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

Ine, 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 you 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.
[Erit Dionysius.
Mel. Unhappy men how shall my care protect
Your forfeit lives 2 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”
Mcl. Euphrasia lives, and fills the anxious mo-
Iments
With every virtue. Wherefore venture thither?
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 imprison'd 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 swift

Iness

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 o 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. Eric. Forbear, Euphrasia, to renew your Sorrows. Eup. My tears have dried 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.
Eric. Look down, propitious powrs! behold that
virtue,
And heal the pangs that desolate her soul.

Enter PHILoTAs.

Phil. Mourn, mourn, ye virgins; rend your scat-
ter'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.

Eric. Now, yejust 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 aparent.[Ereunt Virgins.
Ah! whither 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 my coming. [Exit. Eup. Now, then, Euphrasia, now thou mayst indulge The purest ecstasy 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 2

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 did'st thou bear thy long, long suff'rings How
Endure their barb'rous rage 2

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

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