University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene a Rampart near the Harbour.
Enter Melanthon and Philotas.
Melan.
And lives he still?

Philo.
He does; and kindly aliment
Renews the springs of life.

Melan.
And doth he know
The glorious work the destinies prepare?

Philo.
He is inform'd of all.

Melan.
That Greek Timoleon
Comes his deliverer, and the fell usurper
Pants in the last extreme?

Philo.
The glorious tidings
Have reach'd his ear.

Melan.
Lead on, propitious Pow'r,
Your great design; second the Grecian arms,
And whelm the sons of Carthage in the deep.

Philo.
This hour decides their doom; and, lo! Euphrasia
Stands on the jutting rock, that rock, where oft
Whole days she sat in pensive sorrow fix'd,
And swell'd with streaming tears the restless deep.
There, now with other sentiments elate,
She views Timoleon with victorious prow
Glide thro' the waves, and sees the scatter'd navy
Of Carthage fly before him.

Melan.
Blest event!
Evander, if thou mock'st me not, shall live
Once more to see the justice of the Gods.
But wilt thou still protect my royal master?
Wilt thou admit me to his wish'd-for presence?

Philo.
Let it suffice that no assassin's aim
Can now assault him—I must hence, Melanthon;
I now must mingle with the tyrant's train,
And, with a semblance of obsequious duty,
Delude suspicion's eye—My friend, farewel.

[Exit.
Melanthon.
If he deceive me not with specious hopes,
I shall behold the sov'reign, in whose service
These temples felt the iron casque of war,
And these white hairs have silver'd o'er my head.

Enter Euphrasia.
Euphra.
See there; behold 'em; lo! the fierce encounter;
He rushes on; the ocean flames around
With the bright flash of arms; the echoing hills
Rebellow to the roar.

Melan.
The Gods are with us,
And victory is ours.

Euphra.
High on the stern
The Grecian leaders stand; they stem the surge;
Launch'd from their arm the missive lightnings fly,
And the Barbaric fleet is wrapt in fire.
And lo! yon bark, down in the roaring gulph;
And there, more, more are perishing—Behold!
They plunge for ever lost.

Melan.
So perish all,
Who from yon continent unfurl their sails,
To shake the freedom of this sea-girt isle!

Euphra.
Did I not say, Melanthon, did I not
Presage the glories of Timoleon's triumph!
Where now are Afric's sons? The vanquish'd tyrant
Shall look aghast; his heart shall shrink appall'd,
And dread his malefactions! Worse than famine,
Despair shall fasten on him!—

Enter Dionysius, Calippus, &c.
Dion.
Base deserters!
Curse on their punic faith! Did they once dare
To grapple with the Greek? Ere yet the main
Was ting'd with blood, they turn'd their ships averse.
May storms and tempests follow in their rear,
And dash their fleet upon the Lybian shore!

Enter Calippus.
Calip.
My liege, Timoleon where the harbour opens
Has storm'd the forts, and ev'n now his fleet
Pursues its course, and steers athwart the bay.

Dion.
Ruin impends; and yet, if fall it must,
I bear a mind to meet it, undismay'd,
Unconquer'd ev'n by Fate.

Calip.
Through ev'ry street
Despair and terror fly. A panic spreads
From man to man, and superstition sees
Jove arm'd with thunder, and the Gods against us.

Dion.
With sacred rites their wrath must be appeas'd.
Let instant victims at the altar bleed;
Let incense roll its fragrant clouds to Heav'n,
And pious matrons, and the virgin train,
In slow procession to the temple bear
The image of their Gods.

Euphra.
Ha!—Does the tyrant
Dare with unhallow'd step, with crimes and guilt,
Approach the sacred fane? Alas! my father,
Where now thy sanctuary?—What place shall hide
Thy persecuted virtue? (Aside.)


Dion.
Thou, Euphrasia,
Lead forth the pious band.—This very moment
Issue our orders.

Euphra.
With consenting heart
Euphrasia goes to waft her pray'rs to Heav'n.

