University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE continues.
Enter Mithranes.

Enter Cambyses disguis'd.
Cambyses.
If in this land you venerate the pow'rs
Of hospitality, direct me, friend,
To where the annual sacrifice is held:
I come a votary from distant climes,
To pay my offering at Astarte's shrine,
And view the sacred pomp.

Mithranes.
Myself will thither
Conduct your steps—it must, it must be he.

[Aside.
Cambyses.
The Gods, protectors of your Median race,
Repay the courteous deed—but tell me farther;
How may a friendless stranger gain access
To princely Harpagus?

Mithranes.
The king now holds him
On business of the state: this day the people
Expect to find the kingdom's heir restor'd;
If haply thou hast heard the name of Cyrus.

Cambyses.
Fame has thro' many a land divulg'd your story:
I knew Cambyses; both in Persia born,
One city bred us: I remember well,
A private warrior, when he sought the court
Of Media's king, till by his merit rais'd
He gain'd Mandane's hand; but dearly since
He paid the price of love with years of exile.

Mithranes.
Shall I yet speak [Aside.]
—Since thou indeed hast known
[To Cambyses.
Unfortunate Cambyses—but behold
Astyages is near—avoid his presence:
Thy garb would breed suspicion in the king,
And danger to thyself—in that close covert
A while remain conceal'd.

[Cambyses retires.
Enter Astyages.
Astyages.
Guards, keep the pass
And suffer none to enter here.

[Speaks to Mirza entering.
Mithranes.
[Aside.]
What means
Astyages? has he beheld this stranger?
Or has some spy in evil hour for Cyrus,
Reveal'd the secret of his fate?

Astyages.
Mithranes!

Mithranes.
My sov'reign liege.

Astyages.
Are we alone?

Mithranes.
We are.

Astyages.
Come near, Mithranes, tell me, dost thou still
Retain in mind remembrance of the good
I did thee once?

Mithranes.
My mind retains it all.
When first received into your royal court
I ow'd your bounty much; and when I left
The pomp of cities for the sylvan wild,
It was your hand that gave this wish'd retreat.

Astyages.
Say, if my happiness, if all I sought
Depended on thy zeal, might I not then
Expect to find thee grateful?—answer me.

Mithranes.
What is there in my power that can avail
The welfare of my sov'reign?

Astyages.
Yes, my friend,
Thou can'st do much, can'st firmly fix the crown
Upon thy sovereign's brow—know, all I seek
Is in thy hand—yes, spite of our decree,
Cyrus preserv'd—

Mithranes.
What will my fate do with me!

[Aside.
Cambyses.
Did not my ears receive the name of Cyrus?

[Listening.
Astyages.
Thy colour fades; thou dost perhaps divine
What I would say.

Mithranes.
Thus prostrate at your feet—

[Kneels.
Astyages.
No, be not terrify'd, but rise—the deed
Is easier than thy fears have form'd it—Cyrus
Believes our summons, and already comes,
With some few Scythians, on the kingdom's borders,
To wait the expected meeting—well thou know'st,
For years accustom'd to this rustic dwelling,
Each outlet of the wood, and may'st with ease
In some close ambush so dispose of Cyrus,
That he may never wake my terrors more.

Cambyses.
Inhuman murderer!

[Aside.
Astyages.
What say'st thou, speak.

Mithranes.
It shall be so,—my king shall be obey'd.

[Aside.
Cambyses.
Most impious traytor!

[Aside.
Astyages.
For the attempt thyself
Alone will not suffice; thou must with care
Select thy trusty part'ners of the deed.

Mithranes.
There needs no other but my son Alcæus:
'Twere dangerous to confide to other hands,
An enterprize of such import—Alcæus,
Skill'd in the winding mazes of the wood,
Thro' which, at early dawn, he oft' is wont
To urge the savage chace, shall unsuspected
Reach with a distant shaft his life—

Astyages.
Enough—
'Tis well conceiv'd—go then, my best Mithranes,
Instruct thy son; tell him, Astyages
Expects from him the end of all his terrors;
The deed once done I plant him next my heart,
To grow to wealth and honours.

Mithranes.
Heavenly pow'rs!
[Aside.
Defend me still, and from suspicion's eye
Preserve yon stranger!

[Exit.
Astyages.
Now, methinks, my mind
Is eas'd of ev'ry fear—Let Cyrus die,
And with him die the many doubts that shake
The bosom of Astyages.

