University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE, A Wood. The pavilion of Astyages seen at a distance.
Enter Mandane and Mithranes.
Mandane.
What hast thou said, Mithranes? Is Alcæus
My son, my dearest Cyrus?

Mithranes.
Peace, Mandane,
O heavens! be heedful.

Mandane.
Where is now the danger?

Mithranes.
Danger is ev'ry where: when cruelty
Extends her iron reign, we ne'er can keep
Too strict a guard upon our speech: a dream
May rouze the slumbering fury: fell suspicion
On innocence will stamp the mark of guilt,
And tyranny assumes the mien of justice
To punish crimes that never yet had being.
The genial feast, the nuptial bed, the temples
Are not secure from treachery.

Mandane.
At least
Confirm my doubting thoughts.

Mithranes.
What further proof
Can you require? Ask your own heart, Mandane;
Your heart will testify a mother's feeling.

Mandane.
'Tis true, 'tis true—O! I remember all—
When first I view'd Alcæus, how my blood
Thrill'd with some unknown passion! Why, Mithranes,
Wou'd'st thou so long conceal him from my love?

Mithranes.
I fear'd to trust maternal tenderness,
Which wisdom ill can rule; had not your sorrows
Awak'd my pity, had I not suspected
The worst from your revenge against Alcæus,
To you your son had still remain'd unknown.

Mandane.
And yet Mandane's wretched, envious fortune,
Spite of the sunshine that would gild the prospect,
Spreads o'er my day affliction's sable clouds.
Cyrus return'd and living must excite
A mother's dearest transports; but Cambyses
Return'd, and doom'd again to banishment,
Unseen, unwelcom'd, swells this heart with anguish.

Mithranes.
Alas! my princess, calm your grief; let hope
Point you to future scenes of happiness:
Heav'n that preserv'd your Cyrus, will again
Restore Cambyses to your longing arms,
And give him back to liberty and love.

Mandane.
Fain would I listen to the flattering sounds
Of happiness and peace—But yet, Mithranes,
Thou hast not told the fortunes of my child:
Relate whate'er his tender youth has suffer'd,
By what strange means—declare each circumstance.

Mithranes.
Some fitter time must tell thee—in the grove
That leads to my retreat—meet me ere long,
And thou shalt learn it all—but soft; from far
I see the king approaching.

Mandane.
Let us fly,
And bear to him the news that Cyrus lives.

Mithranes.
O hold! 'twas this I fear'd—

Mandane.
Thou know'st my son
Is now a prisoner.

Mithranes.
But consent to leave me,
And keep his birth still secret from your father,
I plight my life to free him from his chains,
And give him to your arms.

Mandane.
Is't possible?
And may Mandane in thy faith confide?

Mithranes.
Confide in me!—Almighty powers! is this,
This the reward for all my loyal service!
Is then my truth suspected!

Mandane.
O! forgive
Th'involuntary doubt, forgive the thoughts
Of one, who long the mark of sorrow's shafts,
Distrusts each promis'd joy—I know thy goodness;
Yes, thou wilt still prevent my busy fears,
Minister to my hopes with faithful hand,
And to preserve the mother, save the son.

[Exit.
Mithranes.
Mandane, yes—still in this care-worn breast,
Thy Cyrus lives; time, that unnerves these limbs,
Strengthens my loyal truth—be these white locks
An emblem of my faith—But see the king,
Impatient for the news for Cyrus' fate.

Enter Astyages.
Astyages.
Mithranes!

Mithranes.
Sir, your mandate is obey'd;
Be ev'ry fear that Cyrus rais'd, forgotten,
For Cyrus is no more.

Astyages.
I know it well:
How do I stand indebted to thy zeal:
And yet, my friend, all is not here at ease,
I fear our secret is betray'd; Cambyses
Reproach'd me with the purpos'd deed; Mithranes,
Tell me what says report? Does the loud tongue
Of popular invective point at me,
Or does suspicion sleep?