[Exit.
Dion.
The solemn sacrifice, the virgin throng,
Will gain the popular belief, and kindle
In the fierce soldiery religious rage.
Away, my friends, prepare the solemn pomp.
[Exit Calippus, &c.
Philotas, thou draw near: how fares your prisoner?
Has he yet breath'd his last?

Philo.
Life ebbs apace;
To-morrow's sun sees him a breathless corse.

Dion.
Curse on his ling'ring pangs! Sicilia's crown.
No more shall deck his brow; and if the sand
Still loiter in the glass, thy hand, my friend,
May shake it thence.

Philo.
It shall, dread Sir; that task
Leave to thy faithful servant.

Dion.
Oh! Philotas,
Thou little know'st the cares, the pangs of empire.
The ermin'd pride, the purple that adorns
A conqueror's breast, but serves, my friend, to hide
A heart that's torn, that's mangled with remorse.
Each object round me wakens horrid doubts;
The flatt'ring train, the sentinel that guards me,
The slave that waits, all give some new alarm,
And from the means of safety dangers rise.
Ev'n victory itself plants angush here,
And round my laurels the fell serpent twines.

Philo.
Would Dionysius abdicate his crown,
And sue for terms of peace?

Dion.
Detested thought!
No, though ambition teems with countless ills,
It still has charms of pow'r to fire the soul.
Tho' horrors multiply around my head,
I will oppose them all. The pomp of sacrifice
But now ordain'd, is mockery to Heav'n.
'Tis vain, 'tis fruitless; then let daring guilt
Be my inspirer, and consummate all.
Where are those Greeks, the captives of my sword,
Whose desp'rate valour rush'd within our walls,
Fought near our person, and the pointed lance
Aim'd at my breast?

Philo.
In chains they wait their doom.

Dion.
Give me to see 'em; bring the slaves before me.

Philo.
What, ho! Melanthon, this way lead your prisoners.

Enter Melanthon with Greek Officers and Soldiers.
Dion.
Assassins and not warriors! do ye come,
When the wide range of battle claims your sword,
Thus do you come against a single life
To wage the war? Did not our buckler ring
With all your darts in one collected volley
Showr'd on my head? Did not swords at once
Point at my breast, and thirst for regal blood?

Greek Of.
We sought thy life. I am by birth a Greek,
An open foe in arms I meant to slay
The foe of human kind.—With rival ardour
We took the field; one voice, one mind, one heart;
All leagu'd, all covenanted: in yon camp
Spirits there are who aim, like us, at glory.
Whene'er you sally forth, whene'er the Greeks
Shall scale your walls, prepare thee to encounter
A like assault. By me the youth of Greece
Thus notify the war they mean to wage.

Dion.
Thus then I warn them of my great revenge.
Whoe'er in battle shall become our pris'ner,
In torment meets his doom.

Greek Of.
Then wilt thou see,
How vile the body to a mind that pants
For genuine glory. Twice three hundred Greeks
Have sworn, like us, to hunt thee thro' the ranks;
Ours the first lot; we've fail'd; on yonder plain
Appear in arms, the faithful band will meet thee.

Dion.
Vile slave, no more. Melanthon drag 'em hence
To die in misery. Impal'd alive
The winds shall parch them on the craggy cliff.
Selected from the rest let one depart
A messenger to Greece, to tell the fate
Her chosen sons, her first adventurers, met.

[Exit.
Melan.
Unhappy men! how shall my care protect
Your forfeit lives?—Philotas, thou conduct them
To the deep dungeon's gloom. In that recess,
'Midst the wild tumult of eventful war.
We may ward off the blow. My friends, farewel;
That officer will guide your steps.

[All follow Philotas, except Phocion.
Pho.
Disguis'd
Thus in a soldier's garb he knows me not.
Melanthon!—

Melan.
Ha!—Those accents!—Phocion here!

Pho.
Yes, Phocion here! Speak, quickly tell me, say
How fares Euphrasia?

Melan.
Ha! beware;—Philotas,
Conduct these pris'ners hence; this soldier here
Shall bear the tidings to Timoleon's camp.

