University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

A Tower.
Enter GREEK OFFICER and Guard.
OFFICER.
Guard well your prisoner: 'tis the king's command
He stirs not from this tow'r. See, he approaches.
This way with me, and further I'll inform thee.

Enter POLYDORE and a PÆONIAN.
POLYDORE.
'Tis a short race, my friend, but do not grieve.
Fair fame runs with me to the mortal goal.
And by yon golden god, 'tis far more noble
To blaze the meteor of an hour, and vanish,
Than shine whole ages an inglorious star
On the world's drowzy eye. And oh be witness,
Dæmons of death, who struck my shiver'd sword,
I yielded not ignobly. My firm arm
Fought to the last to save Polyxena,
And I have sav'd her.—Hah! what thing of blood
With clinking chains stalks towards us?

LYCUS, POLYDORE, PÆONIAN.
Lycus prisoner?
Mangled and bleeding thus?

LYCUS.
'Tis my life's blood
Shed for Polyxena, but shed in vain.

POLYDORE.
They have not forc'd her back?—

LYCUS.
Thou noble youth,
Hear what I've life to utter.—Near the ships
A secret band of Greeks unwarily
Rush'd on us. Front oppos'd to front we stood:
Fierce Eurycles bore onwards: five bold soldiers
Sunk in the fury of his mortal sword:
Cover'd at length with wounds, he fell to earth;
When to the altar they bore off the Princess;
And ere this time the bloody deed is done.

POLYDORE.
Thy wounds demand relief.—Farewel, farewel.

[Exit Lycus.
PÆONIAN.
Oh prince—

POLYDORE.
Be gone.—
[Exit Pæonian.
Oh destiny, thy dealings
Urge me to rush into the house of death,
My last, best friend. Polyxena's free spirit
Stops and looks back on me with pitying eyes;
Points me to where unhappy souls find peace.
—Loosen from thy foundation, ponderous arch,
And crush the wretch who cannot find a sword
To end him.—Open earth, and bury me
Deep in thy monstrous womb.—And wilt thou not?
Then thus perforce against thy stony breast
I dash me.—

EUMELUS, POLYDORE.
EUMELUS.
Heav'ns guard my prince—

POLYDORE.
Eumelus!—Ah that look—
Whence com'st thou?

EUMELUS.
From the tomb,—Spare me the rest.

POLYDORE.
Nay speak. I guess thy errand.—I'm prepar'd.
I'll listen still as night—

EUMELUS.
The Greecian host,
Circling the tomb, in solemn silence stood.
Pyrrhus, high on the front, the royal victim
Plac'd with due reverence; a selected band
Of Grecian youth follow'd with pensive pace.
While with slow hand, crown'd to the brim, he pour'd
A golden goblet to his father's ghost.
Then waving thrice his arm, the priest proclaim'd
Silence.—A death-like silence still'd the shore.
When Pyrrhus thus. “Oh father most rever'd!
Receive this due libation to thy shade.
This pure immaculate stream of virgin's blood,
Rise, son of Peleus, to our vows propitious,
Rise and receive! thy son's, the army's offering.
Unmoor the fleet; and to our longing eyes
Restore our country?”—Every soldier echoed
“Restore our country.”—Sudden then his hand
Unsheath'd the fatal sword.

POLYDORE.
Oh barbarous villain!
But cou'd he? dar'd he? dar'd the murd'rer strike?
How look'd the guilty savage when he met
The eye of such celestial innocence?
Fell not the trembling faulchion? No, that hand
Which shed the life-blood of Polyxena,
Still reek'd with Priam's gore.—Where was thy sword?
What coward-palsey thy old arm unnerv'd?
I was not there. I cou'd not burst these bonds:
Cou'd not with these vile chains dash him to atoms.
Fate bound me fast; fate-fear'd I shou'd unfix
Its curst decree, and ransom innocent blood!

EUMELUS.
Let patience moderate thy rage. The princess
Died—

POLYDORE.
Died!—And dost thou talk of moderation?
Died!—And dost think this heart shall ever treat
With patience more?—I prithee draw thy sword,
That sword, old man, which spar'd th'accursed Pyrrhus,
And strike it here. That sword will give me patience.

