University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The Palace Court.
Enter Paulus and Titus.
This is no time to strive for vain renown,
The fate of Rome, remember that, my brother!
Depends on the defence of Aquileia.

Titus.
Paulus, I know.

Paulus.
But thou dost not consider
Th'importance of this war. We fight not now,
As oft since Freedom fell our fathers fought,
When Latian chiefs contended who should reign,
With half the senate listed on each side;
The victor still was Roman, and rever'd
The gods and temples of immortal Rome.
But o'er yon mighty host, that girds our walls,
Fierce Maximin commands: whether of Thrace,
Or wild Dalmatia, so obscure his birth,
Himself scarce knows; but sure Barbarian born.
This savage soldier, nurs'd in blood and war,
Whom military frenzy hath set up
To trample on mankind, abhors a Roman;
And marks for death the noble and the brave.
His yoke, at last, th'indignant senate scorns,
The slumb'ring Genius of our country wakes,
And rouses slothful Italy to arms.
The furious tyrant from the frontier hastes,
Like a wild beast gall'd by the hunter's spear,
And, breathing vengeance, rushes upon Rome:
Here first oppos'd, tenfold his fury burns;
Here, in the pass of fate, our father stands,
Defies and stops the monster in his rage,
Till Rome's last legions come to give him battle.
Now, when a soldier's life is of such moment,
When destiny hangs on a single day,
To fight for glory, Titus, were a crime.

Titus.
No, Paulus, no! it is not fame alone
That Titus seeks to purchase from the foe;
Tho' such a crime the gods and men would pardon.
I know the peril that o'er Rome impends,
And know the hated cause of all our ills,
That army, only brave against their country,
I mean to smite them, and their giant leader,
Whom nature for a gladiator form'd,
To be the sport, and not the lord, of Rome.
The blow once struck, our foe must raise the siege,
Or waste his veterans in vain attacks,
And give to Gordianus easy conquest.

Paulus.
Were this a frontier city far from Rome,
And yon huge host compos'd of foes remote,
German, or Parthian; I would say to thee,
Lead on, my brother! Shield to shield we'd go,
And fire yon turret, or together perish.
But now when conquest by delay is gain'd,
When Aquileia guards the walls of Rome,
Dread of the great event has so possess'd me,
That, like the Persian soldier, I could stay
My arm uplifted, patient to the call
Of cautious Duty.

Titus.
And renouncing Fame?
Oh! Paulus! you have gain'd long since the prize
That I contend for. Every martial palm
Thy sword hath won. When I, like thee, am great
In deeds of arms, like thee I may be wary.
Now to my brother I lay bare my breast:
This famous siege approaches to its end;
Whatever end the ruling gods ordain,
Yet no distinguish'd action graces me.
I've done my duty. That I reckon nothing;
The meanest soldier has not shrunk from duty;
Son of Æmilius, and thy brother, Paulus!
I must do more, and by the gods I will!
Here I have found a path that leads to glory;
Do not oppose me, else—we're friends no more.—
Our father comes. Speak not against my purpose,
And I shall move the consul's noble mind.

Enter Æmilius.
Æmilius.
Health to my sons!

Paulus and Titus.
Heaven guard our father's life!

Æmilius.
And bless my children! ha! your looks are keen.
Your's chiefly, Titus! what hath stirr'd your spirit?
How points the enemy? This quiet night,
In preparation past, portends a storm.

Paulus.
On that attack which threats the eastern gate
The enemy hath labour'd all night long,
Repairing what the river's rage had ruin'd.

Æmilius.
It was a friendly flood. The river god
With all his waters guards his native walls;
On that strong quarter they can ne'er prevail.
The north I fear, where yon stupendous tower
Our works commands.

Titus.
It shall not long command,
Let but the consul grant me my desire.

Æmilius.
What would my son?

Titus.
Their tower is weakly guarded.
At break of day, a soldier from yon camp
Fled to my post; hollow and gaunt he was;
His shrivell'd limbs scarce bore his sounding arms.
Like him, he said, with toil and famine worn,
Were half the tyrant's host. For Maximin,
Mad with delay, and fiercer from repulse,
Reviles his soldiers, drives them to the trench
With whips and sharp reproach. This day, o'ercome
By strong necessity, he breathes a while,
And sends his legions forth, to gather in
Whatever this exhausted region yields.
I saw the busy foragers in troops
March, and disperse themselves on every side,
Like playful children on a summer day,
Secure and careless; for no martial band
Of late hath sallied from our guarded gates.
This is the time. Permit me, O my father!
Now to attack their ill defended lines,
And fire that mighty tower in which they trust.

Æmilius.
Well hast thou spoke, my son! thy zeal I love,
Nor must thy skill and judgment pass unprais'd.
Be thus attentive still, and trust me, Titus,
In future sieges, and in other wars,
Swift execution shall thy purpose honour.