Pho.
Oh! satisfy my doubts; how fares Euphrasia?

Melan.
Euphrasia lives, and fills the anxious moments
With ev'ry virtue.—Wherefore venture hither?
Why with rash valour penetrate our gates?

Pho.
Could I refrain? Oh! could I tamely wait
Th'event of ling'ring war? With patience count
The lazy-pacing hours, while here in Syracuse
The tyrant keeps all that my heart holds dear?
For her dear sake, all danger sinks before me;
For her I burst the barriers of the gate,
Where the deep cavern'd rock affords a passage.
A hundred chosen Greeks pursu'd my steps,
We forc'd an entrance; the devoted guard
Fell victims to our rage; but in that moment
Down from the walls superior numbers came.
The tyrant led them on. We rush'd upon him,
If we could reach his heart, to end the war.
But Heav'n thought otherwise, Melanthon, say,
I fear to ask it, lives Evander still?

Melan.
Alas, he lives imprison'd in the rock.
Thou must withdraw thee hence; regain once more
Timoleon's camp; alarm his slumb'ring rage:
Assail the walls: thou with thy phalanx seek
The subterraneous path; that way at night
The Greeks may enter, and let in destruction
To the great work of vengeance.

Pho.
Would'st thou have me
Basely retreat, while my Euphrasia trembles
Here on the ridge of peril? She perhaps
May fall unknown, unpity'd, undistinguish'd
Amidst the gen'ral carnage. Shall I leave her
To add that beauty to the purple heap?
No: I will seek her in these walls accurst,
Ev'n in the tyrant's palace; save that life,
My only source of joy, that life, whose loss
Would make all Greece complotter in a murder,
And damn a righteous cause.

Melan.
Yet hear the voice
Of sober age. Should Dionysius' spies
Detect thee here, ruin involves us all;
'Twere best retire, and seek Timoleon's tents;
Tell him, dismay and terror fill the city;
Ev'n now in Syracuse the tyrant's will
Ordains with pomp oblations to the Gods.
His deadly hand still hot with recent blood,
The monster dares approach the sacred altar;
Thy voice may rouse Timoleon to th'assault,
And bid him storm the works.

Pho.
By Heav'n I will;
My breath shall wake his rage; this very night,
When sleep sits heavy on the slumb'ring city,
Then Greece unsheaths her sword, and great revenge
Shall stalk with death and horror o'er the ranks
Of slaughter'd troops, a sacrifice to freedom!
But first let me behold Euphrasia.

Melan.
Hush
Thy pent-up valour; to a secret haunt
I'll guide thy steps; there dwell, and in apt time
I'll bring Euphrasia to thy longing arms.

Pho.
Wilt thou?

Melan.
By Heav'n I will; another act
Of desperate fury might endanger all.
The tyrant's busy guards are posted round;
In silence follow; thou shalt see Euphrasia.

Pho.
Oh! lead me to her; that exalted virtue
With firmer nerve shall bid me grasp the javelin,
Shall bid my sword with more than lightning's swiftness
Blaze in the front of war, and glut its rage
With blow repeated in the tyrant's veins.

[Exeunt.
Scene a Temple, with a Monument in the Middle.
Enter Euphrasia, Erixene, and other Female Attendants.
Euphra.
This way, my virgins, this way bend your steps.
Lo! the sad sepulchre where, hears'd in death,
The pale remains of my dear mother lie.
There, while the victims at yon altar bleed,
And with your pray'rs the vaulted roof resounds,
There let me pay the tribute of a tear,
A weeping pilgrim o'er Eudocia's ashes.

Erix.
Forbear, Euphrasia, to renew your sorrows.

Euphra.
My tears have dried their source; then let me here
Pay this sad visit to the honour'd clay
That moulders in the tomb. These sacred viands
I'll burn an off'ring to a parent's shade,
And sprinkle with this wine the hallow'd mould.
That duty paid, I will return, my virgins.

[She goes into the tomb.
[Exit.
Erix.
Look down, propitious Pow'rs! behold that virtue,
And heal the pangs that desolate her soul.

