 | Hector |  |
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SCENE II.
A Chamber.Hector, Paris, and Helen.
Hec.
Infatuated man! by woman's smiles
Spell-bound to thy destruction. Hadst thou died
At thy ill-starr'd nativity, or death
Prohibited thy fatal nuptial rites,
What shame hadst thou escaped, and Troy what woe!
Couldst thou along the proudly swelling waves,
Thy breast more haughty, in thy stately ships
Courageous seek the beauteous Spartan bride,
And bear her willing from her lord away;
Yet basely here in slack seclusion lurk,
Shrunk from thy country's foes, friends but for thee?
Disastrous recreant! thy father's shame!
Is this a time for such soft dalliance?
For thee, for thine, the sons of Ilion fall,
Till but the high-heap'd corses of the dead
Alone protect the town. For thee, for thine,
Around the war a narrowing circle burns,
The soldiers perish, and the widows cry!
Closer and closer nears the wasteful fire,
And thou sitt'st safe regardless. Up and forth,
Or here with Troy be sheeted in the flames.
Par.
These just reproaches, Hector, I deserve—
O who can boast thy firmly temper'd mind,
Prepared for every accident of fate,
Like the keen hatchet in the shipwright's hand,
Still edged for use, and still untired by toil.
Now shrinking from th'indignant public eye,
I sat lamenting my unhappy doom;
But roused by thee, my honor wakes again,
And beauteous Helen urges me to arm.
Conquest to-day may yet redeem my fame—
To dare is man's, the victory is Heav'n's!
Stay patient here, till I my armour brace,
Or go, and emulous, I'll soon be there.
[Exit Paris.
Helen.
O brother of a sister, self-abhorred,
And by all hearts for ills that I have caus'd!
But here some short respite from labor take:
Alas, no breast endures such pain as thine!
For Paris' guilt, and worthless Helen's crime,
337
Present distress and infamy to come,
The direful themes of everlasting song.
Hect.
I must not rest, fair Helen; other friends
Claim sad endearments ere I seek the field.
But urge the loiterer, let him not delay
To join me ere again I quit the town.
[Exit Hector.
Hel.
Oh! that the winds had seiz'd me at my birth,
Borne me to wilds, the famish'd eagles' prey!
Or, plung'd me deep in death beneath the waves,
Before the vengeance of this direful war
Had thus devouring rag'd around for me.
[Exit.
| Hector | |