University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Enter Melanthon and Philotas.
Melan.
Away; no more; pernicious, vile dissembler!

Philo.
Wherefore this frantic rage?

Melan.
Thou can'st not vanish
With thy perfidious arts a crime like this.
I climb'd the rugged cliff; but, oh! thou traitor,
Where is Evander? Thro' each dungeon's gloom
I sought the good old king—the guilt is thine;
May vengeance wait thee for it.

Philo.
Still Melanthon,
Let prudence guide thee.

Melan.
Thou hast plung'd thee down
Far as the lowest depth of hell-born crimes;
Thou hast out-gone all registers of guilt;
Beyond all fable hast thou sinn'd, Philotas.

Philo.
By Heav'n thou wrong'st me.
Did'st thou know, old man—

Mel.
Could not his rev'rend age, could not his virtue,
His woes unnumber'd, soften thee to pity?
Thou hast destroy'd my king.

Philo.
Yet wilt thou hear me?
Your king still lives.

Melan.
Thou, vile deceiver!—Lives!
But where?—Away; no more. I charge thee, leave me.

Philo.
We have remov'd him to a place of safety.

Melan.
Remov'd!—Thou traitor! what dark privacy
Why move him thence? The dark assassin's stab
Has clos'd his days—calm unrelenting villain!
I know it all.

Philo.
By ev'ry Pow'r above
Evander lives; in safety lives. Last night
When in his dark embrace sleep wrapt the world,
Euphrasia came, a spectacle of woe;
Dar'd to approach our guard, and with her tears,
With vehemence of grief, she touch'd my heart.
I gave her father to her.

Melan.
How, Philotas!
If thou do'st not deceive me—

Philo.
No, by Heaven!
By ev'ry Pow'r above—But hark! those notes
Speak Dionysius near—Anon, my friend,
I'll tell thee each particular;—thy king
Mean while is safe—but lo! the tyrant comes;
With guilt like his I must equivocate,
And teach ev'n truth and honour to dissemble.

Enter Dionysius, Calippus, &c.
Dion.
Away each vain alarm; the sun goes down,
Nor yet Timoleon issues from his fleet.
There let him linger on the wave-worn beach;
Here the vain Greek shall find another Troy,
A more than Hector here. Tho' Carthage fly,
Ourself—still Dionysius here remains.
And means the Greek to treat of terms of peace?
By Heav'n, this panting bosom hop'd to meet
His boasted phalanx on the embattled plain.
And doth he now, on peaceful councils bent,
Dispatch his herald?—Let the slave approach.

Enter the Herald.
Dion.
Now speak thy purpose; what doth Greece impart?

Herald.
Timoleon, Sir, whose great renown in arms
Is equall'd only by the softer virtues
Of mild humanity that sway his heart,
Send me his deligate to offer terms,
On which ev'n foes may well accord; on which
The fiercest nature, tho' it spurn at justice,
May sympathize with his.

Dion.
Unfold thy mystery;
Thou shalt be heard.

Herald.
The gen'rous leader sees,
With pity sees, the wild destructive havoc
Of ruthless war; he hath survey'd around
The heaps of slain that cover yonder field,
And, touch'd with gen'rous sense of human woe,
Weeps o'er his victories.

Dion.
Your leader weeps!
Then let the author of those ills thou speak'st of,
Let the ambitious factor of destruction,
Timely retreat, and close the scene of blood.
Why doth affrighted peace behold his standard
Uprear'd in Sicily? and wherefore here
The iron ranks of war, from which the shepherd
Retires appall'd, and leaves the blasted hopes
Of half the year, while closer to her breast
The mother clasps her infant?

Herald.
'Tis not mine
To plead Timoleon's cause; not mine the office
To justify the strong, the righteous motives
That urge him to the war: the only scope
My deputation aims at, is to fix
An interval of peace, a pause of horror,
That they, whose bodies on the naked shore
Lie welt'ring in their blood, from either host
May meet the last sad rites to nature due,
And decent lie in honourable graves.

