University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

The Trumpets sound.
Enter Titus, Cornelia and Æmilius.
Titus.
For me the trumpet sounds.

Cornelia.
O dreadful sound!

Titus.
The hour is come.

Cornelia.
Alas! not yet, my son!
To the last moment stay. So Varus counsell'd.

Titus.
The herald's at the gate. I must not stay,
Nor linger, like a criminal opprest
With shameful fears, Farewell, my sire, farewell!

Cornelia.
Thou goest to die, and say'st thou but farewell?
It were too little, if from Rome thou went'st
A sportful journey to the Baian shore.
But thou art going never to return,
To the dark region.

Titus.
Where all men have gone:
Where all must go; but glorious is the path
Thy offspring tread. An honourable death
Is the sole gift which fate cannot resume.
Methinks it suits us not thus to discourse:
Combat thy grief, and make our parting noble.

Cornelia.
Nature forbids. I cannot conquer nature.
Speak not so firm, look not so unconcern'd:
Leave in thy mother's ear some tender words,
Fit for eternal memory.

Titus.
If thou lov'st,
O spare thy son, lest Maximin should think
He has subdued me. No. He shall not see
Upon my cheek the vestige of a tear.

Æmilius.
Thy spirit shall inspire thy father's soul,
Till to the shades he sinks, to meet thee there:
Then to the founders of immortal Rome,
I'll point my heroes.—To my Paulus this,
[Embraces.]
And now, farewell.

Cornelia.
Alas! thy sire despairs,
He quits thy hand; till now I ne'er despair'd.
The moment is arriv'd, the dreadful moment,
I durst not think of, and cannot endure.
O Titus! Titus! let me clasp thy neck.
My son! those eyes I never shall behold
In living lustre more.

Enter Lucius.
Lucius.
Strife and confusion
Reign in the tyrant's camp. Himself I saw
Leap from his high tribunal.

Æmilius.
Sound th'alarm.
This is the work of Varus.

Titus.
Consul, beware.
Hostility from thee is breach of faith,
Whilst I remain.

Æmilius.
Too true, my son! Begone,
And free thy father's sword.

Cornelia.
[Embraces him.]
He shall not go.
One instant saves him, keeps him from the storm.
My arms have strength enough to hold my son,
My only left, for now his brother dies.

Titus.
Nothing shall hold me. I have deeply sworn,
And left my brother pledge of my return;
Left him, to bear alone the tyrant's rage,
To die by torture, if I break my faith.
Thus would'st thou buy my life! Unhand me streight,
Or I must tear myself.

Æmilius.
Thy frenzy, woman,
Cuts off our last resource, adds shame to ruin;
I will not, cannot succour noble Varus,
And much wrong'd Paulus, till thou sett'st him free.
The clamour ceases, Oh! what hast thou done?

Cornelia.
There, let him go, and perish with his brother.
Forgive this action; for excess of anguish
Deprives Cornelia of her reason's aid.
Now comes the raven that still bodes my woes.

Enter Herald and Dumnorix.
Dumnorix.
Captive, the time's expir'd.

Titus.
Soldier, 'tis well.
Turn to the gate thy steps, I follow thee.

Dumnorix.
Thou art the first that e'er employ'd deceit
Against himself; thy artifice prevails.
[To Æmilius.]
Roman! once more, tho' not from love, I speak;
Yield thee, for now thou hast no hope in Varus.

Æmilius.
Who told thee, that my resolution stood
On such a hope? What hath befallen Varus?

Dumnorix.
His treason is detected; he himself
Seiz'd, and condemn'd with thy rash sons to die.

Cornelia.
Eternal gods!—How did the legions brook
Their valiant leader's fate?

Dumnorix.
Her tongue betrays
Your secret expectation of revolt,
Where all is calm submission. Varus came
From hence, entrusted with your last resolve,
And, like an orator, addrest himself
To the tribunal, with a voice so rais'd,
That every soldier in the circle heard;
And as he told a tale to move their pity,
A sudden murmur rose. The emperor
Leapt from his throne, and call'd aloud to seize
The artful traytor. Soon his guards obey'd.

Æmilius.
Varus, the noble Varus, too must die.
But there are gods above! Vengeance is theirs,
The tyrant yet shall feel.

Cornelia.
Will vengeance raise
My children from the tomb?

Dumnorix.
Thou question'st well.
Matron, I pity thee. Canst thou not move
Thy husband's heart to spare his dying sons,
Nor win thy children to consent to live?

