 | Belisarius |  |
SCENE III.
The House of Belisarius.Marcella, Antonina.
Mar.
My Phorbas safe; of his dear life assured;
I rise superior to each human ill.
And all my soul with fortitude inspired,
Contemns malicious fate; and prompts to deeds
Transcending my weak sex. Despair is pass'd.
I feel new hopes, and every thought looks forward
To brighter days, to more auspicious times.
Ant.
Did I not tell thee thousands would arise,
Armies conspire, to aid in his distress
Thy godlike father? and avenge injustice?
Enter Decius.
Mar.
Why enters Decius with unbidden step
These hallow'd walls?
290
No enemy I come,
Or secret spy. If heretofore I err'd,
If my rash tongue offended, let repentance
Atone the fault; and by my future deeds
Judge my sincere respect.
Mar.
Hath fear then seiz'd thee?
Art thou alarm'd? Doth Narbal's base heart tremble?
Is it to deprecate revenge thou comest?
No; let it take its course. The people's voice,
Like that of some divinity, calls loud
For punishment upon his head and thine.
Dec.
With temper hear me. Not impell'd by terror,
But to uplift the fallen, console affliction,
Am I by Narbal sent. Fenced round by arms,
And strongly guarded by imperial power,
What can the giddy multitude against us?
For thee Marcella, Narbal is alarm'd;
For thee he feels, and for thy widow'd state.
Guiltless of Phorbas' death, he only begs
To undeceive thee, and with friendly heart
Take thee to his protection,
Mar.
Undeceive me!
No; never will I meet his hateful presence.
Dec.
Then must I gently force thee to the palace.
Thee Antonina, he in kindness suffers
To visit Belisarius in his prison.
Go, with the tender Junius.—Let thy tongue
With soothing accents cheer the hero's soul;
291
So he exert his influence to disperse
The irritated multitude, and order
Nicanor and his veterans to retreat.
Ant.
Shall I destroy our only means of safety?
Mar.
Oh! never may thy tongue belie thy heart!
Or a breath issue from thy lips to check
The surging billows which shall overwhelm
Deceit and cruelty!—Lead to the palace,
Thou servile minister of him who sent thee.
I to this odious interview. While thee
(to Antonina.)
A sad, but not ungrateful task awaits.
Tell Belisarius that his daughter strives
To follow with unequal pace his footsteps.
Reason again may shrink beneath affliction;
But while my mind it's sacred dictates hears,
Misfortune's iron hand, howe'er oppressive,
Shall nought avail to turn it from it's course
Toward honour's dome, and the pure shrine of virtue.
[Exeunt.
| Belisarius | |