Dion.
Go tell your leader, his pretext are vain:
Let him, with those that live, embark for Greece,
And leave our peaceful plains; the mangled limbs
Of those he murder'd, from my tender care
Shall meet due obsequies.

Herald.
The hero, Sir,
Wages no war with those, who bravely die.
'Tis for the dead I supplicate; for them
We sue for peace; and to the living too
Timoleon would extend it, but the groans
Of a whole people have unsheath'd his sword.
A single day will pay the funeral rites.
To morrow's sun may see both armies meet
Without hostility, and all in honour;
You to inter the troops, who bravely fell;
We, on our part, to give an humble sod
To those, who gain'd a footing on the isle,
And by their death have conquer'd.

Dion.
Be it so;
I grant thy suit: soon as to-morrow's dawn
Illume the world, the rage of wasting war
In vain shall thirst for blood: but mark my words;
If the next orient sun behold you here,
That hour shall see me terrible in arms
Deluge yon plain, and let destruction loose.
Thou know'st my last resolve, and now farewel.
Some careful officer conduct him forth.
[Exit Herald.
By Heav'n, the Greek hath offer'd to my sword
An easy prey; a sacrifice to glut
My great revenge. Calippus let each soldier
This night resign his wearied limbs to rest,
That ere the dawn, with renovated strength,
On the unguarded, unsuspecting foe,
Disarm'd, and bent on superstitious rites,
From ev'ry quarter we may rush undaunted,
Give the invaders to the deathful steel,
And by one carnage bury all in ruin.
My valiant friends, haste to your several posts,
And let this night a calm unruffled spirit
Lie hush'd in sleep—Away, my friends, disperse.
Philotas, waits Euphrasia as we ordered?

Philo.
She's here at hand.

Dion.
Admit her to our presence.
Rage and despair, a thousand warrings passions,
All rise by turns, and piece-meal rend my heart.
Yet ev'ry means, all measures must be tried,
To sweep the Grecian spoiler from the land,
And six the crown unshaken on my brow.

Enter Euphrasia.
Euphra.
What sudden cause requires Euphrasia's presence?

Dion.
Approach, fair mourner, and dispel thy fears.
Thy grief, thy tender duty to thy father,
Has touch'd me nearly. In his lone retreat
Respect, attendance, ev'ry lenient care
To soothe affliction, and extend his life,
Evander has commanded.

Euphra.
Vile dissembler!
Detested homicide! (Aside.)
—And has thy heart
Felt for the wretched?

Dion.
Urgencies of state
Abridg'd his liberty; but to his person
All honour hath been paid.

Euphra.
The righteous Gods
Have mark'd thy ways, and will in time repay
Just retribution.

Dion.
If to see your father,
If here to meet him in a fond embrace,
Will calm thy breast, and dry those beauteous tears,
A moment more shall bring him to your presence.

Euphra.
Ha! lead him hither! Sir, to move him now,
Aged, infirm, worn out with toil and years—
No, let us seek him rather—If soft pity
Has touch'd your heart, oh! send me, send me to him.

Dion.
Controul this wild alarm; with prudent care
Philotas shall conduct him; here I grant
The tender interview.

Euphra.
Disastrous fate;
Ruin impends!—This will discover all;
I'll perish first; provoke his utmost rage.
(Aside.)
Tho' much I languish to behold my father,
Yet now it were not fit—approaching night—
At the first dawn of day—

Dion.
This night, this very hour,
You both must meet; the time forbids delay.
Together you may serve the state and me.
Thou see'st the havock of wide wasting war;
And more, full well you know, are still to bleed.
Thou may'st prevent their fate.

Euphra.
Oh! give the means,
And I will bless thee for it.

Dion.
From a Greek,
Torments have wrung the truth. Thy husband, Phocion—

Euphra.
Oh! say, speak of my Phocion.