Mithranes.
No rumour yet,
Of this, my lord, has reach'd my watchful ear;
Your guards convey'd Cambyses pris'ner hence,
Nor aught from him has rouz'd the public notice
Respecting what your thoughts suggest.

Astyages.
Enough—
Retire my friend.

Mithranes.
Permit me to remind
My sovereign master, that my son Alcæus—

Astyages.
I know what thou would'st say—thy son's in bonds;
Already have I in my thoughts resolv'd
To set him free, to heap rewards upon him;
But yet we must beware, it might be dangerous
At once to pardon him whom all the realm
Must mark for open vengeance; such proceeding
Might give a sanction to whate'er the breath
Of discontent might raise against their king.
Trust to my care—I'll watch th'important crisis—
Farewell, Mithranes.

[Exit Mithranes.
Astyages.
O! Astyages!
To what art thou reduc'd! The king's become
The slave of slaves—I now detest the wretch
Subservient to my fears, but death shall soon
Seal up his lips,—Alcæus too shall die.
The fate of Cyrus yields a fair pretence—
But hold—should these by public justice suffer,
It must not be—some private hand were best—
But then Cambyses—yes, he too must fall,
Or we are lost—What dire necessity
Plunges me deeper still in guilt! one crime
Begets a thousand! Heav'ns! how is my soul
Bewilder'd in extremes of rage and dread!
I'm cruel from my fears, and from my cruelty
My fears increase, while one eternal round
Of torture plays the tyrant in my breast.

Enter Harpagus.
Harpagus.
Alas! my Lord.

Astyages.
What say'st thou, Harpagus?
Why are those looks of terror?

Harpagus.
Mighty king,
I fear for thee; I fear for Media's safety;
Ev'n majesty itself is not secure.

Astyages.
Hast thou discover'd aught of treason then
Against our person?

Harpagus.
No—but Cyrus slain
Alarms each loyal bosom, while his blood
Calls out for vengeance on the murderer's head.

Astyages.
My friend, hast thou then heard thy king's affliction?
Yes, cruel fate, at one unlook'd-for stroke,
Has robb'd my age of every promis'd comfort.

Harpagus.
O mockery of grief! but with deceit
Deceit shall be repaid.

[Aside.
Astyages.
To increase my sorrow,
Justice forbids me to revenge the deed,
And punish on the wretch who murder'd Cyrus,
Th'involuntary crime—the care be thine
To guard him safe 'till we decree his doom.

Enter Aspasia.
Aspasia.
O mighty king! behold a prostrate maid,
Imploring grace.

Astyages.
Aspasia, speak thy guilt.

Harpagus.
What means my daughter? whither can this tend?

Aspasia.
A crime of deeper dye ne'er stain'd a subject;
'Tis I'm the wretched cause of Cyrus' death;
'Tis I'm the wretched cause that Media mourns;
'Tis I alone am guilty, not Alcæus:
In my defence, alas! th'ill-fated youth
Was urg'd, unconscious, to the deed—O give
Your royal mercy breath, and spare his life.

Astyages.
Aspasia, rise; and learn whate'er the motive
That urges thus thy pity for Alcæus,
Tho' nature loudly plead within my breast
For vengeance on the hand that murder'd Cyrus,
Astyages, unbiass'd by her voice,
Will act as public justice shall determine.

Harpagus.
O royal hypocrite! but this rash girl
Has wak'd a thought that 'till this hour escap'd
The cautious search of all-discerning age.
[Aside.
My liege, the prisoner, by his guards conducted,
Is this way bending.

[To Astyages.
Astyages.
Let us then behold him,
Tho' nature at his sight recoil.

Harpagus.
He's here.

Enter Cyrus guarded.
Astyages.
Say, is this youth the offspring of Mithranes?

Harpagus.
Dread sir, he is.

