Jason :: :: University of Virginia Library

MELAMPUS.
Thy arm is wounded.

ORONTES.
I feel no pain. Most fortunate of men!
Thou from this ridge of Caucasus, around
The Caspian shore to laxartes' source,
Shalt be proclaim'd the happy, who hast sav'd
Their lord, Orontes.

MELAMPUS.
Is that distant water
The far-fam'd Caspian? This the hoary front
Of Caucasus? Art thou the region's lord?

ORONTES.
The king of kings, of origin divine,
Who mean to raise thee nearer to myself.
Sev'n spacious cities, all with rich domains,
And the first rank among Orontes' servants,
Shall soon exalt thee from thy humble state.

MELAMPUS.
Sev'n times sev'n cities, capitals of realms,
Could not repair my loss, nor ease my troubles.

MADAUCES.
Melampus!

ORONTES.
Dost thou talk or think of troubles?
None canst thou feel, protected by my favour.
To glad thee more, I want thy further aid,
And will employ thee in a dearer cause
Than life itself. But instantly reveal
Thy birth and appellation.

MELAMPUS.
Who I am,
Or whence deriv'd, avails not thee to know,
Me less to utter.

ORONTES.
I command thee, speak.
Whence and what art thou is my will to know.

MELAMPUS.
Mine to conceal.

ORONTES.
Ha! stranger.

MADAUCES.
Prince, forbear.
Solicitation, or command, is fruitless.

ORONTES.
He must be then some deity, resigning
His empyreal station to defend
My sacred head. None yet of mortal race
Hath disobey'd my pleasure, or endur'd
My wrinkling brow.

MELAMPUS.
No deity am I,
But one of earth's degen'rate sons like thee.

ORONTES.
Then dar'st thou dally with a king's impatience?

MELAMPUS.
Why rather dally with my own resentment,
Which should chastise ingratitude and pride?

ORONTES.
Am I Orontes? Do adoring vassals,
Do princes crowd to thrust their splendid heads
Beneath my feet? Where am I?

MELAMPUS.
In my power.

ORONTES.
Thou at my smile no transport didst betray,
Nor fear'st my frown.

MELAMPUS.
Thou look'st around in vain.
Thy base, adoring homagers are fled,
Fled from the danger which my arm withstood.
They left their idol to the lion's paw,
And now to me, the victor of that savage.
Were my just anger equal to thy pride—

ORONTES.
Thou wouldst not stain thy sword with kingly blood!

MELAMPUS.
What shall prevent me? Thy imperial title?
Thy arrogance hath cancell'd all respect.
Or shall thy pow'r? Where is it? Thy dependants
Have left thee helpless. To thy single might
Art thou contracted.

ORONTES
(aside).
Strange these sounds, yet true.

MELAMPUS.
Thou seem'st dismay'd.

ORONTES.
O stranger, I am mov'd,
But not with fear.

MELAMPUS.
Nor hast thou cause. The sallies
Of mere presumption never shall provoke me
To an inhuman or ungraceful action.
Thou art secure, Orontes; not that streams
Of royal tincture have enrich'd thy veins,
But from the gen'rous warrant of thy aspect.
Sure thou hast seeds within, though yet unfruitful,
Through impious flatt'ry of barbarian slaves;
At least my soul is earnest to discover
A trace of merit in the man I sav'd;
If thou hast virtues sleeping in thy bosom,
Attend with patience while I rouse their languor.

ORONTES.
In admiration I suspend my voice.

MELAMPUS.
To be a man, and know himself, is all
Man can attain. Whoe'er aspires to more,
Is less than brute. The lion, whom I slew,
Had he address'd me with his smarting paw,
And I extracted thence an irksome thorn,
Would with mute thanks have lick'd my helpful hand.
Thou, just redeem'd from death's voracious maw,
Didst with rude insult thy protector greet.
Doth not that blood which trickles down thy arm
Denote thee frail? This day's mischance proclaim
Thee and thy pow'r obnoxious to disasters,
And fortune's sport? Did sickness never waste
Thy pamper'd flesh, nor anguish gnaw thy heart?

MELAMPUS.
Cease to fear. I am thy friend.

ORONTES.
I own it.
But thy inquiry, if devouring anguish
Hath never gnaw'd my bosom, doth a note
Of discord strike which quite untunes my soul.
I am, indeed, obnoxious to disasters,
And fortune's sport.

MADAUCES.
Direct us where to lead thee,
And wind thy mantle round that wounded arm.

ORONTES.
If my whole frame were overspread with wounds,
They would be gentle to the rankling shaft,
Long fix'd, and deep, within my tortur'd heart.
Ye ramparts inaccessible, which hold
My hopes and joys, ah! never, never more
Through your enchanted portals must I pass
To view the queen of beauty! O, my friend,
To me the pomp of royalty is tedious,
The high repast is tasteless, gems are faint,
Perfumes disgustful, softest music harsh.
Oft, as our god ascends his eastern hill,
And dips in darkness his returning wheels,
I sit and weep at these forbidden gates.

MELAMPUS.
Who is this fair one?

ORONTES.
Fair! That ruling pow'r,
Whose beams yet tinge the shadowy plumes of ev'ning,

In his meridian splendour is less bright,
The snowy lustre of the moon less fair.

MELAMPUS.
Now, if by wily stratagem or force
I may assist thee—

ORONTES.
Wilt thou, gallant stranger?

MELAMPUS.
I will.

ORONTES.
Then swear. Forgive, forgive my weakness.
How can I doubt thee?

MELAMPUS.
On my sword I swear,
By ev'ry tie of honour, and of truth—

ORONTES.
That thou this high achievement wilt attempt;
That should this magic threshold yield thee passage,
Thou wilt apply to yon disdaining fair
That eloquence, which charms my pride away,
And win her pity to a dying monarch,
Who throws his youth and empire at her feet.

MELAMPUS.
I call on Themis to record my oath.

ORONTES.
What god is Themis?

MELAMPUS.
Goddess she of justice,
In her pure service hath enroll'd my sword,

And on my shield her image is impress'd.
Oh! that my heart had borne it!

[Aside.
MADAUCES.
Hear the king.

ORONTES.
Wait till the morn. A rural palace near
Shall give thee welcome to a feastful board,
To strains concordant with th' enliv'ning dance,
And to refreshment on a couch of odours.

MELAMPUS.
Thrice hath the sun perform'd his annual course,
Since I was seated at a social feast,
Since grief-assuaging music lull'd my ear,
And in my view the cheerful dance inspir'd;
Since I have stretch'd me on no softer couch
Than earth's cold surface, or th' unquiet deck,
With night's unfriendly moisture to contend,
With clam'rous tempests, and the beating rain.
No other pillow, than some pointed crag
Beside that water's melancholy fall,
To broken slumber shall invite my head.

ORONTES.
Unequall'd hardships! Liv'st thou to relate them!
Wilt thou be still offended, if a prince
Benignly try to fathom thy distress,
And raise thy head to comfort?

MELAMPUS.
Rest content.
My sword is thine, my sorrow mine alone.

ORONTES.
Enough.

MADAUCES.
Enough indeed of time is wasted.
Prince, thou dost want some salutary hand.
We will transport thee gently—

MELAMPUS
to ORONTES.
Ha! thou droop'st.
Thy lips are pale.

ORONTES.
Support me. Must I die!
Then near thee, cruel portal, shall I find
For the first time repose.

[Sinks down.
MELAMPUS.
His eyes are clos'd.
No help is near. He dies—and I the cause.