Dion.
He; 'tis he
Hath kindled up this war; with treacherous arts
Inflam'd the states of Greece, and now the traitor
Comes with a foreign aid to wrest my crown.

Euphra.
And does my Phocion share Timoleon's glory!

Dion.
With him invests our walls, and bids rebellion
Erect her standard here.

Euphra.
Oh! bless him Gods!
Where'er my hero treads the paths of war,
List on his side; against the hostile javelin
Uprear his mighty buckler; to his sword
Lend the fierce whirlwind's rage, that he may come
With wreaths of triumph, and with conquest crown'd,
And his Euphrasia spring with rapture to him,
Melt in his arms, and a whole nation's voice
Applaud my hero with a love like mine!

Dion.
Ungrateful fair! Has not our sovereign will
On thy descendant's fix'd Sicilia's crown?
Have I not vow'd protection to your boy?

Euphra.
From thee the crown! From thee! Euphrasia's children
Shall on a nobler basis found their rights,
On their own virtue, and a people's choice.

Dion.
Misguided woman!

Euphra.
Ask of thee protection!
The father's valour shall protect his boy.

Dion.
Rush not on sure destruction; ere too late
Accept our proffer'd grace. The terms are these;
Instant send forth a message to your husband;
Bid him draw off his Greeks; unmoor his fleet,
And measure back his way. Full well he knows
You and your father are my hostages;
And for his treason both may answer.

Euphra.
Think'st thou then
So meanly of my Phocion?—Dost thou deem him
Poorly wound up to a mere fit of valour,
To melt away in a weak woman's tear?
Oh! thou dost little know him; know'st but little
Of his exalted soul. With gen'rous ardour
Still will he urge the great, the glorious plan,
And gain the ever honour'd bright reward,
Which fame intwines around the patriot's brow,
And bids for ever flourish on his tomb,
For nations free'd and tyrants laid in dust.

Dion.
By Heav'n, this night Evander breathes his last.

Euphra.
Better for him to sink at once to rest,
Than linger thus beneath the gripe of famine,
In a vile dungeon scoop'd with barb'rous skill
Deep in the flinty rock; a monument
Of that fell malice, and that black suspicion
That mark'd your father's reign; a dungeon drear
Prepar'd for innocence!—Vice liv'd secure,
It flourish'd, triumph'd, grateful to his heart;
'Twas virtue only could give umbrage; then,
In that black period, to be great and good
Was a state-crime; the pow'rs of genius then
Were a constructive treason,

Dion.
Ha! beware,
Nor with vile calumny provoke my rage.

Euphra.
Whate'er was laudable, whate'er was worthy,
Sunk under foul oppression: freeborn men
Were torn in private from their household gods,
Shut from the light of Heaven in cavern'd cells,
Chain'd to the grunsel edge, and left to pine
In bitterness of soul; while in the vaulted roof
The tyrant sat, and through a secret channel
Collected ev'ry sound; heard each complaint
Of martyr'd virtue; kept a register
Of sighs and groans by cruelty extorted;
Noted the honest language of the heart;
Then on the victim's wreak'd his murd'rous rage,
For yielding to the feelings of their nature.

Dion.
Obdurate woman! obstinate in ill!
Here ends all parley. Now your father's doom
Is fix'd; irrevocably fix'd; this night
Thou shalt behold him, while inventive cruelty
Pursues his wearied life through every nerve.
I scorn all dull delay. This very night
Shall sate my great revenge.

[Exit.
Euphra.
This night perhaps
Shall whelm thee down, no more to blast creation.
My father, who inhabit'st with the dead,
Now let me seek thee in the lonely tomb,
And tremble there with anxious hope and fear.

[Exit.
Scene the Inside of the Temple.
Enter Phocion and Melanthon.
Pho.
Each step I move, a grateful terror shakes
My frame to dissolution.

