 | Sylla |  |
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SCENE VIII.
FAUSTUS, SYLLA, ROSCIUS.SYLLA,
to ROSCIUS who enters.
Well, and what say they? they exclaim no doubt
Against my tyranny, are angry, perhaps?
ROSCIUS.
The terror of thy name congeals their souls,
But they fear death already less than scorn;
The people hearing of thy threats, at daybreak
In mournful silence took their usual station,
Moved to and fro tumultuously, and with
An eager eye turned t'wards the palace, sought
To read thy next stern order;—'mong the names
Inscribed upon the bloody list, is one
Second to none in yon vast crowd's affections.
The name of Claudius, youthful hero, flies
From mouth to mouth, 'mid countless groans; they vaunt
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His proud ancestral birthright; it doth seem
As if all hearts, pierced through by woe, had lost
In him those hopes of fortune they had cherished.
Nor was it long before they stood around
The house of Claudius, moved with pity for
The fate of him they mourned—their voice that now
Strikes on the air as they call out for Sylla,
Maddens in anger too 'gainst Catiline.
Thither I hasten'd, and endeavoured, though
In vain, to calm the terrors of Valeria,
Who, all in tears and ignorant of the fate
Of one so dear, esteem'd his absence death.
Loud cries are heard, and as the mob approach,
Valeria rushing to the door, with hair
Dishevell'd, on the threshold kneeling, cries,
“In Heaven's name, Romans, give me back my husband!”
Hurried along by these heart-rending words,
They place her on a brazen pedestal,
And upon that tribunal, as she speaks,
All eyes are turned, all hearts alike are fixed.
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Of her bold eloquence, nor wound thine ear!
But the respect—
SYLLA.
Proceed—she did her duty.
I've told thee, Roscius, I would know the whole.
ROSCIUS.
“No longer, citizens,” she cried, (and as
She spoke, the animation that her words
Threw o'er her, render'd her more beautiful,)
“Has Sylla punishments the which ye know not;—
T'await his fury here again behold us.
And think'st thou, Rome, that he will spare the blood
That yet remains unspilt? I tell thee, No—
Prænestes' destiny will soon be thine.
What weigh thy hopes against his wishes? Force
Is our sole right, to die our only duty.
Our fears are banished by excess of terror,
Voiceless the heart, and tearless is the eye;
Despair itself no longer sways our feelings,
And the tomb shuts in silence on the dead.
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Yet Sylla, tearless, tranquil views the picture,
And counts, with unpaled cheek, the wretched victims
His homicidal nod has chilled in death;
Our past foretels our future destiny;—
Come, let us count how many dead have pass'd
The Colline gate—there in the sacred porch
Where Vesta's altars burn, let's haste and see
Another Scævola expire;—ah! Romans,
'Tis for yourselves my voice implores you; Sylla,
Reeling in blood, would wish to shed yet more.
By woes united, as alike by danger,
Who would remain a stranger to my wrongs?
Who is there 'mongst you, in this day of shame
And misery, but trembles for a son's,
Or weeps a father's fate? Already have
Two women changed their country's destiny,
And sheathed the dagger in their breasts to do it.
Oh! would ye at an equal sacrifice
Give me but hope, my blood like theirs should dye
The steel of Freedom;”—with these words she rushes
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Instant the people swear, with deaf'ning shouts,
To save the proscripts...add to which the Gauls
With terror in their rear are just in sight,
Their wild bands headed too by Catiline.
Far from the threat'ning storm the people fly,
And their late noisy waves subside in silence!
SYLLA.
Such is their boldness, Roscius, mark it well,
When a few Gauls can freeze their boasted courage!
FAUSTUS.
Yet surely the despair of Caius' sister
Must not be deem'd as idle—should the mob
Who love her e'en as they lament her husband...
SYLLA.
Unheedful of the ills he ne'er may know,
'Tis time for them to fear, when he's in danger.
For ever ready to oppose the law
Of the Dictator, as for ever ready
T'obey the lictor's nod.
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The Romans have
Avenged Virginia's and Lucretia's cause.
SYLLA.
Where are these Romans?
FAUSTUS.
Heavens! it is Valeria!—
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