Horatia. And if Rome conquers, then Horatia dies! Valeria. Why wilt thou form vain images of horror, Industrious to be wretched? Is it, then, And love shall combat in Horatia's cause. His soul's too great to give me such a trial; I should despise the slave who dared survive Didst thou not wish me to the temple?-Come, Valeria. Alas, Horatia, 'tis not to the temple That thou wouldst fly; the shout alone alarms thee. But do not thus anticipate thy fate; war, Which takes a thousand turns, and shifts the scene From bad to good, as fortune smiles or frowns? Stay but an hour perhaps, and thou shalt know The whole at once.-I'll send-I'll fly myself To ease thy doubts, and bring thee news of joy. Horatia. Again, and nearer too-I must attend thee. Valeria. Hark! 'tis thy father's voice; he comes to cheer thee. Enter HORATIUS and VALERIUS. Horatius. [Entering.] News from the camp, my child! Save you, sweet maid! [Seeing VALERIA. Your brother brings the tidings, for, alas! I am no warrior now; my useless age, Far from the paths of honour, loiters here In sluggish inactivity at home. Yet I remember Horatia, You'll forgive us, sir, If with impatience we expect the tidings. Horatius. I had forgot; the thoughts of what I was Engrossed my whole attention.-Pray, young soldier, Relate it for me; you beheld the scene, Val. Gentle lady, The scene was piteous, though its end be peace. Horatia. Peace? O, my fluttering heart! by what kind means? Val. 'Twere tedious, lady, and unnecessary, Had caught each other's eyes, nor dared to lift Then nearer drew, and at the third alarm, Hor. 'Twas so, just so, (Though I was then a child, yet I have heard you Proceed, Valerius, they would hear the event. -And yet, methinks, the Albans-pray go on. Val. Our king Hostilius, from a rising mound, Even to the thickest press, and cried, 'My friends, Horatia. There spoke his country's father! this transcends The flight of earth-born kings, whose low ambi tion But tends to lay the face of nature waste, Val. As he himself could wish, with eager transport. In short, the Roman and the Alban chiefs Horatia. Kind Heaven, I thank thee! Blessed be the friendly grief that touched their souls! Blessed be Hostilius for the generous counsel! Valeria. Now, Horatia, Your idle fears are o'er. Horatia. Yet one remains. Who are the champions? Are they yet elected? Has Rome Val. The Roman chiefs now meet in council, And ask the presence of the sage Horatius. Hor. [After having seemed some time in thought.] Horatia. [In a fright.] My father! Val. Rest satisfied, Sweet lady! 'tis so solemnly agreed to, Hor. And yet 'twere well to end these civil The neighbouring states might take advantage of them. -Would I were young again! How glorious Were death in such a cause!-And yet, who knows Some of my boys may be selected for it—— Perhaps may conquer-Grant me that, kind gods, And close my eyes in transport!-Come, Valerius, I'll but dispatch some necessary orders, ven, That one at least may share the glorious task. [Exit. Val. Rome cannot trust her cause to worthier hands. They bade me greet you, lady.-[To HORATIA. Well, Valeria, This is your home, I find: your lovely friend, And you, I doubt not, have indulged strange fears, And run o'er all the horrid scenes of war? Valeria. Though we are women, brother, we are Romans, Not to be scared with shadows, though not proof 'Gainst all alarms, when real danger threatens. Horatia. [With some hesitation.] My brothers, gentle sir, you said were well. Saw you their noble friends the Curiatii? Val. Yes, lady, I left them jocund in your brothers' tent, Asked him, in jest, if he had aught to send, Horatia. Sir, you'll excuse me-something of importance My father may have business- -Oh, Valeria, Talk to thy brother, know the fatal truth Can you administer the baneful potion, Val. You talk in riddles ! [Exit. Valeria. They're riddles, brother, which your Though you affect surprise. Was Curiatius Val. What could I do? this peace has ruined me; Valeria. Yes, now you must resolve to follow The advice I gave you first, and root this passion Entirely from your heart; for know, she doats, Even to distraction doats on Curiatius; And every fear she felt, while danger threatened, Will now endear him more. Val. Cruel Valeria, You triumph in my pain! Valeria. By Heaven, I do not; I only would extirpate every thought Val. Yet we first Should try the gentler. Valeria. Did I not? Ye powers! Did I not soothe your griefs, indulge your fond ness, While the least prospect of success remained? Like friends, whom envious storms awhile had Intreat you daily to declare your passion, parted, Joying to meet again. Horatia. Sent they no message! Seek out unnumbered opportunities, Val. None, fair one, but such general salutation Was never won by tales of bleeding love: As friends would bring unbid. Horatia. Said Caius nothing? Val. Caius? Horatia. Ay, Caius! did he mention me? Val. 