Chapter IV: Act THE THIRD: Scene I

_A Rampart near the Harbour._

_Enter DIONYSIUS._

_Dio._ Base deserters! Curse on their Punic faith! did they once dare To grapple with the Greek? Ere yet the main Was ting'd with blood, they turn'd their ships averse. May storms and tempests follow in their rear, And dash their fleet upon the Lybian shore!

_Enter CALIPPUS._

_Cal._ My liege, Timoleon, where the harbour opens, Has storm'd the forts, and even now his fleet Pursues its course, and steers athwart the bay.

_Dio._ Ruin impends; and yet, if fall it must, I bear a mind to meet it undismay'd, Unconquer'd ev'n by Fate.

_Cal._ Through ev'ry street Despair and terror fly. A panic spreads From man to man, and superstition sees Jove arm'd with thunder, and the gods against us.

_Dio._ With sacred rites their wrath must be appeas'd. Let instant victims at the altar bleed: Let incense roll its fragrant clouds to Heav'n, And pious matrons, and the virgin train, In slow procession to the temple bear The image of their gods. The solemn sacrifice, the virgin throng, Will gain the popular belief, and kindle In the fierce soldiery religious rage. Away, my friends, prepare the sacred rites.

[_Exeunt CALIPPUS, &c._

Philotas, thou draw near: how fares your pris'ner? Has he yet breath'd his last?

_Phil._ Life ebbs apace; To-morrow's sun sees him a breathless corse.

_Dio._ Curse on his ling'ring pangs! Sicilia's crown No more shall deck his brow; and if the sand Still loiter in the glass, thy hand, my friend, May shake it thence.

_Phil._ It shall, dread sir; that task Leave to thy faithful servant.

_Dio._ Oh! Philotas, Thou little know'st the cares, the pangs of empire. The ermin'd pride, the purple that adorns A conqueror's breast, but serves, my friend, to hide A heart that's torn, that's mangled with remorse. Each object round me wakens horrid doubts; The flatt'ring train, the sentinel that guards me, The slave that waits, all give some new alarm, And from the means of safety dangers rise. Ev'n victory itself plants anguish here, And round my laurels the fell serpent twines.

_Phil._ Would Dionysius abdicate his crown, And sue for terms of peace?

_Dio._ Detested thought! No, though ambition teem with countless ills, It still has charms of pow'r to fire the soul. Though horrors multiply around my head, I will oppose them all. The pomp of sacrifice, But now ordain'd, is mockery to Heav'n. 'Tis vain, 'tis fruitless; then let daring guilt Be my inspirer, and consummate all. Where are those Greeks, the captives of my sword, Whose desperate valour rush'd within our walls, Fought near our person, and the pointed lance Aim'd at my breast?

_Phil._ In chains they wait their doom.

_Dio._ Give me to see 'em; bring the slaves before me.

_Phil._ What, ho! Melanthon, this way lead your prisoners.

_Enter MELANTHON, with GREEK OFFICERS and SOLDIERS._

_Dio._ Assassins, and not warriors! do ye come, When the wide range of battle claims your sword, Thus do ye come against a single life To wage the war? Did not our buckler ring With all your darts, in one collected volley, Shower'd on my head? Did not your swords at once Point at my breast, and thirst for regal blood?

_G. Off._ We sought thy life. I am by birth a Greek. An open foe in arms, I meant to slay The foe of human kind. With rival ardour We took the field; one voice, one mind, one heart; All leagu'd, all covenanted: in yon camp Spirits there are who aim, like us, at glory. Whene'er you sally forth, whene'er the Greeks Shall scale your walls, prepare thee to encounter A like assault. By me the youth of Greece Thus notify the war they mean to wage.

_Dio._ Thus, then, I warn them of my great revenge. Whoe'er in battle shall become our pris'ner, In torment meets his doom.

_G. Off._ Then wilt thou see How vile the body to a mind that pants For genuine glory. Twice three hundred Greeks Have sworn like us, to hunt thee through the ranks; Ours the first lot; we've fail'd; on yonder plain Appear in arms, the faithful band will meet thee.

_Dio._ Vile slave, no more. Melanthon, drag 'em hence To die in misery. Impal'd alive, The winds shall parch them on the craggy cliff. Selected from the rest, let one depart A messenger to Greece, to tell the fate Her chosen sons, her first adventurers met.

[_Exit DIONYSIUS._

_Mel._ Unhappy men! how shall my care protect Your forfeit lives? Philotas, thou conduct them To the deep dungeon's gloom. In that recess, 'Midst the wild tumult of eventful war We may ward off the blow. My friends, farewell: That officer will guide your steps.

[_All follow PHILOTAS, except PHOCION._

_Phoc._ Satisfy my doubts; how fares Euphrasia?

