful partner of his homely dwelling,
Is happier than the laurel'd conqueror,
Deaf to his people's welfare, who rejects
The sacred gifts of peace.

ARTAXIAS.
Those sacred gifts
No longer are withholden: raging Mars,
With cypress wreath'd, and garments dropping blood,
Unwilling quits the field.

ARTABANES.
A subject born,
Respect should seal my lips; yet sure, Artaxias,
Too long our land has felt your monarch's rage;
Seven rolling years have seen unhappy Pontus
A prey to savage war.

ARTAXIAS.
Great was the crime
His fury thus pursu'd: bright Thamyris,
His last remaining hope, his kingdom's heir,
Forc'd from his palace at the midnight hour,
When, all-secure, beneath the olive's shade
His eyes were seal'd in sleep. Nor could he deem
His sceptred guest, a lawless ravisher.

ARTABANES.
The crime of tenderness a parent's breast,
To kind impressions apt, may surely pardon;
Young, loving, and belov'd, Pharnaces came,
A king, a blooming conqueror, to your court;
The regal diadem adorn'd his brow,
Twin'd with the verdant laurel.—Thamyris
Had long been promis'd to his ardent vows—
By Athridates promis'd; and her heart,
Pleas'd with a father's sanction, own'd its lord;
Yet then, even at that moment, when Pharnaces,
His heart high-beating with a bridegroom's transport,
Approach'd the flaming altar, Athridates,
Seduc'd by Rome, and dazzled by her friendship,
Broke the strong fetters of long-plighted faith,
And tore her from his wishes:—stung to madness,
And too regardless of a father's right,
Impell'd by love, he bore the princess thence,
And plac'd her, half-reluctant, on his throne.

ARTAXIAS.
No more, my friend; behold the king approaches.

SCENE II.

ATHRIDATES, ARTABANES, ARTAXIAS, ORCHANES, and Guards.
ATHRIDATES.
Ambassador of Pontus, 'tis the hour
Prefix'd for thy return:—say to thy queen,
A father's love has melted into air
A monarch's just resentments.—I forgive,
And as my child will meet her. Her offences,
Since now repentant, from my memory fade,
Like the light cloud before the summer-breeze,

ARTABANES.
Auspicious sounds! From this distinguish'd æra
Pontus' and Cappadocia's warlike sons,
A band of brothers, bury all distinction.

ATHRIDATES.
The lassitude of age, and toils of war,
Demand a short repose; the coming night
I give to rest; but with the rising dawn,
In Themis' temple, I embrace a daughter,
Once dearer than the blood which warms my heart,
And sign a lasting league with brave Pharnaces.

ARTABANES.
May Jove and righteous Themis bless your union!

ATHRIDATES.
Thanks, generous chief; this further to thy queen:
The dear domestic bliss, so long suspended,
Of mild paternal love, awhile indulg'd
Beneath your monarch's hospitable roof,
And Athridates leads his warriors back,
To guard their native walls and houshold gods.

ARTABANES.
This hour, the fairest in the rolls of time,
Wipes from the trembling matron's eye the tear,
And spreads unnumber'd blessings thro' the land.

ATHRIDATES.
The stealing step of evening warns thee hence:
See to the west the radiant god of day,
On rapid wing, drives fast his fiery coursers!
Ere he ascend the azure vault of heaven
Expect me in Sinope.—Thou, Orchanes,
Safe to the eastern gate with speed conduct
The valiant Artabanes.—Chief farewel!

SCENE III.

ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS.
ARTAXIAS.
Behold yon liquid plain!—Its smooth expanse
Late vex'd with blackening storms, like a clear mirror
Reflects the setting sun, whose quivering beams
Play on the glassy surface! Happy emblem
Of this propitious day!

ATHRIDATES.
Calm is the sea,
The winds are hush'd, and every wave at peace;
'Tis in my bosom the big tempest rages.

ARTAXIAS.
My lord!—

ATHRIDATES.
Artaxias, to thy faithful breast
Thy master trusts his every care. The hour
Dear to my soul, and fondly sought, approaches.