'Twas slightly, if he did, and 'scapes me now O yes, I do remember, when your brother VOL. II. 'Tis by degrees the sly enchanter works, Assuming friendship's name, and fits the soul For soft impressions, ere the faultering tongue, And guilty-blushing cheek, with many a glance Shot inadvertent, tells the secret flame. Valeria. True, these are arts for those that love at leisure; R You had no time for tedious stratagem; me Nay, turn not from me, by my soul I meant not To interrupt their loves.-Yet, should some accident 'Tis not impossible-divide their hearts, I might, perhaps, have hope: therefore till marriage Cuts off all commerce, and confirms me wretched, Be it thy task, my sister, with fond stories, How did this lover talk of his Horatia ? ACT II. SCENE 1.-Continues. Enter HORATIA and VALERIA. Horatia. Alas, how easily do we admit The thing we wish were true! yet sure, Valeria, Valeria. Think, my Horatia, That you're a lover, and have learned the art Has brought him back thus early. Oh, my heart! New warmth revive, and springing life renewed Even on the margin of the grave! Valeria. The time Of combat, is it fixed? Hor. This day, this hour, Perhaps, decides our doom. Valeria. And is it known With whom they must engage? Hor. Not yet, Valeria; But with impatience we expect each moment And soon may they arrive, that, ere we quit ceeds The fate of those she loves, however glorious. Hor. Survive! By Heaven, I could not hope that they should all survive. Enter PUBLIUS HORATIUS. Pub. My father! [Offering to kneel. Hor. Hence ! Kneel not to me-stand off; and let me view At distance, and with reverential awe, The champion of my country!-Oh, my boy! That I should live to this-my soul's too full; Let this and this speak for me. Bless thee, bless thee! [Embracing him. But wherefore art thou absent from the camp? Where are thy brothers? Has the Alban state Determined? Is the time of combat fixed? Pub. Think not, my lord, that filial reverence, However due, had drawn me from the field, Where nobler duty calls; a patriot's soul Can feel no humbler ties, nor knows the voice Of kindred, when his country claims his aid. It was the king's command I should attend you, Else had I staid till wreaths immortal graced My brows, and made thee proud indeed to see Beneath thy roof, and bending for thy blessing, Not thine, Horatius, but the son of Rome! Hor. Oh, virtuous pride!-'tis bliss too exqui site That Hor. [Having talked apart with VALERIA.] 'Tis truly Roman. Here's a maid, Horatia, Laments her brother lost the glorious proof Of dying for his country. Come, my son, Her softness will infect thee; prithee, leave her. Horatia. [Looking first on her father, and then tenderly on her brother.] Not till my soul has poured its wishes for him.— Hear me, dread God of War! protect and save him! [Kneeling. For thee, and thy immortal Rome, he fights! Dash the proud spear from every hostile hand That dare oppose him! may each Alban chief Fly from his presence, or his vengeance feel! And when in triumph he returns to Rome, [Rising. Hail him, ye maids, with grateful songs of praise, And scatter all the blooming spring before him; Cursed be the envious brow that smiles not then, Cursed be the wretch that wears one mark of And softens all the joys of social life. We leave her to her tears.-For you, young soldier, You must prepare for combat. Some few hours To spurn the ties of nature, and forget, In one short hour, whole years of virtuous friendship. Think well on that. Pub. I do, my gracious sovereign; And think, the more I dare subdue affection, Tul. True; but yet consider, Is it an easy task to change affections? And tell me if thy breast be still urmoved? I sit so loosely to the bonds of nature, At life's expence: but here a nobler cause Tul. Now I dare trust thee; go and teach To think like thee, and conquest is your own. [To one of the guards, Hor. Gracious sir, Tul. Then, farewell! When next we meet, 'tis Rome and liberty! [Exit with guards. Hor. Come, let me arm thee for the glorious toil. I have a sword, whose lightning oft has blazed crests, And stained with life-blood many a recking plain. This shalt thou bear; myself will gird it on, And lead thee forth to death or victory. [Going. -And yet, my Publius, shall I own my weakness? Though I detest the cause from whence they spring, I feel thy sister's sorrows like a father. Pub. And may remain so. This sudden shock has but alarmed her virtue, And we have hearts as tender sure as they. |