EUMELUS.
I pity, not upbraid thee. Yet I hop'd,
When thou shou'dst hear with what a steddy eye,
What decent dignity she look'd on death,
Drest in the aweful pomp of sacrifice;
That the last acts which crown'd her close of life,
And drew a sigh from every hostile heart,
Might mitigate thy anguish.

POLYDORE.
My lov'd friend!
Nothing can mitigate, nothing can sharpen
The anguish of my mind: Yet I'll hear all:
That her last words may sink into my soul;
That her last look may languish in my eyes;
That inexpressive look, when fugitive life
Dropt its lost colours.—That I now might see her,
Wan as she is, and cold! Oh there's a tender,
A melancholy charm, which death's pale touch
Casts o'er the features of the face we love.
Give, give me all, each look, each word relate.

EUMELUS.
Pyrrhus unsheath'd the sword—Quick at the sight,
The youth approach'd.—She saw, and thus she spake.
Heroes of Greece! You who in ashes laid
My conquer'd country! Let no hand profane
Touch me. My heart unshrinking meets the blow!
Not like a slave.—Heroes of Greece forbid!
But like great Priam's daughter, oh permit me,
Free as my birth t'approach the gods below;
Not like a slave.—Heroes of Greece forbid!
A fav'ring murmur follow'd; and the youth
Drew back at Pyrrhus' nod.—Down from her shoulders
With rosy shame, she stript her virgin veil,
And bar'd her beauteous breast, that far surpast
Ev'n Dian's statue. Then upon one knee
These mournful words she spake; Lo, prince my bosom,
Deep in my heart the friendly faulchion fix—
One wretched boon I beg—My breathless corse
Unbought restore to my dear mother's arms.
Oh let her tears the precious purchase pay!
She said—Tears gush'd from every Grecian eye.
Ev'n Pyrrhus paus'd.—Irresolute, aghast,
He roll'd his eyes, and wildly struck the blow.
She fell; and falling, carefully compos'd
Her decent limbs.—

POLYDORE.
Yes, swell, swell on, my soul!
Lose not, my heart, a single agony!
I'm proud to be this wretch!

EUMELUS.
Instruct me Jove,
To calm his troubled mind.

POLYDORE.
I am most calm.
Draw forth thy sword, and let it search my breast,
And see how calm I am.

EUMELUS.
Distracting sight!
Is this the end of all my care? Is this
Thy close of life?—How did my old heart swell
With the proud hope that I had rear'd for Troy
Another Hector!

POLYDORE.
And by heav'n thou hast.
Soon shalt thou find thou hast. I'll prove myself
Another Hector on the lives of Greece;
Rush thro' their camp, and to each Trojan ghost
My sword shall sacrifice a hecatomb.
—I have no sword;—oh curse on these vile bonds,
They chain my soul. Some god, some god assist,
Breathe thro' my breast a more than mortal might,
New-nerve my arm, that with one glorious effort—

TALTHYBIUS, POLYDORE, EUMELUS.
TALTHYBIUS.
The king—

POLYDORE.
Heav'n's curses on him—

EUMELUS.
Dearest youth—

TALTHYBIUS.
Atrides thus by me—

POLYDORE.
Go tell Atrides—

EUMELUS.
For heav'n's sake, peace.—Herald, what wou'd Atrides

TALTHYBIUS.
Strait to Achilles' tomb his royal mandate
Summons Eriphilus.

POLYDORE.
I will die here!

TALTHYBIUS.
He may not doom thy death—

POLYDORE.
I will not go.

TALTHYBIUS.
Not go? Alas what can thy unarm'd valour
'Gainst yon approaching guard? Haste to the tomb,
Where he with Pyrrhus waits—

POLYDORE.
Is Pyrrhus there?

TALTHYBIUS.
left him there.

POLYDORE.
Lead on—Herald, I follow—

TALTHYBIUS.
I will but summon the Pæonian prisoners,
And instant wait thee here.

[Exit.
EUMELUS.
Merciless pow'rs!
What has he done that your black cloud of wrath
O'er-shadows every hope!

