University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Forest. In the back ground a Camp, before the Walls of Sparta.
Enter Mezentius and Corex.
COREX.
The conflict of the elements is past,
The tempest which so lately seem'd to shake
The chrystal walls of heaven, is appeas'd,
And agitated nature sinks to rest.

MEZENTIUS.
Rather she bids the elements be still
That other conflicts may unfold their rage.
Her war is past;—and now the war of men,
The rush of armies, and the shouts of death,
Will shake this azure vault; where rolling thunders
Hurrying but now, the crooked lightnings on,
Hail'd with grand horrors the devoted night.

COREX.
No wonder that Olympus should take part,
When empires vibrate in the scales of fate.
Not more illustrious was the hour, in which
Enthroned Gods hung o'er the fate of Troy,
And granted to celestial Juno's hate,
A people's ruin.

MEZENTIUS.
The avengeful Gods
Look so on Sparta, and its hoary tyrant!
But where's Cleombrotus? The trumpets sound,
Yet sound to arms in vain! Is this the leader
Who from the fields of Thrace and proud Iberia,
Brought us to reap the richer spoils of Sparta?
Where is the courage which should lead us on,
And rouse the tardy valour of his soldiers?

COREX.
Suspect his courage! Oh his daring mind
Spurns at all dangers, and his well-earn'd fame
Repels each hov'ring doubt.—Pierce thou the wood
Where yonder cypress hides the dazzling moon;—
I'll this way bend my steps to seek the prince,
For 'tis within these glades he shuns the camp,
And to reflection gives his hours of glory.
(going).
[Trumpets sound.
He hears Bellona's voice; its powerful charm
Will break the spells of gloomy solitude,
And give us back the warrior and the hero!

[Exeunt opposite sides.
Enter Cleombrotus.
CLEOMBROTUS.
Resistless sounds! ye chace my lethargy,
And rouse the soldier in my languid heart—
I'll yield—I'll yield it to the glorious impulse!
O moon! whose silver beams shed their pale splendor
On those proud spires, adorning them for sacrifice—
Shine on! Ride cloudless thro' th'etherial plains,
That when gigantic war strides o'er yon battlements,
And prints in ev'ry street its sanguine steps,
Guided by thee, his iron arm may spare
All, who invoke its mercy! Thy chaste light
Shall lead the matron, and the trembling maid
Inviolate to safety.—Me it guides
To Chelonice; the fell tyrant's daughter,
Yet my lov'd wife.—Dian! avert from her,
And from my beauteous boy, each hov'ring ill,
That to this melting heart I yet may press them,
And charm their terrors with the voice of love!

Enter Mezentius.
MEZENTIUS.
At length then, prince! I've traced thy wand'ring steps.
Th'impatient soldiers seek thee thro' the camp;
E'en the hired mercenaries, now, boast ardors;
And thou, whose all depends on this grand moment,
Retir'st to shades, wrapt cooly in reflection.

CLEOMBROTUS.
Not cool, Mezentius, tho' alone, and thoughtful—
For oh! my throbbing breast is torn with feeling.
The mercenary's heart expands with joy
For the rude hour of plunder; mine, my soldier
Contracts with fear, lest that wish'd hour should grasp
In undistinguish'd ruin, her I love,
With him, who though her father, I must hate.

MEZENTIUS.
These are a lover's fears.

[Contemptuously.
CLEOMBROTUS.
They are a husband's!
When I consider—in the rage of battle
What various ruins stalk beneath its banners,
Not to be agoniz'd, is not to feel.
The engines which must level yonder towers
May, as they play, form Chelonice's grave!

MEZENTIUS.
She hath forsaken thee.—This wife so lov'd,
Hath left thy bosom for a tyrant father's,
Who seeks thy life, and robs thee of thy crown—
And if I woman know—

CLEOMBROTUS.
Thou know'st not her!
Her's is no common heart.—Melting with love,
Alive to nature's softest impulses,
Tend'rest of all the tender faithful sex,
Yet where her duty bids, she has a mind
Firm and unbending, as the laws of truth.

MEZENTIUS.
Erring report, hath spoke of her with honour.

CLEOMBROTUS.
With highest honour it shall speak yet err not.
When th'Ephori bestowed on me the crown,
Making me colleague with her faithless sire,
Thou'st heard how soon his lust of power impell'd him
To seek my ruin, and to reign alone.

MEZENTIUS.
His faction sunk, and you became triumphant!

CLEOMBROTUS.
'Twas then Leonidas, wrapt in despair,
Fled to Minerva's altar.—Chelonice
Followed him there, leaving a splendid throne
And all the joys that wait on royalty,
To weep, and watch upon the dewy pavement,
Where stretch'd, she found an abdicated father.

MEZENTIUS.
Let Sparta's daughters then be nam'd with rev'rence,
And proudly boast amongst the Grecian maids,
They breathe the air which nourish'd Chelonice!
Have you not since oft woo'd her to your arms?