Enter Philotas.
Philo.
Mourn, mourn, ye virgins; rend your scatter'd garments;
Some dread calamity hangs o'er our heads.
In vain the tyrant would appease with sacrifice
Th'impending wrath of ill-requited Heav'n.
Ill omens hover o'er us: at the altar
The victim dropt, e'er the divining seer
Had gor'd his knife. The brazen statues trembled,
And from the marble, drops of blood distill'd.

Erix.
Now, ye just Gods, if vengeance you prepare,
Now find the guilty head.

Philo.
Amidst the throng
A matron labours with th'inspiring God;
She stares, she raves, and with no mortal sound
Proclaims aloud, “Where Phœbus am I borne?
“I see their glitt'ring spears; I see them charge;
“Bellona wades in blood; that mangled body,
“Deform'd with wounds and welt'ring in its gore,
“I know it well; Oh! close the dreadful scene;
“Relieve me Phœbus, I have seen too much.”

Erix.
Alas! I tremble for Evander's fate;
Avert the omen, Gods, and guard his life.

Enter Euphrasia from the Tomb.
Euphra.
Virgins, I thank you—Oh! more lightly now
My heart expands; the pious act is done,
And I have paid my tribute to a parent.
Ah! wherefore does the tyrant bend this way?

Philo.
He flies the altar; leaves th'unfinish'd rites.
No God there smiles propitious on his cause,
Fate lifts the awful balance; weighs his life,
The lives of numbers, in the trembling scale.

Euphra.
Despair and horror mark his haggard looks,
His wild, disorder'd step—He rushes forth;
Some new alarm demands him!—Ev'n now
He issues at yon portal!—Lo! see there.
The suppliant crowd disperses; wild with fear,
Distraction in each look, the wretched throng
Pours thro' the brazen gates!—Do you retire,
Retire Philotas; let me here remain,
And give the moments of suspended fate
To pious worship and to filial love.

Philo.
Alas! I fear to yield:—awhile I'll leave thee,
And at the temple's entrance wait thy coming.

[Exit.
Euphra.
Now then, Euphrasia, now thou may'st indulge
The purest ecstacy of soul. Come forth,
Thou man of woe, thou man of ev'ry virtue.

Enter Evander, from the Monument.
Evan.
And does the grave thus cast me up again
With a fond father's love to view thee? Thus
To mingle rapture in a daughter's arms?

Euphra.
How fares my father now?

Evan.
Thy aid, Euphrasia,
Has giv'n new life. Thou from this vital stream
Deriv'st thy being; with unheard-of duty
Thou hast repaid it to thy native source.

Euphra.
Sprung from Evander, if a little portion
Of all his goodness dwell within my heart,
Thou wilt not wonder.

Evan.
Joy and wonder rise
In mix'd emotions!—Though departing hence,
After the storms of a tempestuous life,
Tho' I was entering the wish'd-for port,
Where all is peace, all bless, and endless joy,
Yet here contented I can linger still
To view thy goodness, and applaud thy deeds,
Thou author of my life!—Did ever parent
Thus call his child before?—My heart's too full,
My old fond heart runs o'er; it akes with joy.

Euphra.
Alas, too much you over-rate your daughter;
Nature and duty call'd me—Oh! my father,
How didst thou bear thy long, long suff'rings? How
Endure their barb'rous rage?

Evan.
My foes but did
To this old frame, what Nature's hand must do.
In the worst hour of pain, a voice still whisper'd me
“Rouze thee, Evander; self-acquitting conscience
“Declares thee blameless, and the gods behold thee.”
I was but going hence by mere decay
To that futurity which Plato taught,
Where the immortal spirit views the planets
Roll round the mighty year, and wrapt in bliss
Adores th'ideas of th'eternal mind.
Thither, oh! thither was Evander going,
But thou recall'st me; thou!—

Euphra.
Timoleon too
Invites thee back to life.

Evan.
And does he still
Urge on the siege?

