 | Irene |  |
54
SCENE II.
Demetrius, Aspasia, Cali.Cali.
At length th' unwilling Sun resigns the World
To Silence and to Rest. The Hours of Darkness,
Propitious Hours to Stratagem and Death,
Pursue the last Remains of ling'ring Light.
Demetrius.
Count not these Hours as Parts of vulgar Time,
Think them a sacred Treasure lent by Heav'n,
Which squander'd by Neglect, or Fear, or Folly,
No Pray'r recals, no Diligence redeems;
To-morrow's Dawn shall see the Turkish King
Stretch'd in the Dust, or tow'ring on his Throne;
To-morrow's Dawn shall see the mighty Cali
The sport of Tyranny, or Lord of Nations.
Cali.
Then waste no longer these important Moments
In soft Endearments, and in gentle Murmurs,
Nor lose in Love the Patriot and the Hero.
Demetrius.
'Tis Love combin'd with Guilt alone, that melts
The soften'd Soul to Cowardice and Sloth;
But virtuous Passion prompts the great Resolve,
And fans the slumb'ring Spark of heav'nly Fire.
Retire, my Fair, that Pow'r that smiles on Goodness
Guide all thy Steps, calm ev'ry stormy Thought,
And still thy Bosom with the Voice of Peace.
Aspasia.
Soon may we meet again, secure and free,
To feel no more the Pangs of Separation.
[Exit.
55
Demetrius.
This Night alone is ours—Our mighty Foe,
No longer lost in am'rous Solitude,
Will now remount the slighted Seat of Empire,
And show Irene to the shouting People:
Aspasia left her sighing in his Arms,
And list'ning to the pleasing Tale of Pow'r,
With soften'd Voice she dropp'd the faint Refusal,
Smiling Consent she sat, and blushing Love.
Cali.
Now, Tyrant, with Satiety of Beauty,
Now feast thine Eyes, thine Eyes that ne'er hereafter
Shall dart their am'rous Glances at the Fair,
Or glare on Cali with malignant Beams.
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