University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

An open country watered by the river Araxes: on one side are pastoral cottages, and on the other side the view is terminated by a range of pleasant hills. At the foot of the nearest hill is a rustic grotto, the entrance almost covered with ivy and shrubs. At a distance beyond the river is seen the royal city of Artaxata, with a magnificent bridge leading to it. The Parthian army encamped by the river.
Enter Zenobia and Ægle from one of the cottages.
Zen.
No, gentle Ægle, seek not to attend
Zenobia's steps: I must not now permit thee.
A wretched fugitive, who knows, alas!
Where fate may lead me next? Should I receive thee
To share my dangers, ill must I repay
The goodness of thy heart; enough already
Thy kindness has been shewn: let this suffice.
Twice have I liv'd by thee: thy pity drew me
From the swift eddies of Araxes' tide:
My wounded bosom by thy care was heal'd:
I found a sweet asylum in thy cottage,
And thou to me wert comforter and friend,
Companion and adviser: leaving thee,
My loss is more than thine. Thou must not hence;
In this thou hast no will: thy duty here
Detains thee near an aged father; mine
Commands me to pursue a husband lost:
Our several duties claim us each—Farewell.

Ægl.
But thus alone, without a guide, to trace
These savage woods—Such courage in a woman
Is surely wondrous.

Zen.
Long I've been inur'd
To every trial. From my earliest age
I learn'd to suffer: thrice five years are past
Since, once before, Armenia's rebel sons
Constrain'd my flight; and then, alas! I lost
A dear and infant sister, ravish'd from me;
Or happier, she amidst the tumult perish'd,
While I still live reserv'd for endless woes.

Ægl.
And would'st thou, midst such peril, thus pursue
A cruel husband's steps?

Zen.
More kindly name
A hero fam'd for every royal virtue.

Ægl.
Is jealous fury then a royal virtue?

Zen.
Say, who is perfect? Let us learn to pardon
The faults of others while we view our own.

Ægl.
To slay his wife!—

Zen.
Involuntary crimes
We call not guilt.—Alas! in such a state
My Rhadamistus was no more himself,
But, urg'd by sudden frenzy, rais'd his weapon.
Not Rhadamistus then assail'd Zenobia:
Not love, but fury struck; nor saw he then
The victim of his momentary rage.

Ægl.
O! generous dame! permit me now to seek
For tidings of your spouse, while you remain—

Zen.
No, dearest Ægle, no—it must not be.
My longer tarriance here would risk too far
Zenobia's fame and virtue.

Ægl.
How, Zenobia?

Zen.
Full well I know thou little canst conceive
What mean my words: then hear, and truly say
If fear in me is blame. The youthful leader
Of yonder squadrons, which thou see'st encamp'd,
Is Tiridates, brother to the king
Who sways the Parthian sceptre. Never yet
The Gods have form'd a prince who better claim'd
The love of all: a spirit more exalted,
A form more graceful, or of gentler manners.
I lov'd him, and was lov'd, (without a blush
I may confess a passion since subdued)
He wish'd, he sought my hand: my father gladly
Receiv'd his suit, but Rhadamistus then
With him contended for Zenobia's faith;
And hence the king, my father, urg'd my lover
To seek for succour from his royal brother,
Of arms and warriors: strengthen'd thus against
His rival's force, to seek Armenia's court,
And tie th' expected knot. He parted thence,
And I remain'd. I tremble, while remembrance
Recalls that mournful parting: well my heart
Presag'd in that, alas! our last farewell.
While anxious, restless still, my ardent vows
Would hasten his return, one day my father
Declar'd, (O! death to hear!) he wish'd me now
The wife of Rhadamistus; that a cause
Of high import had chang'd his former purpose;
That my refusal would expose to peril
His peace, his throne, his dignity and life.
What could I do, a subject and a daughter?
I wept, deplor'd my fate, and begg'd to die;
But I obey'd; nor was my hand alone
Given at his will: I gain'd a mightier conquest,
And moulded my affections to his choice:
With honour's ties I fortified my virtue,
And sacrific'd the lover to the wife.

Ægl.
And saw you never Tiridates more?

Zen.
Forbid it all ye powers! This fear alone
Now drives me hence; not that I doubt myself:
No, Ægle, no; I feel Zenobia's soul
By reason measures every thought and deed—
My victory is certain; but the struggle
Is dreadful in extreme: we must not less
Avoid the shew of guilt than guilt itself.
A woman's fame is like the crystal, soil'd
With every touch; or like the feeble reed,
That bends with every blast.

Ægl.
Unhappy prince!
What must he feel at such heart-breaking news?

Zen.
To him 'tis yet unknown. A secret marriage
United Rhadamistus' fate with mine;
And Tiridates to the promis'd nuptials
Return'd unconscious of th' event.

Ægl.
O! Heavens!
To find Armenia rous'd to general tumult;
The throne now vacant and the monarch slain,
And all his hopes destroy'd!—Zenobia too—

Zen.
To find Zenobia in another's arms.

Ægl.
O! cruel destiny!

Zen.
Now say, my friend,
Can I expose my constancy to view
The grief of such a prince; of one so lov'd?
Of one who merits all? Who, when he hears
This heart is made another's—O! farewell.

Ægl.
And will you leave me?

Zen.
Yes, my dearest Ægle,
I fly this place, for danger threatens here;
A thousand thoughts, a thousand kind memorials—

Ægl.
And whom can harmless pity wrong?

Zen.

[Exit.