Euphra.
His active genius comes
To scourge a guilty race. The Punic fleet
Half lost is swallow'd by the roaring sea.
The shatter'd refuse seek the Lybyian shore,
To bear the news of their defeat to Carthage.

Evan.
These are thy wonders Heaven!—Abroad thy spirit
Moves o'er the deep, and mighty fleets are vanish'd.

Euphra.
Ha!—hark?—what noise is that! It comes this way.
Some busy footstep beats the hallow'd pavement.
Oh! Sir, retire—Ye Pow'rs!—Philotas!—ha!

Enter Philotas.
Philo.
For thee, Euphrasia, Dionysius calls.
Some new suspicion goads him. At yon gate
I stopt Calippus, as with eager haste
He bent this way to seek thee.—Oh! my sovereign,
My king, my injur'd master, will you pardon
The wrongs I've done thee?

(kneels to Evander.)
Evan.
Virtue such as thine,
From the fierce trial of tyrannic pow'r,
Shines forth with added lustre.

Philo.
Oh! forgive
My ardent zeal—there is no time to waste.
You must withdraw—Trust to your faithful friends,
Pass but another day, and Dionysius
Fall from a throne usurp'd.

Evan.
But ere he pays
The forfeit of his crimes, what streams of blood
Shall flow in torrents round! Methinks I might
Prevent this waste of nature—I'll go forth,
And to my people shew their rightful king.

Euphra.
Banish that thought; forbear; the rash attempt
Were fatal to our hopes; oppress'd, dismay'd,
The people look aghast, and wan with fear
None will espouse your cause.

Evan.
Yes all will dare
To act like men;—their king, I gave myself
To a whole people. I made no reserve;
My life was their's; each drop about my heart
Pledg'd to the public cause; devoted to it;
That was my compact; is the subject's less?
If they are all debas'd, and willing slaves,
The young but breathing to grow grey in bondage,
And the old sinking to ignoble graves,
Of such a race no matter who is king.
And yet I will not think it; no! my people
Are brave and gen'rous; I will trust their valour.

[going.
Euphra.
Yet stay; yet be advis'd.

Philo.
As yet, my liege,
No plan is fix'd, and no concerted measure.
The fates are busy: wait the vast event.
Trust to my truth and honour. Witness, Gods,
Here in the temple of Olympian Jove
Philotas swears—

Evan.
Forbear: the man like thee,
Who feels the best emotions of the heart,
Truth, reason, justice, honour's fine excitements,
Acts by those laws, and wants no other sanction.

Euphra.
Again, th'alarm approaches; sure destruction
To thee, to all will follow:—hark! a sound
Comes hollow murmuring thro' the vaulted isle,
It gains upon the ear.—Withdraw, my father;
All's lost if thou art seen.

Philo.
And lo! Calippus
Darts with the light'ning's speed across the isle.

Evan.
Thou at the Senate-house convene my friends;
Melanthon, Dion, and their brave associates,
Will shew that liberty has leaders still.
Anon I'll meet 'em there; my child farewel;
Thou shalt direct me now.

Euphra.
Too cruel fate!
The tomb is all the mansion I can give;
My mother's tomb!

Philo.
You must be brief; th'alarm
Each moment nearer comes. In ev'ry sound
Destruction threatens. Ha! by Heaven this way
Calippus comes—Let me retard his speed.
[Exit.
Euphrasia coming forward.
How my distracted heart throbs wild with fear?
What brings Calippus? Wherefore? Save me Heaven!

Enter Calippus.
Calip.
This lonely musing in these drear abodes
Alarms suspicion: the king knows thy plottings,
Thy rooted hatred to the state and him.
His sov'reign will commands thee to repair
This moment to his presence.

Euphra.
Ha! what means
The tyrant?—I obey (Exit Calippus.)
and, oh! ye Pow'rs
Ye ministers of Heaven, defend my father;
Support his drooping age; and when anon
Avenging justice shakes her crimson steel,
Oh! be the grave at least a place of rest;
That from his covert in the hour of peace
Forth he may come to bless a willing people,
And be your own just image here on earth.