Cornelia.
Thou pity me! thou, whose inhuman soul
Devis'd the counsel that has caus'd my woe.
In vain dost thou attempt my troubled mind;
Had I a magick voice, to cleave the earth,
To pluck the sun and moon from their high sphere,
Unmov'd my husband and my sons would hear me.

Titus.
This ineffectual conference I'll end.
[To Dumnorix.]
'Tis not your office, sir! to counsel here,
Conduct me to the camp.

Dumnorix.
I will, be sure.
The death that thou hast courted, now abides thee:
Come, try the rough embrace.

Titus.
Lead on, Ligurian!
I answer to thy lord.

[Going.]
Cornelia.
Titus, my son!
Break, break my heart, for I can bear no more.

[swoons.]
Titus.
She faints, support her; now let me escape
From her affliction: think of Rome, my father!

[Exit.
[Cornelia is carried off.]
Manet Æmilius.
Æmilius.
Of Rome! aye, and of thee, of thee, my son,
And of thy brother. O unequall'd pair,
Your deeds, your destiny have rais'd your sire
Above the pitch of man. My heart is steel,
I weep not, nor complain. Relentless fiend,
Inhuman Maximin! for thee I live;
To bury in thy hated breast my sword,
Then die upon the blow.

Enter Lucius.
Lucius.
Thy faithful slave,
Uncall'd, intrudes upon his master's woe.
Resign not to despair thy noble mind,
Still there is hope.

Æmilius.
Affectionate old man!
Thou speak'st thy earnest wish, but my frail hopes
Were wreck'd with Varus.

Lucius.
Oft when wisdom fails,
Chance interposes, and atchieves the deed.
The British legions, wheeling from their host,
An angry parley with the tyrant hold,
And every rank re-echoes Varus' name.

Æmilius.
Immortal gods! Would I were at their head
A single spark may kindle up the flame.

Lucius.
My son, devoted to his master's fate,
Arm'd like a soldier of the tyrant's guard,
Mix'd with the herald's train.

Æmilius.
O generous youth!
Perhaps—but I have nourish'd hope too much.
He who divests him of that constancy
Which stands in expectation of the worst,
Encounters fortune with a naked breast.
I will do so no more. Now I go forth
Less credulous of what my soul desires,
But not remiss to seize on swift occasion,
And urge it to the utmost. Lucius, stay
And tell Cornelia—She has no support,
No medicine, but hope—I'll to the gate.
[Exit Æmilius.

Manet Lucius.
Lucius.
O best of men, I know where thou wilt go,
The first alarm provokes thee to the field,
One fate abides the children, and their sire.
Tyrannic fortune! when thou raisest up
To envy'd eminence the sons of men,
Thou but prepar'st a triumph for thyself,
A second triumph from their grievous fall.
Alike the column, and its ruins, mark
Thy sovereign sway. Now Lucius will obey
Thy orders, lord; then hasten to thy side;
The humble shrub shall with the cedar fall.

[Cornelia behind the Scene.
Cornelia.
Stand off.

Lucius.
Cornelia's voice; it sounds of woe.

[Enter Cornelia, followed by her woman.
Cornelia.
Stand off, I say, and let me find my husband.
Fit mate for me, for me, whose eyes have seen
The murder of my child.

Lucius.
Alas! alas!
The blow at last hath fall'n.

Cornelia.
His streaming blood
I saw.

Lucius.
His blood! whom has the tyrant spar'd!

Cornelia.
None, Lucius, none. I tarry'd not to see
A second stroke. Oh lead me to my husband.

Lucius.
He guards the gate.
[Sound of trumpets.
But hark his trumpets sound,
And sound a charge. Lady, my son went forth
To rouse the British legions to defend
Their leader, and thy sons. That sound proclaims
Tumult and war are up. My lord is there.

[Exit.
Manent Cornelia and attendants.
Cornelia.
The frantic father rushes to revenge
His sons, or throw the load of life away.
The desolate Cornelia she remains,
Her children murder'd, and her husband slain.
Enter Priest.
Where are thy omens, thy predictions too,
Thou priest of falshood!

Priest.
Know 'twas Varus fell,
And not thy son; his fall the signal prov'd
Of instant battle. With a whirlwind's rage
His legions rush'd upon the tyrant's guard;
Thy valiant sons are free, and lead the fight.

Cornelia.
Can this be truth? Shall I again believe,
And wake me from the dreadful dream of death
That had possest my soul?

Priest.
Matron! thy sons,
Thy husband too, victorious shall return.
I saw the bird of Jove his wings extend,
And hover o'er their battle; still he bears
Upon his pinions conquest.