Melan.
Summon all
Thy wonted firmness; in that dreary vault
A living king is number'd with the dead.
I'll take my post, near where the pillar'd isle
Supports the central dome, that no alarm
Surprize you in the pious act.

Pho.
If here
They both are found; if in Evander's arms
Euphrasia meets my search, the fates atone
For all my suff'rings, all afflictions past.
Yes I will seek them—ha!—the gaping tomb
Invites my steps—now be propitious Heaven!

[He enters the Tomb.
Enter Euphrasia.
All hail ye caves of horror!—In this gloom
Divine content can dwell, the heartfelt tear,
Which, as it falls, the father's trembling hand
Will catch, and wipe the sorrows from my eye.
Thou Pow'r supreme! whose all-prevading mind
Guides this great frame of things; who now behold'st me,
Who in that cave of death art full as perfect
As in the gorgeous palace, now, while night
Broods o'er the world, I'll to thy sacred shrine,
And supplicate thy mercies to my father.
Who's there?—Evander?—Answer—quickly say—

Enter Phocion from the Tomb.
Pho.
What voice is that?—Melanthon!—

Euphra.
Ha! those sounds!—
Speak of Evander; tell me that he lives,
Or lost Euphrasia dies.

Pho.
Heart-swelling transport!
Art thou Euphrasia?—'Tis thy Phocion, love;
Thy husband comes.—

Euphra.
Support me; reach thy hand—

Pho.
Once more I clasp her in this fond embrace!

Euphra.
What miracle has brought thee to me?

Pho.
Love
Urg'd me on, and guided all my ways.

Euphra.
Oh! thou dear wanderer! But wherefore here,
Why in this place of woe?—My tender little one,
Say is he safe?—Oh! satisfy a mother;
Speak of my child, or I go wild at once;
Tell me his fate, and tell me all thy own.

Pho.
Your boy is safe, Euphrasia; lives to reign
In Sicily; Timoleon's guardian care
Protects him in his camp; dispel thy fears;
The Gods once more will give him to thy arms.

Euphra.
My father lives sepulchred ere this time.
Here in Eudocia's tomb; let me conduct thee—

Pho.
I came this moment thence—

Euphra.
And saw Evander?

Pho.
Alas! I found him not.

Euphra.
Not found him there!
Have there fell murderers—Oh!

[faints away.
Pho.
I've been too rash; revive, my love, revive;
Thy Phocion calls; the Gods will guard Evander,
And save him to reward thy matchless virtue.

Enter Evander and Melanthon.
Evan.
Lead me, Melanthon, guide my aged steps;
Where is he? Let me see him.

Pho.
My Euphrasia;
Thy father lives;—thou venerable man!
Behold!—I cannot fly to thy embrace.

Euphra.
These agonies must end me—Ah! my father!
Again I have him; gracious Pow'rs! again
I clasp his hand, and bathe it with my tears.

Evan.
Euphrasia! Phocion too! Yes, both are here;
Oh! let me thus, thus strain you to my heart.

Pho.
Protected by a daughter's tender care,
By my Euphrasia sav'd! That sweet reflection
Exalts the bliss to rapture.

Euphra.
Why my father,
Why thus adventure forth?—The strong alarm
O'erwhelm'd my spirits.

Evan.
I went forth, my child,
When all was dark, and awful silence round,
To throw me prostrate at the altar's foot,
To crave the care of Heaven for thee and thine.
Melanthon there—

Enter Philotas.
Euphra.
Philotas!—ha!—what means—

Philo.
Inevitable ruin hovers o'er you:
The tyrant's fury mounts into a blaze;
Unsated yet with blood, he calls aloud
For thee, Evander; thee his rage hath order'd
This moment to his presence.

Evan.
Lead me to him:
His presence hath no terror for Evander.

Euphra.
Horror!—It must not be.