Titus.
Ne'er shall I see another siege like this,
Ne'er draw my sword in such a glorious cause.
Alas! my lord! check not my spring of thought,
Nor nip the only bud it yet has borne.

Æmilius.
Riper occasions will thy valour claim.
Danger comes on; Typhæus-like it comes,
Whose fabled stature every hour encreas'd.

Titus.
O! judge not of the counsel by the weight
Of him that gives it. Would to heaven, my lord!
That I could now divest me of that youth
Which mars my credit. Chearfully I'd step
Far into age, to gain but for a day
The grave authority which years bestow.

Paulus.
What brings the brave Numidian Gartha hither?

Enter Gartha.
Gartha.
Hail to the general!

Æmilius.
Hail, valiant Gartha!
How has the morning past where you command?

Gartha.
It has been busy. The presumptuous foe
In loose disorder'd squadrons rang'd the fields.
I watch'd the time; and sudden as the blast
That rises in the desart, out we rush'd
And swept them from the plain. Safe in our speed
We urg'd the chace far as the rising ground,
And unmolested view'd the camp below.
This worthy of your notice I observ'd,
Their wond'rous tower, the work of many a day,
Stands now protected by a feeble guard.

Titus.
Thanks for thy welcome tidings, noble Gartha!
The guardian gods of Rome bend from their skies,
And point this action out. Hear me, my father!
If ever since my birth I gave thee joy,
If e'er thou did'st, as parents oft are wont,
Interpret large the promise of my childhood,
O hear and grant my chief and dear request!
Let me go forth: be this my first exploit,
To wrap in fire the tyrant's boasted tower;
That Rome, who glories in the Æmilian line,
May join your Titus to his kindred names!

Æmilius.
In thee the spirit of thy fathers speaks,
Or some superior power thy bosom fires,
Whom I oppose no more. Go, and fulfil
Thy destiny. Brave Gartha too shall add
His troops to thine. Prepare what else—

Titus.
'Tis done.
Destructive instruments and balls of fire
Are ready at the gate.

Æmilius.
Farewel, my son!
If you prevail, urge not too far your fortune.
Remember still my words; that when we meet,
I may have cause to praise thy conduct then,
As now thy courage, Titus.

Titus.
Gartha, come!

[Exeunt Titus and Gartha.
Æmilius.
Paulus, lead thou thy legion to the gate,
And favour their retreat. It may be needful;
But mix not in the fight, for mighty cities
Have been by such temerity surpriz'd.

Paulus.
Would that there was no Roman breast more prone
To rash attempts, than mine! I wish, my lord,
That I had led, and Titus had sustain'd me.

Enter an Officer.
Officer.

Æmilius.
Soldier, return, and publish to the legions
The welcome tidings of a near relief.

Officer.
Gladly, my lord. Much have the troops endur'd,
And with unshaken constancy they suffer.
[Exit Officer.

Paulus.
Had this advice arriv'd ere Titus went,
I think he hardly had obtain'd permission.
Tho' Maximin should raise an hundred towers,
And, like the Giants when they warr'd with Jove,
Pile mountains on each other, high as heaven,
For three short days his fury we may scorn.

Æmilius.
Go, and prevent the sally. Tell thy brother,
What the imperial mandate here contains.
It is the emperor's command recalls him.

Paulus.
With pleasure I obey.
[Exit Paulus.

Æmilius
alone.
I must reserve
My sons, my soldiers, for a nobler service,
And in the battle aid the Roman arms.
The hour approaches that must give to Rome
A legal Lord, by her own suffrage chosen,
Or fix a barb'rous master o'er mankind.
That barb'rous I shall never own.
If I could stoop to drag the servile chain,
And live the vassal of a vile Dalmatian,
Yet I could not conceal me in the croud
Of prostrate Romans; I that stood aloft,
And bore thro' Italy the senate's standard.
Fast by that standard will I plant my foot,
There with my boys a glorious conquest gain,
Or end at once the long Æmilian line.
[Cornelia appears.
Behold the only object that can shake
One moment my resolve! What will become
Of thee, Cornelia! doom'd perhaps to live,
Like Priam's wretched queen, the slave of those
By whom her sons, her husband, country fell.

Enter Cornelia and Priest.
Cornelia.
Why is my lord alone? Where are my sons?

Æmilius.
This day, Cornelia, brings us welcome tidings,
The Emperor approaches with his host.

Cornelia.
Thanks to the gods! But say, where are my children?

Æmilia.
This instant I expect them to return.

Cornelia.
From whence, Æmilius?

Æmilius.
From the northern gate.
Titus had form'd a brave, a great design;
But when assurance of relief arriv'd,
My Paulus hasten'd to recal his brother.