POLYDORE.
One glorious hope,
Bright as the mid-day sun, beams on my soul.
—Nearer, my friend!—Talthybius soon returns—
This moment's mine—I wou'd not ask in vain.
Thou hast a dagger—

EUMELUS.
Oh! upon my knees—
Dear youth—

POLYDORE.
By heav'n, I do not mean—

EUMELUS.
Shall I,
I, who from cruel Polymestor's sword
Snatch'd thy devoted life, ah, shall thy guardian
Give thee the murd'rous dagger!

POLYDORE.
Thou mistak'st me.
A nobler action—

EUMELUS.
Oh revere, revere
The good Pyrechmes! With a father's fondness
He waits thy blest return; and holds in life,
'Till Priam's godlike son shall close his eyes.
—Do not forsake thy mother's rev'rend age.
Helpless, and wretched, if her dearest son
Flies from her woes.—Ah! drive her not to madness.
Have pity on thy friend! for by yon heav'n,
I'll not survive thy death.

POLYDORE.
Hear my resolve,
And give the dagger.—For my life, let fate
Dispose it, as it may; yet for thy sake
I'll keep it to the last.—Th'infernal Pyrrhus
Murder'd my sire. The villian stab'd my sister.
Wilt thou with-hold the dagger from his heart?
Ev'n now her gentle spirit hovers o'er me;
Summons her tardy brother to swift vengeance!
She shall to Priam, in th'Elysian groves,
Present her Polydore who died t'avenge them.
—Give me the dagger—

EUMELUS.
Thou true son of Priam!
Thou gallant brother of the godlike Hector!
What shall I say?—Oh! rather bid me plunge it
In my own breast.—Unfortunate old man!
Nay look not on me thus.—Here, take the dagger,
A friend's last gift to his soul's better part.
Take it. I'll wait thee to Achilles' tomb.
If thou shou'dst fall; a thousand path-ways point
To death's dark cave: The readiest is for me.
—Oh heav'ns! the queen—

POLYDORE.
She never cou'd have come
At a worse hour.—Is here a heart to meet
A mother's transports?

EUMELUS.
I but now inform'd her
Thy life was safe; I told her too the princess
Had reach'd the ships. Oh undeceive her not.
I will retire.—

[Exit.
POLYDORE.
Well as I may, my friend,
I'll counterfeit a calm. Yet much I fear me,
A mother's fondness will pierce thro' the veil
That a faint watry smile throws o'er my grief.
—What inexpressive bliss lightens her looks;
I see the story of my birth pourtray'd
In her dear eyes.—Oh nature, how I feel,
Thro' ev'ry nerve, thy more than magic power.

HECUBA, POLYDORE, SIGEA, &c.
POLYDORE.
My soul springs from beneath it's pond'rous load,
And triumphs to behold her! Bless me, bless
Your son, your Polydore.

POLYDORE.
Art thou my Polydore?
Art thou indeed return'd to life and me?
—Then wherefore swims thy shape before my eyes?
Oh for ten thousand worlds, this shou'd not be
A dream, a false unreal form of air!
'Tis not a dream! 'tis no unreal form!
'Tis my own Polydore!—Yes, my own eyes,
Dim as they are, can trace those living lines
That mark thee Hector's brother!—My dear boy,
Thou dost not join my transports! in thine eye
I see the image of a gloomy grief
That lives within thy heart.

POLYDORE.
Can such a guest
Find entrance to a heart so full as mine?

HECUBA.
To mine it cannot. No, while thus I clasp thee,
Methinks each god leans forward from the sky
To hail my happiness! Pride of my soul!
How does the sight of thee raise to my mind
Past joys, o'erlaid with many a dismal woe!
—What pleasure for Polyxena, whose life
Thy valour has preserv'd!

POLYDORE.
A nobler champion
Her virtues merited. Yet what my sword
Cou'd do, it did, to save her precious life.

HECUBA.
Dear youth!—but is she safe beyond the reach
Of accident? Alas that fearful pause!
Is she not quite secure?