Astyages.
He bears a noble aspect;
Those looks erect, that open mien, bespeak not
A lowly birth—What say'st thou, Harpagus?

Harpagus.
Appearance oft deceives; not always does
The polish'd court display the fairest forms;
And in the simple rustic's homely cell,
Nature sometimes assumes a nameless grace,
Which greatness cannot reach.

Astyages.
Yet, Harpagus,
There's something in those looks that moves me strangely.

Harpagus.
My fears increase— [Aside.]
Retire, my lord, his presence
But adds to your affliction.

Cyrus
advancing.
Mighty king,
Ere you depart, permit me thus to approach
With reverend awe; howe'er this erring hand
May call for public vengeance, yet believe
No conscious guilt draws down the stroke of justice;
Here then before your sacred feet—

Harpagus.
Forbear,—
Intrude not rashly on thy sovereign's grief,
Think who thou art, and what has brought thee hither;
Let it suffice thee in respectful silence
To await the laws decree.

Cyrus.
I stand reprov'd,
And bow me to the justice of the king.

Harpagus.
Still do you pause, my lord, what means this wonder?
Why are your looks thus chang'd?

Astyages.
I know not why:
I feel emotions never known before;
And my heart melts with sudden tenderness;
I leave him to thy care.

[Exit.
Harpagus.
Again my soul's
At ease—Retire, Aspasia, with the criminal
I would be left alone.

[Cyrus walks apart.
Aspasia.
My dearest father,
If e'er you lov'd Aspasia, if the hand
Of this Alcæus sav'd her from the rage
Of an inhuman spoiler, do not sully
Her brave deliverer with the name of guilt.

Harpagus.
Has he not shed the royal blood?

Aspasia.
Alas!
He knew not that the youth he slew was Cyrus.
To guard his life he but repuls'd a force
That first assail'd.

Harpagus.
No more, but leave me.

Aspasia.
O!
If you defend him not, you never lov'd
Yor poor Aspasia—Think you now behold her
All pale and trembling in the ruffian's pow'r,
Hear her invoking earth and heav'n to aid,
Behold Alcæus hasting to her rescue,
And say, my father, then—

Harpagus.
Take heed, Aspasia,
I fear me something more than gratitude
Is hid beneath this warmth—but mark me well,
Unthinking maid, and hear a father's caution:
Let not imagination raise such hopes
As thou may'st find too late but ill befit
Thy glory, and my own.
[Exit Aspasia.
Let all depart,
And leave me with the prisoner.
[Guards retire.
Thanks to heaven,
I can at length, without constraint, address
My vows to Cyrus, from my prince's hands
Loose these vile manacles—before him bend
The humble knee of loyalty.

[Kneels.
Cyrus.
O! rise.

Harpagus.
Permit me here to pay my earliest tribute;
Be this embrace the first, the sole reward
My truth shall challenge.
[Embraces Cyrus's knees.
Yet forgive me, Cyrus,
If down my cheek unbidden steals a tear,
When I behold that young, that blooming grace,
Spite of my constancy, ideas rise
Of tenderest recollection—I confess
The father here—but hence, ye soft'ning thoughts,
Be witness, heav'n, above my pangs I prize
This interview, tho' purchas'd with a son.

Cyrus.
Rise, my deliverer—and while I thus
Enfold thee in my arms, accept these tears,
The sole returns which gratitude can yield
For all thy suff'rings; but above the rest,
For that unhappy son decreed to fall
An early victim in the cause of Cyrus.

Harpagus.
Let not the sorrows of a subject claim
The tears of royalty.

Cyrus.
Does royalty
Exempt the breast from every social tye
That links mankind? Shall kings, my Harpagus,
Forget, that one inspiring breath to life
Awak'd the prince and peasant; and shall he,
The public voice proclaims his people's father,
Not feel those sorrows which his children feel.

Harpagus.
Exalted youth!