Enter Cambyses.
Cambyses.
Revoke
The dreadful mandate which thy lips pronounc'd,
Or by th'eternal gods, the great avengers
Of guiltless blood—

Astyages.
Ha! traitor! what art thou,
That lurking thus unseen—death be thy portion.

[Draws.
Cambyses.
Nay then—

[Draws.
Astyages.
Off, peasant!—dar'st thou lift thy hand
Against the sun's vicegerent!—

Enter Mirza and guards.
Mirza.
Seize the ruffian,
And instant drag him hence.

[Cambyses is disarmed, and at a signal from Astyages the guards retire.
Astyages.
Audacious villain!
Know'st thou what punishment awaits thy crime?
Already torture shakes his scorpions o'er thee,
And anguish claims thee as her destin'd prey:
Confess what motives urg'd thy desperate deed.

Cambyses.
Whate'er my motives, know, the soul that dares
Attempt a tyrant's life, has fortitude
To brave whate'er a tyrant can inflict.

Astyages.
Presumptuous slave!

Cambyses.
Look here, Astyages,
View well this face; do not these features wake
Thy recollection? Twice ten years of suff'rance
Have wrought some change, yet sure here still remains
The trace of what I have been.

Astyages.
Ha! whate'er
Thou art, rightly my better genius warn'd me,
That something baneful to my nature, lurk'd
Beneath those abject vestments.

Cambyses.
Tyrant, yes;
'Tis not for nought thy conscience takes the alarm;
For he's that injur'd ever is the bane
Of him that injures; let this meeting then
Rouse each awak'ning terror in thy soul,
To see the man thou most hast wrong'd—Cambyses.

[Throws open his disguise.
Astyages.
Thou wretch! how hast thou dar'd to enter Media
Against our high decree? And com'st thou too,
Assassin like, with sacrilegious rage
To lift thy hand against a monarch's life?
But thou shalt find a welcome.

Cambyses.
Yes, such welcome
As thy paternal love prepares for Cyrus;
Thou hoary ruffian! was it then for this
The nobles of the realm were summon'd here?
For this was Cyrus call'd, to fall a victim
To thy death-dealing minion—curs'd Mithranes!

Astyages.
Confusion! am I then betray'd?

[Aside.
Cambyses.
For me!
I scorn thy feeble menaces; I know
My life awaits thy nod—but mark me well,
The time may come, ev'n now perhaps the black,
The fatal hour impends, when thou shalt feel
The avenging hand of heaven.

Astyages.
What say'st thou, ha!
Does secret treason lurk amid the smiles
Of seeming loyalty? Give me to know
What mischief threatens.

Cambyses.
Seek to know no more;
Let it suffice I've given thy terrors birth,
And be it thine to cherish them.

Astyages.
Ho! guards!
Convey this traytor to yon city's walls,
And lay him in some loathsome dungeon; there,
There shalt thou learn to speak.

Cambyses.
Thy rage is fruitless;
Hope not from me to be inform'd of aught
That may import thy safety.

Astyages.
Lead him hence—
I'll hear no further—shall a wretch proscrib'd
Revile the awful majesty of kings;
And dare his anger, whose all-pow'rful word
Can in a moment six his doom?—Away.

Cambyses.
Come, whither must I go? Conduct me where
The cavern'd earth unfolds her deepest prison,
Where light ne'er dawns; yet steady virtue there
Shall dissipate the gloom; there the firm soul
Shall smile in torture, when amidst the blaze
Of courts, the tyrant's mind shall shrink in darkness,
And while security surrounds his throne,
Trembles with fancy'd terrors!

[Exit guarded.
Manent Astyages and Mirza.
Astyages.
Yes, I feel
His threats already here; my lab'ring breast
Teems with new fears—Mirza.

Mirza
, coming forward.
What would my sov'reign?

Astyages.
Whence did this daring rebel break upon us,
And how elude thy vigilance?

Mirza.
My lord,
No steps un-notic'd could have pass'd the guard;
Cambyses must have lurk'd in secret here
Beneath some neighbouring shade; nor knew we aught
Of danger near your person, till the sound
Of tumult brought us to your timely rescue.

Astyages
aside.
What should I think? is then Mithranes false?
Mirza, I thank thy zeal; be ever thus
And I'll reward thee—sure some deep design
Is brooding now against me—

Enter Mandane.
Mandane.
Hear me, sir,
O! by these tears—

Astyages.
What would my daughter? rise—

Mandane.
O never, never,—here I'll grow to earth
'Till pity, kindling in a father's breast,
Extend a gracious hand to save Cambyses.