CLEOMBROTUS.
Oh yes, and there to fold her, would be transport!
But in her heart the filial principle
So strongly burns, that easier 'twere to woo
The murm'ring ring-dove from her unfledg'd brood
Than her, from him, who gave the charmer life.
She thinks his safety, too, hangs on her presence—
Oh, can I blame the cruel, lovely duty,
Which thus, unwilling, holds her from my arms?

MEZENTIUS.
Fortune! benignant look upon this night,
And a few hours shall see thee king, and husband!

CLEOMBROTUS.
Dear! glorious titles! how my soul will grasp ye!

MEZENTIUS.
The soldiers all in arms, await the signal.

CLEOMBROTUS.
First, let the altar's blaze propitiate heaven.
Mars and Bellona, guide me in the battle!
Precede my chariot, nerve afresh my arm,
And give me ardors to command my fate!
The gen'rous transport labours in my breast,
And conquest beams already on my helmet.
See!—Vict'ry bends from yonder starry seat,
And waves her flag triumphant to the town—
Goddess! I come!

[Exit drawing his sword.
Scene changes to the Palace of Leonidas.
Enter Amphares and Nicrates, meeting.
NICRATES.
Oh my Amphares! what an hour for Sparta!

AMPHARES.
The hour indeed is busy, and important.
See how the streets are throng'd! Each house pours forth
Its fearful inmates; whilst the eager hum
Of the enquiring multitude, that breaks
Like distant surges on the invaded ear,
Tears the repose, of balmy night's still sabbath.

NICRATES.
How wide th'event from the unblest design!
When Agis, the first colleague of our prince,
Lost by ambitious arts his crown and life,
The Ephori adjudg'd his vacant throne
To Chelonice's Lord;—uniting thus
The father and the son, they hop'd to bind
The fate of Sparta, in the wreathes of peace.

AMPHARES.
Weak short-liv'd hope! for mutual jealousies
Soon sprung in either breast, which nurs'd by faction,
Grew strong, and shook th'unwieldy fabric down.
Whence are the king and princess?

NICRATES.
From the temple;
Where vows and tears, and immolated victims,
Yet strive to smooth the sullen brow of fate.

AMPHARES.
Stern Fate demands far other immolations.
Cleombrotus leads armies flesh'd and keen,
As morning hounds, when thro' the dew they course
The lightning footed stag! who can preserve ye?

NICRATES.
The king himself! let him invest Cleombrotus
With the disputed sceptre; with the crown
Sparta adjudg'd him, and his fathers wore.
Surely your eye, Amphares, speaks a language
Too gayly placed for so sad a moment.

AMPHARES.
Brother! my spirit was not made for peace.
The burnish'd raven loves not more the tempest
In which he sails up-borne by warring winds,
Than I, the tempest of contending states:
'Tis in such storms superior natures rise,
And find a station, niggard Fate denied them.

NICRATES.
Kindred, yet uncongenial, are our souls!
Hadst thou possess'd a mind less turbulent,
Cleombrotus upon a steady throne
Had now been fix'd; and Lacedemon's hopes
Nourish'd, and blooming, in the lap of peace.

AMPHARES.
Never; for spite of old Lycurgus' law,
Which doom'd us to be rul'd by double tyranny,
A biarchy beyond each mode of slav'ry,
Mad power e'er fram'd to gall a nation's neck,
Is that which least admits of peace, or rule.
'T was therefore I dethron'd Cleombrotus;
But with such secret and coercive skill,
That he believes me yet his friend.

NICRATES.
Leonidas
And he together reign'd, together sway'd
The Spartan sceptre; nor did hell-born discord
Disturb, thro' six autumnal suns, their peace.
Ten months Leonidas hath reign'd alone,
And all is anarchy, distress and war.

AMPHARES.
And all shall so remain, 'till I have work'd
Thro' all these tempests, for myself, a day
Glowing with brightness, and unceasing lustre.—
I would unfold my heart yet more, but see!
The king and beauteous Chelonice come.

Enter Leonidas and Chelonice, with Guards and Attendants.
LEONIDAS.
Let all the troops be gather'd on the ramparts—
The troops!
Let ev'ry man whose arm can wield a sabre,
Let beardless boys and indolent old age,
Rouse at the call!—Those leave their darling sports,
And these forget their aches;—let all unite
To crush the hopes and arms, of proud Cleombrotus.

CHELONICE.
Oh!—

LEONIDAS.
Why sigh'st thou, Chelonice?—Can thy heart,
Say, dares it feel one evanescent pang,
That a rebellious foe shall be opposed,
And perish?

CHELONICE.
That foe is Chelonice's husband.

LEONIDAS.
Grant that he is; is not his foe, thy father?
Oh speak! would'st have me be his slave or conqueror?
(pausing)
Unduteous silence! which too strongly speaks.
Thou would'st behold me dragg'd beneath this dome;
My aged limbs embrac'd by iron shackles,
My time-blanch'd head dash'd on the marble floor,
Because the perpetrator of those ills,
Is the lov'd husband, of my only child!

[sneeringly.
CHELONICE.
That he's the husband of thy only child,
Heaven, and thyself doth know.—But when that child
Forgets amidst her griefs that thou'rt her father;
When she forsakes thee in the hour of sorrow,
Or owns a duty to thy conqueror—
Then may the Gods be deaf to all her pray'rs,
And shame and infamy weigh down her name!

