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THE

GRECIAN DAUGHTER.

ACT THE FIRST.

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SCENE I.

Enter MELANTHON and PHILOTAS.

Mel. Yet, yet a moment; hear, Philotas, hear me!
Phil. No more; it must not be.

Mel. Obdurate man;

Thus wilt thou spurn me, when a king distress'd,
A good, a virtuous, venerable king,

The father of his people, from a throne
Which long with ev'ry virtue he adorn'd,
Torn by a ruffian, by a tyrant's hand,
Groans in captivity? In his own palace
Lives a sequester'd prisoner? Oh! Philotas,
If thou hast not renounc'd humanity,
Let me behold my sovereign; once again
Admit me to his presence; let me see
My royal master.

Phil. Urge thy suit no further;

Thy words are fruitless; Dionysius' orders
Forbid access; he is our sov'reign now.

'Tis his to give the law, mine to obey.

Mel. Thou canst not mean it: his to give the law!
Detested spoiler !-his! a vile usurper !
Have we forgot the elder Dionysius,
Surnam'd the Tyrant? To Sicilia's throne
The monster waded through whole seas of blood.
Sore groan'd the land beneath his iron rod;
Till rous'd at length Evander came from Greece,
Like Freedom's Genius came, and sent the tyrant
Stript of the crown, and to his humble rank
Once more reduc'd, to roam, for vile subsistence,
A wandering sophist through the realms of Greece.
Phil. Whate'er his right, to him in Syracuse
All bend the knee; his the supreme dominion,
And death and torment wait his sovereign nod.
Mel. But soon that pow'r shall cease! behold his
walls

Now close encircled by the Grecian bands;
Timoleon leads them on; indignant Corinth
Sends her avenger forth, array'd in terror,
To hurl ambition from a throne usurp❜d,
And bid all Sicily resume her rights.

Phil. Thou wert a statesman once, Melanthon ; now,

Grown dim with age, thy eye pervades no more
The deep-laid schemes which Dionysius plans.
Know then, a fleet from Carthage even now
Stems the rough billow; and, ere yonder sun,
That now declining seeks the western wave,
Shall to the shades of night resign the world,
Thou'lt see the Punic sails in yonder bay,
Whose waters wash the walls of Syracuse.
Mel. Art thou a stranger to Timoleon's name?
Intent to plan, and circumspect to see
All possible events, he rushes on

Resistless in his course! Your boasted master
Scarce stands at bay; each hour the strong blockade
Hems him in closer, and, ere long, thou❜lt view
Oppression's iron rod to fragments shiver'd!
The good Evander then-
Phil. Alas, Evander

Will ne'er behold the golden time you look for!
Mel. How! not behold it! Say, Philotas, speak !
Has the fell tyrant,-have his felon murderers-
Phil. As yet, my friend, Evander lives.

Mel. And yet

Thy dark half-hinted purpose-lead me to him;
If thou hast murder'd him

Phil. By Heav'n, he lives!

Mel. Then bless me with one tender interview. Thrice has the sun gone down since last these eyes Have seen the good old king; say, why is this? Wherefore debarr'd his presence? Thee, Philotas, The troops obey that guard the royal pris'ner; Each avenue to thee is open; thou

Canst grant admittance; let me, let me see him!
Phil. Entreat no more; the soul of Dionysius
Is ever wakeful; rent with all the pangs
That wait on conscious guilt.

Mel. But when dun night

Phil. Alas! it cannot be: but mark my words: Let Greece urge on her general assault.

Despatch some friend, who may o'erleap the walls,
And tell Timoleon, the good old Evander
Has liv'd three days, by Dionysius' order,
Lock'd up from ev'ry sustenance of nature,
And life, now wearied out, almost expires.
Mel. If any spark of virtue dwell within thee,
Lead me, Philotas, lead me to his prison!

Phil. The tyrant's jealous care hath mov'd him thence.

Mel. Ha! mov'd him, say'st thou ?

Phil. At the midnight hour,

Silent convey'd him up the steep ascent,
To where the elder Dionysius form'd,
On the sharp summit of the pointed rock,
Which overhangs the deep, a dungeon drear:
Cell within cell, a labyrinth of horror,

Deep cavern'd in the cliff, where many a wretch,
Unseen by mortal eye, has groan'd in anguish,
And died obscure, unpitied, and unknown.

Mel. Clandestine murderer! Yes, there's the scene Of horrid massacre. Full oft I've walk'd

When all things lay in sleep and darkness hush'd.
Yes, oft I've walk'd the lonely sullen beach,
And heard the mournful sound of many a corse
Plung'd from the rock into the wave beneath,
That murmurs on the shore. And means he thus
To end a monarch's life? Oh! grant my pray'r!
My timely succour may protract his days;
The guard is yours-

Phil. Forbear; thou plead'st in vain;
And though I feel soft pity throbbing here;
Though each emotion prompts the gen'rous deed,
I must not yield; it were assur'd destruction.
Farewell, despatch a message to the Greeks;
I'll to my station; now thou know'st the worst.
[Exit.
Mel. Oh, lost Evander! Lost Euphrasia too!
How will her gentle nature bear the shock
Of a dear father, thus, in ling'ring pangs,
A prey to famine, like the veriest wretch
Whom the hard hand of misery hath grip'd!
In vain she'll rave, with impotence of sorrow;
Perhaps, provoke her fate: Greece arms in vain;
All's lost! Evander dies!

Enter CALLIPUS.

Cal. Where is the king?

Our troops, that sallied to attack the foe,

Retire disordered; to the eastern gate
The Greeks pursue: Timoleon rides in blood!
Arm, arm, and meet their fury!

Mel. To the citadel

Direct thy footsteps; Dionysius there
Marshals a chosen band.

Cal. Do thou call forth

Thy hardy veterans; haste, or all is lost!

[Exit.

[Warlike Music.

Mel. Now, ye just gods, now look propitious

down;

Now give the Grecian sabre tenfold edge,

And save a virtuous king?

Enter EUPHRASIA.

Eup. War on, ye heroes,

[Warlike Music.

Ye great assertors of a monarch's cause!
Let the wild tempest rage. Melanthon, ha!
Didst thou not hear the vast tremendous roar?
Down tumbling from its base the eastern tow'r,
Burst on the tyrant's ranks, and on the plain
Lies an extended ruin.

Mel. Still new horrors

Increase each hour, and gather round our heads.

Eup. The glorious tumult lifts my tow'ring soul! Once more, Melanthon, once again, my father Shall mount Sicilia's throne.

Mel. Alas! that hour

Would come with joy to ev'ry honest heart,
Would shed divinest blessings from its wing!
But no such hour in all the round of time,
I fear, the fates averse will e'er lead on.

Eup. And still, Melanthon, still does pale despair Depress thy spirit? Lo! Timoleon comes

Arm'd with the pow'r of Greece; the brave, the just, God-like Timoleon! ardent to redress,

He guides the war, and gains upon his prey.

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