Cyrus.
Yes, I have heard it all.
Mithranes has unroll'd the secret page
That chronicles thy deeds; there I've perus'd
All that I owe to thee—and yet, my friend,
When I reflect, that after years of exile,
Cambyses now return'd, is doom'd once more
To ignominious bonds; when I reflect,
These eyes have never yet beheld, these arms
Embrac'd a father—

Harpagus.
But the hour approaches
Shall give thee ev'ry wish; as yet the work
Is incomplete, when yon declining sun
Shall gild with feeble rays the temple's summit,
Thy fortune shall assume a brighter aspect.

Cyrus.
But still, Mandane,—ever honour'd name,
Still shall she mourn a son's imagin'd fate?
Shall I not see her, Harpagus, and speak
The voice of comfort to a mother's grief?

Harpagus.
Alas! your filial piety o'er leaps
The bounds of cooler prudence—let us then
Be circumspect, my prince; nor in a moment
Destroy the great, the labour'd work of years;
But I must hence, Astyages expects me;
Mean while, retir'd to good Mithranes' dwelling,
Securely wait the great event, which time
Prepares for speedy birth.

[Exit.
Enter Cyrus and Mandane.
Cyrus.
O! could Mandane
Surmise, that in Alcæus lives—

Mandane.
This way
They led him to the king.

[Entering.
Cyrus.
What tender sound,
No stranger to these ears—Ha! 'tis Mandane.

Mandane.
It is, it is my son, my only child,
My dear, my long lost Cyrus.

Cyrus.
Heav'nly pow'rs!
She knows me!

Mandane.
Turn, O! turn for shelter here
Within these arms—O! wherefore dost thou shun me?
Why fly from my embraces?

Cyrus.
Mighty gods!
What shall I answer?—

Mandane.
Scatter to the winds
Each lingering doubt—I am, I am thy mother—
Does not thy heart confess me?

Cyrus.
O! no more,
There is a something here—forgive me, princess,
I dare no longer stay—

Mandane.
Dost thou avoid me?

Cyrus.
Has she not known it all, and shall I still
Distract her bosom thus?—O! never, never,
Since fortune thus compels me—No, my oath
Is register'd above—the solemn tye
Mithranes only can release.

[Aside.
Mandane.
Go on:
Think with an eager mother's fond attention,
I listen to thy words—He hears me not!
Why dost thou hold a converse with thyself?
What means that restless step?—Why is thy speech
Confus'd and broken? Hast thou not been told
That I'm thy mother? if thou hast, ah! why
Would'st thou estrange thyself? and if till now
Thou knew'st it not, why wilt thou thus receive
A mother's love with coldness? Speak.

Cyrus.
My blood
Is all in tumult, ev'ry throbbing pulse
Confesses nature's pow'r.

Mandane.
Are these the transports
I vainly hop'd! Where are the starting tears
Of mutual fondness? Where the dear embrace,
And the enquiries of impatient love?
This is too much—either thou'rt not my son,
Or, to complete Mandane's misery,
Nature in thee reverses all her laws.

Cyrus.
Yes, I will fly this instant to Mithranes.

[Going.
Mandane.
Wilt thou not speak to me?

Cyrus.
Yet, yet a while
Suspend your fond distress till my return.

[Going.
Mandane.
But 'ere thou goest, with one poor word relieve
These cruel doubts—art thou, or not, my Cyrus?

Cyrus.
Farewell—I can no more—necessity
Compels me now to silence, but when next
We meet, this face shall undisguis'd declare
Th'emotions of my heart, and unreserv'd
These faithful lips pour all my soul before thee.

[Exit.
Mandane
alone.
What may this mean? Are then my hopes deceiv'd?
It cannot be—yet this mysterious meeting
Gives ev'ry fear th'alarm—Ye pow'rs! that guard
(If such there are) a mother's peace, remove
These new sprung doubts; and, oh! direct my steps,
Lost and bewilder'd in this maze of fate.