POLYDORE.
She's quite secure
From every mortal chance. No power on earth
Can harm her more.

HECUBA.
Ye bloody butchers! now,
Where's now your victim?—how I long to see them,
Robb'd of their prey, with sullen indignation,
Gaze on the empty altar!

POLYDORE.
What a dagger
She strikes into my soul!

HECUBA.
Thou turn'st away.
—Now heaven protect my son!—Eumelus told me
Thy life was safe.

POLYDORE.
It is, and that it is,
For thy dear sake I'm thankful.

HECUBA.
With what transport
Shall we run o'er these scenes, when dark bleak winter
Shuts out society! How shall thy sister
Hang on thy bosom, and with fondness call thee
Her second sire, who gave her a new life!

POLYDORE.
Oh wou'd to heaven I cou'd—

HECUBA.
Why, hast thou not?

POLYDORE.
Who—

HECUBA.
Thou.—

POLYDORE.
Done what?—

HECUBA.
Preserv'd her life—

POLYDORE.
Hark!—heard you
That noise?—

HECUBA.
Thy look appalls me!

POLYDORE.
'Twas a groan;
The hollow groan of death!

HECUBA.
Thou cou'dst not hear,
So distant from the tomb, the victim's groans.

POLYDORE.
The victim's groans!—

HECUBA.
Ah! do not speak thy words
So terribly.—Alas the horrid thought
Of thy dear sister's danger has imprest
Thy mind so strong—

POLYDORE.
It has.—

HECUBA.
That it disturbs
The happiest hour that Hecuba can know.

POLYDORE.
But it no longer shall. For from this hour,
I do defy the darts of destiny.

HECUBA.
It has no darts for thee, my son, nor me,
Nor thy dear sister.—Wou'd to heav'n thou wert
Safe as she is, my child!

POLYDORE.
Oh mother, mother—

HECUBA.
For while those cruel chains oppress thy limbs,
I cannot think thee safe. Wou'd thou wert with her.

POLYDORE.
Burst tears, and ease my heart.—The pang is past,
And I'm myself again. Nay, look not pale;
My mother, my sole joy. All now is well.
One hour shall set us free. Let me now beg thee
To leave me; lest this visit shou'd awake
Suspicions here. These strange tempestuous times
Crave cautious apprehensions; make it dangerous
For poor humanity to feel those passions,
Which by the strict condition of our nature
We all are born to feel. The time will come,
When to these Greeks I shall proclaim myself
The prince of Troy, thy guardian, and thy son.

HECUBA.
Oh joy too great!—I'll go, my son; but first
To Jove's high throne address a mother's prayer.
Tremendous god; since destiny decrees
My son shall o'er these perils pass secure,
Lengthen my life! let not the fatal sheers
Cut my old thread in twain. For now my joys,
Too vast for words, fix heav'n within my heart;
While thus in ecstacies my fond arms clasp
My life, my soul, my new-born Polydore!

ULYSSES, EUMELUS, HECUBA, POLYDORE, Guards, &c.
ULYSSES.
Now Pallas aid thy votary. With success
Crown this deceit, and make my name immortal!
Nay start not. This behaviour but confirms
What needed not fresh proof. Rash queen, I've learn'd
Your trait'rous secret. With her dying voice
Polyxena proclaim'd it.

EUMELUS.
Dying voice!

POLYDORE.
Oh cast not on me that soul-piercing look.
Yes, she is dead.—The fatal truth had come
Less dreadful from my lips: but my fond heart
Forbad my tongue to speak it. Oh forgive
The only falsehood it can ever tell thee.

ULYSSES.
The only one indeed. For the next hour
Will lay thee dumb for ever. This disguise
Avails thee not. I know thee—

POLYDORE.
Then thou know'st
The man, whose look shou'd turn thee into stone.
Think on my wrongs, and tremble at my vengeance!

ULYSSES.
Thy vengeance, wretched boy! but that thou'rt plac'd
So far beneath our wrath—

POLYDORE.
Beneath thy wrath!
Heard you, dread Mars?—I plac'd beneath thy wrath!
Proud Greek! wert thou thrice king of Ithaca,
Me thou wert plac'd beneath.

