 | Themistocles |  |
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SCENE III.
Enter Xerxes.Xer.
Themistocles.
Them.
Great king.
Xer.
I still am bound
To thee in grateful ties, and owe thee much.
I promis'd recompense to him who brought
Themistocles to Persia. I have now
My utmost wish, and with impatience come
To make my promise good.
Them.
So many gifts
Already lavish'd—shall not these suffice?
Xer.
No, every recompense too little seems
For such a friend obtain'd, as swells my heart
With generous pride.
Them.
And means—
Xer.
I mean to amend
The injuries of Fortune, and to raise thee
In her despite. Miuntes, Lampsacus,
The city, wash'd by fair Meander's stream,
Are from this instant thine: hereafter Xerxes
Will give more shining proofs to mark the love,
With which he justly honours thy deserts.
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O! sir, be moderate; use not thus your triumph,
Nor call my blushes forth: what have I done
That thus from you may claim—
Xer.
What hast thou done?
And dost thou think it little to confide
In Xerxes' generous faith? To intrust with him
A life like thine? To open him a field,
Will make his name immortal? To restore
To Persia's kingdom in Themistocles,
In him alone, whate'er before was lost.
Them.
Reflect, from me, what ruin, blood—
Xer.
The glory
To honour thus the virtue of my foe,
Compensates all: the first was Fortune's work,
And Fortune's blame—this glory is my own.
Them.
O! generous sentiments! that well befit
The substitute of Jove. Oh! happy land,
To such a king subjected.
Xer.
Hear me further.
I mean to follow now the grateful contest
Of mutual friendship. To my power thy life
Thou hast intrusted; to thy valour I
Intrust my power. Thou shalt be sovereign leader
Of Persia's armies: come, and take before
The assembled troops, the ensign of command,
Thou first shalt hence to punish the presumption
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May hope to achieve: with thee, Themistocles,
I trust to triumph o'er the world in arms.
Them.
And will my generous king so far—
Xer.
Away,
Prepare for other triumphs. Let thy deeds
Speak what thou mean'st to say.
Them.
Benignant Powers!
Preserve for me a prince so like yourselves,
O! let me still remember all his goodness,
For Xerxes triumph or for Xerxes die.
Preserve for me a prince so like yourselves,
O! let me still remember all his goodness,
For Xerxes triumph or for Xerxes die.
I seem to hear, with loud alarms,
The trumpet's wakening breath,
That calls me forth for thee in arms
To encounter fields of death.
The trumpet's wakening breath,
That calls me forth for thee in arms
To encounter fields of death.
Undaunted let me meet my fate,
And view, with fearless eye,
My tomb prepar'd, but ne'er ingrate
To thee, my king, I'll die.
And view, with fearless eye,
My tomb prepar'd, but ne'er ingrate
To thee, my king, I'll die.
[Exit.
| Themistocles | |