_Mel._ Euphrasia lives, and fills the anxious moments With every virtue. Wherefore venture hither? Why with rash valour penetrate our gates?

_Phoc._ Could I refrain? Oh! could I tamely wait Th' event of ling'ring war? With patience count The lazy-pacing hours, while here in Syracuse The tyrant keeps all that my heart holds dear; For her dear sake, all danger sinks before me? For her I burst the barriers of the gate, Where the deep cavern'd rock affords a passage. A hundred chosen Greeks pursu'd my steps, We forc'd an entrance; the devoted guard Fell victims to our rage; but in that moment Down from the walls superior numbers came. The tyrant led them on. We rush'd upon him, If we could reach his heart, to end the war. But Heav'n thought otherwise. Melanthon, say,-- I fear to ask it, lives Evander still?

_Mel._ Alas, he lives imprisoned in the rock. Thou must withdraw thee hence; regain once more Timoleon's camp! alarm his slumb'ring rage; Assail the walls; thou with thy phalanx seek The subterraneous path; that way at night The Greeks may enter, and let in destruction On the astonish'd foe.

_Phoc._ By Heav'n I will; My breath shall wake his rage; this very night When sleep sits heavy on the slumb'ring city, Then Greece unsheaths her sword, and great revenge Shall stalk with death and horror o'er the ranks Of slaughter'd troops a sacrifice to freedom! But first let me behold Euphrasia.

_Mel._ Hush Thy pent-up valour: to a secret haunt I'll guide thy steps; there dwell, and in apt time I'll bring Euphrasia to thy longing arms.

_Phoc._ Oh! lead me to her; that exalted virtue With firmer nerve shall bid me grasp the javelin; Shall bid my sword with more than lightning's swiftness. Blaze in the front of war, and glut its rage With blow repeated in the tyrant's veins. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_A Temple, with a Monument in the Middle._

_Enter EUPHRASIA, ERIXENE, and other Female Attendants._

_Eup._ This way, my virgins, this way bend your steps. Lo! the sad sepulchre where, hears'd in death, The pale remains of my dear mother lie. There, while the victims at yon altar bleed, And with your pray'rs the vaulted roof resounds. There let me pay the tribute of a tear, A weeping pilgrim o'er Eudocia's ashes.

_Erix._ Forbear, Euphrasia, to renew your sorrows.

_Eup._ My tears have dry'd their source; then let me here, Pay this sad visit to the honour'd clay, That moulders in the tomb. These sacred viands I'll burn an offering to a parent's shade, And sprinkle with this wine the hallow'd mould. That duty paid, I will return, my virgins.

[_She goes into the Tomb._

_Erix._ Look down, propitious pow'rs! behold that virtue, And heal the pangs that desolate her soul.

_Enter PHILOTAS._

_Phil._ Mourn, mourn, ye virgins; rend your scatter'd garments: Some dread calamity hangs o'er our heads. In vain the tyrant would appease with sacrifice Th' impending wrath of ill-requited Heav'n. Ill omens hover o'er us: at the altar The victim dropp'd, ere the divining seer Had gor'd his knife. The brazen statues tremble, And from the marble, drops of blood distil.

_Erix._ Now, ye just gods, if vengeance you prepare, Now find the guilty head.

_Enter EUPHRASIA, from the Tomb._

_Eup._ Virgins, I thank you--Oh! more lightly now My heart expands; the pious act is done, And I have paid my tribute to a parent. Ah! wherefore does the tyrant bend his way?

_Phil._ He flies the altar; leaves th' unfinish'd rites. No god there smiles propitious on his cause. Fate lifts the awful balance; weighs his life, The lives of numbers, in the trembling scale.

_Eup._ Despair and horror mark his haggard looks. Do you retire, Retire, Philotas; let me here remain, And give the moments of suspended fate To pious worship and to filial love.

_Phil._ Alas! I fear to yield: awhile I'll leave thee, And at the temple's entrance wait thy coming. [_Exit._

_Eup._ Now, then, Euphrasia, now thou may'st indulge The purest ecstacy of soul. Come forth, Thou man of woe, thou man of every virtue.

_Enter EVANDER, from the Monument._

_Eva._ And does the grave thus cast me up again, With a fond father's love to view thee? Thus To mingle rapture in a daughter's arms?

_Eup._ How fares my father now?

_Eva._ Thy aid, Euphrasia, Has giv'n new life. Thou from this vital stream Deriv'st thy being; with unheard-of duty Thou hast repaid it to thy native source.

_Eup._ Sprung from Evander, if a little portion Of all his goodness dwell within my heart, Thou wilt not wonder.