Cornelia.
'Tis as I fear'd. Paulus will come too late.
The omens of the gods must be fulfill'd.

Æmilius.
What evil omens has Cornelia seen?

Cornelia.
'Tis strange to tell; but as I slumb'ring lay,
About that hour when glad Aurora springs,
To chace the lagging shades, methought I was
In Rome, and full of peace the city seem'd.
My mind oblivious too had lost it's care.
Serene I step'd along the lofty hall,
Imbellish'd with the statues of our fathers,
When suddenly an universal groan
Issued at once from every marble breast.
Aghast I gaz'd around! when slowly down
From their high pedestals I saw descend
The murder'd Gracchi. Hand in hand, the brothers
Stalk'd towards me. As they approach'd more near,
They were no more the Gracchi, but my sons
Paulus and Titus. At that dreadful change
I shriek'd and wak'd. But never from my mind
The spectacle shall part. Their rueful eyes!
Their cheeks of stone! the look of death and woe!
So strange a vision ne'er from fancy rose.
The rest, my lord! this holy Priest can tell.

Æmilius.
Why this is nothing but a common dream;
For often when the waking mind is charg'd
With apprehension of uncertain ills,
Imagination, in the hour of rest,
Presenteth wild fantastic combinations,
That have a shade and tincture of the past:
But 'tis the weakness of the human mind
That joins the vain assemblage to futurity.

Priest.
Men reason thus, my lord! who think their reason
Can grasp and measure all; presumptuous thought!
Sounds more than human have been often heard,
And shapes celestial seen, by mortal man;
But yet most frequent in the silent night
Are warnings given by strange portentuous dreams.
The history of mighty Rome abounds
In awful instances. The old republic
By them has oft been sway'd, and oft preserv'd.

Æmilius.
But tell me, Priest of Jove! what do the gods
By their more certain omens now declare?

Priest.
Consul! with the most venerable rites
That our religion knows, I have perform'd
A sacrifice to Capitolian Jove,
This pious matron present: never yet
Since at the altars of the gods I stood
Did I behold such omens of calamity.
Yet they were intricate, ambiguous, dark;
And tho' some parts I might interpret fair,
Even these were mix'd and full of dire perplexity.
No further can I see into the cloud,
That veils the will of heaven; but this I say,
And by the scepter of the god I serve
It is the truth: Some dreadful danger hangs
O'er thee thyself, this city, or thy race.
(Shout.)

Cornelia.
Ha! what means that shout?

Æmilius.
It is a joyful shout.
Behold the cause: see where that dusky smoke
Darkens the air. And now the flame bursts out;
Their turret blazes, and my Titus conquers.

Cornelia.
O heaven and earth! O son too well belov'd!
Why do these cruel omens check my joy?

Enter an Officer.
Officer.
Consul! your valiant son hath fir'd the tower;
But whilst he urg'd too far the flying foe,
A band, that lay conceal'd beyond the height,
Has gain'd the plain between him and the city.

Æmilius.
O rashly brave! whom I forewarn'd in vain.—
Retire, Cornelia, yet he may be rescu'd.
Lucius.

Enter another Officer.
Lucius.
The northern gate unguarded stands:
For when brave Paulus saw his brother's peril,
He with his legion rush'd upon the foe,
And furious is the fight.

Cornelia.
Both, both are lost!

Æmilius.
Unhappy youths! My steady Paulus too!
Where is our discipline, obedience where?—
I have no leisure now for words, Cornelia!
Implore the gods to guard you and your children.

[Exit with his attendants.
Manent Cornelia, and Priest.
Cornelia.
Perhaps ere this Cornelia has no children!
They both are fallen into the fatal snare.
Tremendous oracle! too late reveal'd.

Priest.
Abandon not thy soul to such despair;
The sword of war, devouring as it is,
Consumes not all. The destin'd number die,
And from the bloodiest field still some return.

Cornelia.
My sons will ne'er return, I know them well.
The noble heart of Titus, if he lives,
This instant swells with grief, and pride, and shame.
Will he, the author of this fatal combat,
Forsake the soldiers whom he led to slaughter;
Return discomfited, and sav'd by flight,
To bear reproach, and blush in Aquileia?
He will not, holy Flamen! Nor will Paulus:
Calm as he is, and master of himself,
My generous Paulus will not leave his brother.
Alas! I never shall behold them more.
This is the evil that the gods foretold.
Ye constant matrons of Rome's former days!
Alas! I have no fortitude like yours.
Mine were no publick cares. In the mild shade
Of sweet domestic happiness I liv'd,
Till this fierce tempest rose, the storm of war,
Whose rage hath burst on the Æmilian race.

Priest.
Lady, retire. I to the walls will go,
And learn what has befallen. Remember thou,
How oft, in human life, the great conclusion
Of fear'd and wish'd events mocks all conjecture.

Exeunt.