LEONIDAS.
Then, daughter, banish from your brow these clouds
Which boldly censure, whom thy speech yet spares.
Enter ATTALUS.
Hasty thy steps!—thy news?

ATTALUS.
One from the camp,
Seiz'd and impell'd by tortures, hath confest,
Cleombrotus, this night triumphant means
To fix his standards on thy palace gates.
His mercenary army mad for plunder,
And all the various rapines claim'd by victors,
Urge on our fate.—The miners now beneath us,
Form, for the quick, a wide capacious grave;
The batt'ring rams already rear their heads,
Threat'ning our walls, with sudden dissolution.

LEONIDAS.
Why then let ruin come!—'tis my election.
Near twenty years I've borne the Spartan sceptre;
And shall I, at his bidding, fling it from me
Like a light toy, of which possession cloys me?
No, I'll reign still—and still alone will reign,
Or give up life, and sovereignty together.

ATTALUS.
Unhappy Sparta! then thy fate is fix'd.
T'oppose is vain; let's stand aloof, and watch
The gath'ring cloud, which bursting will destroy us.

LEONIDAS.
How slave! what, murmur at my will! Dispute
His word, whose breath annihilates thy race!
What are ye all, but creatures of my breath?
I doom ye life—rejoice! I bid ye die—
Sink silent to your graves!
Now Chelonice,
Prepare thy mind for this night's great event!
For ere its circling minutes have been number'd,
Thou'lt in thy father's blood walk to his throne,
Or see thy husband welt'ring at my feet.
Thy heart must make a choice.—For one of us
Thy prayers must mount to heaven.—Tell me not which,
Lest this old heart's last pangs be render'd stronger;
Lest thy fierce husband's sword within my breast
Should bite more keen—knowing that there 'twas sped,
By a lov'd daughter's wishes!

[Exit, followed by all but Nicrates.
NICRATES.
(observing Chelonice.)
Fix'd and mute,
She gives to grief, a force, beyond the storm
Of common female woes.—Pardon me, Princess!
Oh break a silence, which too strongly speaks.
Flow, precious tears, and give her sorrows vent!

CHELONICE.
Tears, Nicrates! dost think such woes as mine,
Can melt in tears?—Bid lighter sorrows weep!
Mine shall be cloister'd in my sick'ning heart.

NICRATES.
All-judging Heaven! What then are power and beauty?
What, all the virtues which adorn the mind,
Since all united, can't ensure repose?

CHELONICE.
My soul hath fortitude, but oh, its griefs are keen!
How shall I shape its wishes? how my heart
Compel to prayer? when ev'ry hope it forms—
Such is my horrid fate! must be a crime
Either against my father, or my lord.

NICRATES.
Oh! that I'd words—

CHELONICE.
This is a night of deeds.
Such deeds!—And cannot I—oh cannot I,
Whom most those deeds concern, by one bold act
Turn from my fated race, the ills which threaten?
Hear me, Olympus!—Regal Juno, hear!
Inspire your suppliant—send a ray of light,
To guide me, in the darkness which surrounds me!

NICRATES.
The last sad ray, thy father hath extinguish'd.
Since you can't move his purpose, all is lost.
E'en whilst we speak, destruction hastens on;
This very hour, your husband leaves the camp.—

CHELONICE.
(eagerly.)
Enough! thou'st said it—Heaven speaks through thee.
My husband, and the camp!—yes, to the camp
I'll bend my lonely and advent'rous steps;
There, to his heart I'll plead my father's cause,
Wrest from his strong resentments all I ask,
And bring back strength to Sparta's tott'ring walls.

NICRATES.
Oh Princess! 'tis the sudden thought of frenzy.
The camp!—think on the dangers—

CHELONICE.
Oh! what are dangers, when such duties call?
The spirit of my ancestors is on me;
A sacred fervor seizes on my soul,
A fire unknown, glows in my trembling veins,
And chases from my heart, each female weakness.

NICRATES.
Heroism!
How false to say, thou'rt only made for man!

CHELONICE.
My father, and my country! Oh for these,
Fearless, I'd lead an army to a breach,
Scale hostile walls, and leap like him of Macedon
Amidst the foe; and whilst the whizzing deaths
Sigh'd round my head,
Scorn their mock terrors, and their painless wounds.

NICRATES.
Prudence avaunt!—Strong ardors in a cause
Righteous as this, seem the still voice of fate,
That thus in secret whispers, urges on
To perfect its decrees.

CHELONICE.
—Yet I'll not slight
The sage precautions prudence would suggest.
These royal weeds ill suit a wanderer's speed;—
The habit of a priestess shall conceal me.
Hallowed, beneath that sacred robe I pass,
Nor friend, nor foe, presume to know my errand;—
That errand sanctify, all ye, who rule
The actions of mankind! Howe'er design'd,
Howe'er begun our deeds, yours is the end.
We mark the goal, and blind begin our race,
In paths diverging from the happy place;
'Tis ye who guide us in the way unknown,
The motive ours, th'events are all your own!