Astyages.
Cambyses!—name him not.

Mandane.
Alas! my father,
After a tedious twenty years of absence,
Fate now returns him, but returns in vain,
If, by your anger, he's deny'd to view
His lov'd Mandane, to behold his son
Preserv'd; but ah! for him preserv'd in vain!

Astyages.
Had'st thou, Mandane, heard his rebel threats,
His daring insults breath'd against the throne—

Mandane.
Forgive the transport of a bosom, torn
With double pangs, the father, and the husband:
Alas! perhaps, he knew not Cyrus liv'd,
He knew not that Astyages had fix'd
This day, to meet and name him for his heir.

Astyages.
And pleads my daughter in defence of him
Whose impious hand assail'd my life?

Mandane.
O heaven!

Astyages.
Tell me, when treason works the secret mine
To sap my kingdom, shall Mandane's tongue
Extenuate his offence who plans my fall?
But thou, perhaps, art privy to their wiles,
Perhaps confederate with thy father's foes.

Mandane.
What do I hear? And can your thoughts suggest
(My soul is chill'd with horror) that Mandane
Would join in murder's black conspiracy
Against the hand that gave me life?

Astyages.
I know not—
Whom should I fear? Methinks I see rebellion
Where duty's most profess'd! and those my power
Can shake with terror, give me equal dread:
But for Cambyses, would'st thou prove thy truth,
Name him no more—thus much a father grants,
He shall not die—I to your tears remit
His forfeit life, which else had fall'n the victim
Of torture's sharpest pangs—but as I prize
My crown, again he's banish'd from the land.

[Exit.
Mandane.
And is it thus my fate begins to smile?
Is this the meeting Harpagus foretold!
O! my Cambyses!
Enter Cyrus.
What art thou, that break'st
Thus importunely on my grief?

Cyrus.
Forgive
This seeming rudeness, beauteous excellence;
A son of freedom, nurtur'd in these woods,
Now shuns a fate, that threats that liberty
Which bounteous nature gave.

Mandane.
What dost thou mean?

Cyrus.
The royal guards pursue my steps, and soon
These limbs, that 'till this hour, have rang'd at large
O'er the steep hill, or through the forest shade,
May feel the galling weight of servile chains.

Mandane.
Declare thy crime.

Cyrus.
My crime was self-defence:
Th'oppressor's sword was rais'd against my life,
But heav'n then nerv'd my strength, and from this arm
The wretch receiv'd that death he meant to give.

Mandane.
What means my throbbing bosom?—Gentle youth,
Proceed—methinks I feel some secret impulse
To listen to thy story.

Cyrus.
As but now
Alone I sought the temple, from the woods
I heard a cry of deep distress:—I turn'd
And saw two ruffians seize a beauteous maid;
Fir'd at the brutal deed I cast my dart,
And one I slew; the other, struck with terror,
Forsook th'affrighted fair, who trembling fled,
And ere I could pursue her steps, a youth
Of fierce demeanour, clad in rich attire,
With sword unsheath'd, impetuous cross'd my way,
And menac'd vengeance for his slain companion—
But see the nymph herself, whom fav'ring heav'n
Sent me to save.

Enter Aspasia.
Mandane.
Wert thou the maid distress'd?
And is it true, that thou hast 'scap'd the arm
Of brutal violence?

Aspasia.
Yes, fell destruction
Was hov'ring o'er me, when behold the friend,
That freed Aspasia from impending ruin,
With peril of his own—but, thanks to heav'n,
My brave defender lives.—Say, gallant youth,
How did'st thou 'scape the ruffian's boist'rous rage,
That threaten'd thee with death?

Mandane.
Relate the sequel;
For since Aspasia bears an interest in it,
My heart more freely listens to thy tale.

Cyrus.
But little now remains—the fierce invader
Still press'd upon me, whilst a river flow'd
Behind my steps, preventing all retreat;
Disarm'd, what could I do? Necessity
Supply'd me with new arms; sudden I snatch'd
A craggy flint from the rough pebbled shore,
And launch'd against the foe; a sanguine stream
Bath'd all his face, the sword forsook his hand,
And as he stagger'd round, with dying grasp
He seiz'd a bough, that over-hung the tide,
Which yielding to his weight, at once he fell,
And in the waves was lost.

Mandane.
Is this the crime
That justice should pursue? Yes, my Aspasia,
'Midst all the anguish of a breaking heart,
I feel a dawn of joy for thy deliverance.

Aspasia.
What new distress afflicts Mandane?