Cornelia.
Say'st thou so!
Then heaven and thou forgive me. Jove supreme!
If I have ought offended, on my head,
On mine alone, let all thy wrath descend:
But spare my sons, and spare their blameless sire.

Enter Lucius.
Lucius.
Lady, rejoice, the tyrant is no more;
His barbarous cohorts yield.

Cornelia.
Blest be thy tongue.
But tell me of my sons, and of their father?

Lucius.
With voice and hand they urge the fainting foe,
Whose courage with their furious leader die.
Long, like a mound against the raging main,
Stood Maximin, the bulwark of his host;
His strength defied the fury of the storm;
Till to the van resistless Titus came.
By Titus' noble arm the giant fell,
And o'er him rush'd the war.

Cornelia.
Not without crush
And havock round him, such a ruin fell.
O minister of heaven! why dost thou bend
Thine eye on empty space, and gaze on air?
Can'st thou descry the future, or perceive
Events accomplish'd, tho' unknown?

Priest.
'Tis done.
The weary sisters rest. Cyllenius—comes,
Like a bright meteor streaming down the vault
Of azure heaven; in his right hand the rod,
And in his left, a laurel dropping blood,
Behold!

Enter Æmilius attended.
Cornelia.
My husband! oh! Where hast thou left
Thy sons?—

Æmilius.
They come victorious from the field.

Cornelia.
Why dost thou faintly speak such welcome tidings?
Thou art not wounded?

Æmilius.
No.

Cornelia.
From whence that cloud
Which overcasts thy brow? What damps thy joy?
Tell me, Æmilius! for I read thy soul,
There indivulg'd some cruel evil lies.

Æmilius.
Alas!

Cornelia.
Thou sigh'st not thus for Varus lost.
My sons, thou say'st, draw near; what is the grief
That wrings thy heart?

Æmilius.
O summon to thine aid
What constancy thou hast; soon shalt thou see
What I would not relate.

Cornelia.
Ha! am I mock'd
With false reports?
What spectacle is this!
[Enter Titus wounded, and supported by Paulus and soldiers.]
Are these the victors! oh my Titus dies!

Titus.
I stood the chance of war. Do not bewail
A fate so far above my highest hope
When last we parted. Men are born to die.

Cornelia.
But not like thee, in youth untimely slain.

Titus.
This active day has been an age of life.
Rome is deliver'd. Thou hast still a son.
Why mourns my brother o'er a soldier's fall?

Paulus.
I griev'd not, Titus! when our lot was equal.

Cornelia.
There will be wars again to snatch thee too.
Fear not too long a life: the useless live,
The vile, the odious; thy desert is death.

Titus.
My limbs grow weak, upon the earth I'll rest.
Have I redeem'd my rashness? O my father!

Æmilius.
Tis scarce a blemish to be brave to rashness.
To thee Rome owes her safety, her existence;
And with her chief deliverers ranks thy name.

Titus.
I feel my father's praise, now when the hand
Of death comes near my heart.

Cornelia.
I will be calm.
O let me not disturb his parting soul.
Sustain me, mighty gods!

Titus.
To sooth her grief,
My Paulus, be thy care. My last request,
My father, hear. O comfort that good man;
His son before me rushing, in his breast
Receiv'd a javelin, that was aim'd at mine.
Cherish his age.

[Dies.]
Æmilius.
Thou Roman, to the height
Of Roman virtue! to lament for thee,
With common wailings, were a feeble part;
And far beneath the spirit of thy fall;
Unworthy of thy father.

Paulus.
From this place
Let me persuade my mother to retire.

Cornelia.
I must behold the dead. Fear not excess,
Nor vehemence from me. Those features wear
A look of triumph. Yes, thy mother's heart,
Amidst her anguish, at that look revives.
The cruel fate thy generous mind embrac'd
Thou hast escap'd, to meet the death thou lov'd'st
In arms, victorious o'er thy prostrate foe.
Now to the place, where I will dwell with grief,
And ever listen to my heroe's praise.

[Exit Cornelia with Paulus.
Priest.
He fell not till each omen was accomplish'd,
Himself, his brother, and his country free.
No height, beyond the summit where he stood,
On earth remain'd: that he might ne'er descend,
The gods could only grant a death like his.

Æmilius.
Hence to the forum bear the noble corpse;
And let the musick of the legions sound
A warlike symphony, whose strains express
Our mingled state of triumph, and of sorrow.

[Exeunt omnes.