ULYSSES.
Be this the proof—
Guards, bear him to the altar.—

POLYDORE.
Off, vile slaves—

HECUBA.
Oh spare him, spare him—

ULYSSES.
Heard you my command?

[To the Guard.
HECUBA.
On the bare earth, lo a queen kneels to thee;
Dead Priam's wretched queen—

ULYSSES.
Take hence the traitor—

HECUBA.
Hast thou no drop of pity in thy heart
For a poor mother?—Give me back my daughter.—
Thou wilt not—canst not.—Give me then my son—

EUMELUS.
All's lost for ever!

HECUBA.
Look upon me.—Tremble
At my despair: my agonizing soul
Stands on distraction's brink!—while sense remains
Oh spare him, spare my son.

ULYSSES.
Thy son?—

EUMELUS.
Yes, king,
But for the sacrifice, Eriphilus
Polyxena had wedded. Thus, Ulysses,
He wou'd have been her son.

POLYDORE.
I am her son!
And my soul triumphs in the thought!—No more—
All falsehood is beneath the prince of Troy!
Yes, Polydore disdains it.—

ULYSSES.
Polydore!—
—By Pallas, 'tis a stroke beyond my hope!
Thus I arrest thee—

POLYDORE.
Off old man—

ULYSSES.
Nay then,
Die.

POLYDORE.
No, false villain.—First die thou—

[Offers to stab Ulysses.
ULYSSES.
—Bear down his weapon. Seize him—

POLYDORE.
How beset?
Then farewel life—
[Stabs himself.
Oh faithful dagger!
'Tis well, I'm free again. The son of Priam
Falls as he ought to fall.

ULYSSES.
Sage Pallas, thanks!
Here end the fears of Greece. I'll to Atrides
With this important news.

[Exit.
HECUBA.
'Tis done, 'tis done!—

[She faints.
POLYDORE.
Heart-breaking sight! she dies. My mother dies!
All lend your aid; for I have none to lend!
She breathes again—my life flows fast away—
Raise me.—Heav'n has decreed thy son must fall.
Oh then forgive me, if my hasty hand
Has executed the stern will of fate!
Cou'd I have liv'd—cou'd I have given thee freedom!
—I was not born to bless thee—

EUMELUS.
Help, support him.
See, see the queen. Not one tear—not one word—
My hard heart bears it!

POLYDORE.
The same day that gives
Robs me of my dear mother. Rigid fate
Permits me but to see thee, and to die.
I ask'd not a long life—but one hour more—
It wou'd not be.—Now Pyrrhus lives, he triumphs!
—The gods are terrible! If they have mercy—
If they have justice—thou wilt live—wilt see
Revenge—revenge.

[Dies.
HECUBA.
He's dead. I know he's dead.
[After a silence.
I know that ghastly paleness is proud Death's
Triumphant robe!—Those lips shall breathe no more!
—But tears are bootless now.—Come, virgins, come,
We'll bear him to the Greeks. The star of Troy
Shou'd, as it falls, leave its last lustre there.
—Come virgins, come,—nay bring Polyxena,
Her corse upon my left; his on my right;
Like a fond mother I will go to Death.
He'll come to meet me from the Grecian camp,
And gently lay me 'twixt my son and daughter;
My murder'd daughter, and my murder'd son!
—But soft—revenge,—revenge!—Oh his sweet soul
Went with that word.—Shall I live to revenge?
My spirits catch th'alarm.—Come, follow, follow:
Let's do the noble deed! Come on, my maidens,
My virtuous maidens, blith in beauty's bloom:
Shall we not love this gallant lord of Troy?
Not pluck green myrtles from Elysian groves,
And wreath his warrior-brow? What, shall we steal
On my old Priam, sporting with his troop
Of demigods? My boys, my own bold boys!
—Who wou'd not be a mother?—glorious hour!—

[She runs off.
EUMELUS.
Oh melancholy sight!—That wretched man,
Who to this world's vain pomp devotes his soul,
Here let him come—gaze on these dread remains,
This monument of ruin'd royalty!

[Exeunt.