Cyrus.
Gods!
[Aside.
Was it Mandane whom I thus unknown
Have held in converse?

Mandane.
Oh! I'll tell thee all,
And rest my sorrows on thy faithful bosom.

Enter Officer and Guards.
Officer.
Secure yon traitor, who has dar'd to raise
His sacrilegious hand against his prince.

Mandane.
Against his prince!

Officer.
'Tis to his arm we owe
The death of Cyrus.

Mandane.
Say'st thou—death of Cyrus!

Cyrus.
It must be so—mysterious Providence!
[Aside.
This hand, impell'd by some o'er-ruling pow'r,
Has slain th'impostor that usurp'd my name.

Mandane.
And did I hear thee right? Speak, speak, Aspasia,
What meant his words?—Was Cyrus then the slain?
O impious villain!

Officer.
'Tis, alas! too true,
The prince is dead, and by this youth.

Aspasia.
O! heav'n!

Cyrus
, aside.
I must reveal my self—but, no, I have sworn
To keep my birth still secret.

Mandane.
O perfidious!
And cam'st thou then to me!—O all ye Gods!
To tell a well-feign'd story of thy deeds,
And thus deride a wretched mother's grief.

Cyrus.
Alas! I knew not, princess—

Mandane.
Peace, deceiver;
Thou knew'st too well—thy tale is falsehood all.
O my lov'd son!—thy mother's better part!
And have I lost thee thus again?—distraction!
O! my torn heart!

Cyrus.
I cannot bear her grief.

[Aside.
Mandane.
Speak, dear Aspasia, were not then my fears
Indeed prophetic? thus to lose a son,
To find my hopes thus blasted in their spring,
A mother's fondest hopes!

Cyrus.
O heaven! you know not—
The youth who fell beneath this hand—O! torture.

Mandane.
Guards, drag the monster strait before the king—

Aspasia.
O princess, calm the tempest of your rage;
If by resistless fate impell'd, the youth
Incurr'd this guilt, indulgent heaven extends
Forgiveness to involuntary crimes;
Then imitate the mercy of the Gods.

Mandane.
No more Aspasia—the relentless Gods
To me no mercy shew—my son is murder'd,
My husband doom'd once more to banishment!
What is there else remains in angry fate
To add to what I suffer! every hour
Of my succeeding life is mark'd for horror,
And all my thoughts are now despair and madness.

[Exit.
Manent Cyrus, Aspasia, Officer and Guards.
Cyrus.
Go, fair Aspasia, follow and support her,
And O! in pity sooth a mother's sorrows.

Aspasia.
A mother's sorrows from Aspasia's friendship
Shall claim the tenderest care—And yet, Alcæus,
This bosom now has terrors of its own,
I must confess I fear—

Cyrus.
What fears afflict
Thy gentle breast?

Aspasia.
The danger of Alcæus:
Think'st thou I can behold the gallant youth,
Who freed me from the ruffian grasp of pow'r,
Expos'd to death, yet feel not for his safety?

Cyrus.
My safety merits not Aspasia's care;
Nor think the succour this weak arm could give
To innocence distress'd, was more than heaven
Claims from a heart, that, though in forests bred,
Glows at another's suff'rings.

Aspasia.
Generous youth!
Wherefore, ah! wherefore has relentless fate
Involv'd such virtue in misfortune's maze!
And urg'd thy hand to shed thy prince's blood;
That hand, which seem'd by every God design'd
To guard the life it took.

Officer.
Remove the prisoner.

Cyrus.
Farewell, Aspasia, and remember time
May soon dispell this cloud of seeming guilt
Now cast around Alcæus.

[Exit guarded.
Aspasia
alone.
Grant it heaven!
What mean these heaving sighs, these swelling tears,
Why flutters thus my heart? Is it compassion,
Or gratitude to him whose valour sav'd me?
Ah! no—I fear a gentler cause excites
These strange emotions—Spite of all the pride
My sex and rank inspire—I love Alcæus:
This sylvan hero bears down my resolves
That still have prov'd in vain: when with my father
Chance led me first to visit good Mithranes,
I gaz'd with pleasure on his blooming son;
Again I saw, yet knew not that I lov'd him,
'Till this day's act that sav'd me from dishonour—
And yet for this day's act Alcæus dies—
And shall he die for thee?—Ah! no, Aspasia,
The guilt was thine, thy fate has murder'd Cyrus;
Then let me seek the king, plead for Alcæus,
And for his forfeit life lay down my own.

[Exit.