Philo.
No; never, never:
I'll perish rather—But the time demands
Our utmost vigour; with the lightning's speed
Decisive, rapid.—With the scorpion stings
Of conscience lash'd, despair and horror seize him,
And guilt but serves to goad his tortur'd mind
To blacker crimes. His policy has granted
A day's suspence from arms; yet even now
His troops prepare, in the dead midnight hour,
With base surprise, to storm Timoleon's camp.

Evan.
And doth he grant a false insidious truce,
To turn the hour of peace to blood and horror?

Euphra.
I know the monster well: when specious seeming
Becalms his looks, the rankling heart within
Teems with destruction. Like our own mount Ætna,
When the deep snows invest his hoary head,
And a whole winter gathers on his brow,
Looking tranquility; ev'n then beneath
The fuel'd entrails summon all their rage,
Till the affrighted shepherd round him sees
The sudden ruin, the vulcano's burst,
Mountains hurl'd up in air, and molten rocks,
And all the land with desolation cover'd.

Melan.
Now Phocion, now, on thee our hope depends:
Fly to Timoleon—I can grant a passport—
Rouze him to vengeance; on the tyrant turn
His own insidious arts, or all is lost.

Pho.
Evander thou, and thou, my best Euphrasia,
Both shall attend my flight.

Melan.
They must remain;
Th'attempt would hazard all.

Euphra.
Together here
We will remain, safe in the cave of death;
And wait our freedom from thy conqu'ring arm.

Evan.
Oh! Would the Gods roll back the stream of time
And give this arm the sinew that it boasted
At Tauromenium, when its force resistless
Mow'd down the ranks of war; I then might guide
The battle's rage, and, ere Evander die,
Add still another laurel to my brow.

Euphra.
Enough of laurell'd victory your sword
Hath reap'd in earlier days.

Evan.
And shall my sword,
When the great cause of liberty invites,
Remain inactive, unperforming quite?
Youth, second youth rekindles in my veins:
Tho' worn with age, this arm will know it's office;
Will shew that victory has not forgot
Acquaintance with this hand.—And yet—O shame!
It will not be: the momentary blaze
Sinks and expires.—I have surviv'd it all;
Surviv'd my reign, my people, and myself.

Euphra.
Fly, Phocion, fly; Melanthon will conduct thee.

Melan.
And when th'assault begins, my faithful cohorts
Shall form their ranks around this sacred dome.

Pho.
And my poor captive friends, my brave companions
Taken in battle, wilt thou guard their lives?

Melan.
Trust to my care: no danger shall assail them.

Pho.
By Heav'n, the glorious expectation swells
Thus panting bosom!—Yes, Euphrasia, yes;
Awhile I leave you to the care of Heaven—
Fell Dionysius tremble; ere the dawn
Timoleon thunders at your gates—The rage,
The pent-up rage of twenty thousand Greeks,
Shall burst at once; and the tumultuous roar
Alarm th'astonish'd world. The brazen gates
Asunder shall be rent; the tow'rs, the ramparts,
Shall yield to Grecian valour; death and rage
Thro' the wide city's round shall wade in gore,
And guilty men awake to gasp their last.
Melanthon, come.

Evan.
Yet, ere thou go'st, young man,
Attend my words: tho' guilt may oft provoke,
As now it does, just vengeance on it's head,
In mercy punish it. The rage of slaughter
Can add no trophy to the victor's triumph:
Bid him not shed unnecessary blood.
Conquest is proud, inexorable, fierce;
It is humanity ennobles all:
So thinks Evander, and so tell Timoleon.

Pho.
Farewel; the midnight hour shall give you freedom.

[Exit with Melanthon and Philotas.
Euphra.
Ye guardian Deities, watch all his ways.

Evan.
Come, my Euphrasia, in this interval
Together we will seek the sacred altar,
And thank the God, whose presence fills the dome,
For the best gift his bounty could bestow,
The virtue he has giv'n thee; there we'll pour
Our hearts in praise, in tears of adoration,
For all the wond'rous goodness lavish'd on us.