ARTAXIAS.
To-morrow's dawn shall see your vows exchang'd
With Pontus' warlike monarch; shall behold
Your blended incense rise, in curling volumes,
A grateful offering to the powers divine.

ATHRIDATES.
Bellona, guardian goddess of my realm,
In fair Comana's lofty walls ador'd,
First claims my grateful vow. She nerv'd my arm;
And o'er the land, by fell dismay attended,
March'd by my side, array'd in all her terrors,
And shook her brandish'd spear: She gave me conquest,
The glorious meed of heroes.

ARTAXIAS.
The fierce hour
Of raging indignation is elaps'd,
Is past for ever.

ATHRIDATES.
Yes, 'tis past—for ever:
The fruitful olive now o'ertops the laurel.
Yet busy memory will not be restrain'd;
She will recall those times of wild contention,
When, driv'n by Mithridates from my throne,
With unrelenting, savage, fury driven!—
Yon vast expanse of waves, this globe of earth,
No longer found for thy insulted lord
A kind asylum from the victor's rage.—
Canst thou forget my son, in youth's first prime,
A beauteous branch, torn from the parent stem,
And falling, in gay vernal bloom, to earth?
Canst thou forget the sorrows which for him
Have harrow'd up this bosom?

ARTAXIAS.
By the chance
Of furious war he fell, with glory fell,
And stain'd his youthful sword with hostile blood.

ATHRIDATES.
I saw him fall; still rest the traces here:
I live,—and yet his spirit unappeas'd
Upbraids my lingering vengeance.

ARTAXIAS.
Why pursue
On Pontus' guiltless king a father's crimes?

ATHRIDATES.
Tho' years on years have roll'd, still, at the name
Of Mithridates, keen resentment points
The sleeping thunder; the stern furies rise
With ten-fold serpents crown'd.

ARTAXIAS.
Be all your wrongs,
My royal lord, forgot!—

ATHRIDATES.
Yet more, Pharnaces,
This friend, this new ally, did he not bear,
At dead of night, from these defenceless arms,
My child, my Thamyris; the only hope
Of my declining years; the only hope
His father's sword had left me?

ARTAXIAS.
On his throne
She more than shares his power, respected, lov'd—
The idol of his soul!

ATHRIDATES.
She was my pride,
My joy, my age's comfort, fair as nature
Fresh from the forming hands of mighty Jove:
Nor was her mind less perfect, fram'd, at once,
To give the hour of private life its grace,
Or share the toils of empire.—But no more!—
Let me not thus, with retrospective eye,
Recall the fatal past.

ARTAXIAS.
O Athridates!
Great Lord of nations, learn, at last, to vanquish
Thy own unconquer'd heart.

ATHRIDATES.
What wou'd thy zeal!—
Have I not pledg'd my faith?

ARTAXIAS.
The faith of kings
Should be irrevocable as the mandate
From Jove's imperial throne. 'Tis not an hour
Since to th' ambassador, in yonder tent,
Your royal hand was given in pledge of peace.

SCENE IV.

ATHRIDATES, ARTAXIAS, a MESSENGER.
MESSENGER.
Mighty king!
A moment since, the centinels descry'd
A warlike train, from yonder hills descending,
Who this way bend their march;—the tow'ring eagles
Declare them Roman.

ATHRIDATES.
Brave Domitius comes:
To treaties faithful, leads his dauntless warriors,
From Tyber's banks to join my conquering arms.

ARTAXIAS.
He comes to share the bounty of the gods;
Fair concord's heart-felt joys.

ATHRIDATES.
He comes to share
The joys of Athridates. Mark me well:
When in the east the ruddy streaks of light
First gild the gay horizon, let the troops,
Arrang'd, in burnish'd arms, attend my will.

SCENE V.

ATHRIDATES.
Yes, the grey dawn shall see me in Sinope;
Shall see my incense rise, but not to Themis.
Safe, (as they deem) depending on my faith,
Sinope's thoughtless warriors share the feast,
Begin the choral song, the graceful dance,
And drain the sprightly bowl. Still, blind to fate,
Let them enjoy the mirthful hour, and twine
The festal rose round their devoted brows,
Nor spy the adder lurking mid'st the leaves.