_Eva._ Joy and wonder rise In mix'd emotions!--Though departing hence, After the storms of a tempestuous life, Tho' I was entering the wish'd-for port, Where all is peace, all bliss, and endless joy, Yet here contented I can linger still To view thy goodness, and applaud thy deeds, Thou author of my life?--Did ever parent Thus call his child before?--my heart's too full, My old fond heart runs o'er; it aches with joy.

_Eup._ Alas! too much you over-rate your daughter; Nature and duty call'd me--Oh! my father, How didst thou bear thy long, long suff'rings? How Endure their barb'rous rage?

_Eva._ My foes but did To this old frame, what Nature's hand must do. In the worst hour of pain, a voice still whisper'd me, "Rouse thee, Evander; self-acquitting conscience "Declares thee blameless, and the gods behold thee." I was but going hence by mere decay, To that futurity which Plato taught. Thither, oh! thither was Evander going, But thou recall'st me; thou!

_Eup._ Timoleon too Invites thee back to life.

_Eva._ And does he still Urge on the siege?

_Eup._ His active genius comes To scourge a guilty race. The Punic fleet, Half lost, is swallow'd by the roaring sea. The shatter'd refuse seek the Lybian shore, To bear the news of their defeat to Carthage.

_Eva._ These are thy wonders, Heaven! Abroad thy spirit Moves o'er the deep, and mighty fleets are vanish'd.

_Eup._ Ha!--hark!--what noise is that! Some busy footstep beats the hallow'd pavement. Oh! sir, retire--Ye pow'rs!--Philotas!--ha!

_Enter PHILOTAS._

_Phil._ For thee, Euphrasia, Dionysius calls. Some new suspicion goads him. At yon gate I stopp'd Calippus, as with eager haste He bent his way to seek thee.--Oh! my sovereign, My King, my injur'd master, will you pardon The wrongs I've done thee? [_Kneels to EVANDER._

_Eva._ Virtue such as thine, From the fierce trial of tyrannic pow'r, Shines forth with added lustre.

_Phil._ Oh! forgive My ardent zeal? there is no time to waste. You must withdraw; trust to your faithful friends. Pass but another day, and Dionysius Falls from a throne usurp'd.

_Eva._ But ere he pays The forfeit of his crimes, what streams of blood Shall flow in torrents round! Methinks I might Prevent this waste of nature--I'll go forth And to my people show their rightful king.

_Eup._ Banish that thought; forbear; the rash attempt Were fatal to our hopes; oppress'd, dismay'd, The people look aghast, and, wan with fear, None dare espouse your cause.

_Eva._ Yes, all will dare To act like men;--their king, I gave myself To a whole people. I made no reserve; My life was theirs; each drop about my heart Pledg'd to the public cause; devoted to it; That was my compact; is the subjects' less? If they are all debas'd, and willing slaves, The young but breathing to grow grey in bondage, And the old sinking to ignoble graves, Of such a race no matter who is king. And yet I will not think it; no! my people Are brave and gen'rous; I will trust their valour.

_Eup._ Yet stay; yet be advis'd.

_Phil._ As yet, my liege, No plan is fix'd, and no concerted measure. The fates are busy: wait the vast event. Trust to my truth and honour. Witness, gods, Here, in the temple of Olympian Jove, Philotas swears----

_Eva._ Forbear: the man like thee, Who feels the best emotions of the heart, Truth, reason, justice, honour's fine excitements, Acts by those laws, and wants no other sanction.

_Eup._ Again th'alarm approaches; sure destruction To thee, to all, will follow:--hark! a sound Comes hollow murm'ring through the vaulted aisle. It gains upon the ear. Withdraw, my father; All's lost, if thou art seen.

_Phil._ And lo! Calippus Darts with the lightning's speed across the aisle.

_Eva._ Thou at the senate house convene my friends. Melanthon, Dion, and their brave associates, Will show, that liberty has leaders still. Anon I'll meet them there: my child, farewell; Thou shalt direct me now. [_Exit PHILOTAS.--EVANDER enters the Tomb. Eup. Coming forward._] How my distracted heart throbs wild with fear! What brings Calippus? wherefore? save me, Heaven!

_Enter CALIPPUS._

_Cal._ This sullen musing in these drear abodes Alarms suspicion: the king knows thy plottings, Thy rooted hatred to the state and him. His sov'reign will commands thee to repair This moment to his presence.

_Eup._ Ha! what means The tyrant?--I obey. [_Exit CALIPPUS._] And, oh! ye pow'rs, Ye ministers of Heaven, defend my father; Support his drooping age; and when anon Avenging justice shakes her crimson steel, Oh! be the grave at least a place of rest; That from his covert, in the hour of peace, Forth he may come to bless a willing people, And be your own just image here on earth. [_Exit._