What is decreed by heaven, we cannot alter.

Lov. And heaven here gives a precedent to teach

I had a reputation, but 'twas lost
In my loose course; and until I redeem it
Some noble way, I am but half made up.
It is a time of action: if your lordship
Will please to confer a company upon me
In your command, I doubt not, in my service
To my king and country, but I shall do something
That may make me right again.
Lov. Your suit is granted,
And you lov'd for the motion.
Well. Nothing, then,

(To the Audience.)

Now wants but your allowance; and in that
Our all is comprehended; which, if you
Grant willingly, as a fair favour due,
To the poet's, and our labours, as you may,
(For we despair not, gentlemen, of the play :)
You may expect, the grace you shew to-night,
Will teach us how to act, our poets how to write.

[Exeunt.

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,
Stripp'd of the crown, and to bis humble rank
Once more reduc'd to roam, for vile subsistence,
A wand'ring sophist through the realms of Greece.
Phil. What'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 bids 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

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,

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 protect 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 Who 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!

Ye great asserters 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.

Euph. The glorious tumult lifts my towering soul. Once more, Melanthon, once again, my father Shall mount Sicilia's throne.

Mel. Alas! that hour

Would come with joy to every honest heart;
But no such hour in all the round of time,

I fear, the fates averse will e'er lead on.

Euph. And still, Melanthon, still does pale despair

Depress thy spirit? Lo! Timoleon comes,
Armed 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.

A little interval shall set the victor

Fled with my child, and from his mother's arms
Bore my sweet little one. Full well thou knowest
The pangs I suffer'd in that trying moment.
Did I not weep? Did I not rave and shriek,
And by the roots tear my dishevell'd hair?
Did I not follow to the sea-beat shore,
Resolv'd with him, and with my blooming boy,
To trust the winds and waves?

Mel. The pious act, whate'er the fate, intend,
Shall merit heart-felt praise.

Euph. Yes, Phocion, go,

Go with my child, torn from this matron breast, This breast that still should yield its nurture to him,

Fly with my infant to some happier shore!

If he be safe, Euphrasia dies content.

Till that sad close of all, the task be mine

To tend a father with delighted care;

To smooth the pillow of declining age;
See him sink gradual into mere decay;
On the last verge of life watch every look;
Explore each fond unutterable wish,

Catch his last breath, and close his eyes in peace.
Mel. I would not add to thy afflictions; yet
My heart misgives; Evander's fatal period-
Euph. Still is far off; the gods have sent relief,
And once again I shall behold him king.

Mel. Alas! those glittering hopes but lend a ray
To gild the clouds, that hover o'er your head.
Soon to rain sorrow down, and plunge you deeper
In black despair.

Euph. The spirit-stirring virtue

That glows within me, ne'er shall know despair.
No, I will trust the gods. Desponding man!
Hast thou not heard with what resistless ardour
Timoleon drives the tumult of the war?
Hast thou not heard him thundering at our gates?
The tyrant's pent up in his last retreat;
Anon, thou'lt see his battlements in dust,
His walls, his ramparts, and his towers in ruin;
Destruction pouring in on ev'ry side,
Pride and oppression at their utmost need,
And nought to save him in his hopeless hour.
(A flourish of trumpets.)
Mel. Ha! the fell tyrant comes. Beguile his

rage,

And o'er your sorrows cast a dawn of gladness.
Enter DIONYSIUS, CALIPPUS, Officers, &c.
Dion. The vain, presumptuous Greek! his hopes
of conquest,

Like a gay dream, are vanish'd into air.
Proudly elate, and flush'd with easy triumph
O'er vulgar warriors, to the gates of Syracuse
He urg'd the war, till Dionysius' arm

Let slaughter loose, and taught his dastard train
To seek their safety by inglorious flight.

Euph. Oh! Dionysius, if distracting fears
Alarm this throbbing bosom, you will pardon
A frail and tender sex. Till the fury
Of war subside, the wild, the horrid interval
In safety let me sooth to dear delight

In a lov'd father's presence: from his sight,
For three long days, with specious feign'd excuse
Your guards debarr'd me. Oh! while yet he lives,

Indulge a daughter's love; worn out with age
Soon must he seal his eyes in endless night,
And with his converse charm my ear no more.
Dion. Afflicted fair,

Thy couch invites thee. When the tumult's o'er
Thou'lt see Evander with redoubled joy.
Though now unequal to the cares of empire,
His age sequester him, yet honours high
Shall gild the ev'ning of his various day.
Perdiccas, ere the morn's revolving light
Unveil the face of things, do thou despatch
A well-oar'd galley to Hamilcar's fleet;
At the north point of yonder promontory,
Let some selected officer instruct him
To moor his ships, and issue on the land.
Then may Timoleon tremble: vengeance, then,
Shall overwhelm his camp, pursue his bands
With fatal havoc to the ocean's margin,
And cast their limbs to glut the vulture's famine
In mangled heaps upon the naked shore.

[Exit

Euph. What do I hear? Melanthon, can it be? If Carthage come, if her perfidious sons

List in his cause, the dawn of freedom's gone, Mel. Woe, bitterest woe impends; thou wouldst not think

Euph. How? Speak! unfold.

Mel. My tongue denies its office.

Euph. How is my father? Say, Melanthon-
Mel. He,-

I fear to shock thee with the tale of horror!
Perhaps he dies this moment, Since Timoleon
First form'd his lines round this beleaguer'd

city,

No nutriment has touch'd Evander's lips.
In the deep caverns of the rock imprisoned,
He pines in bitterest want.

Euph. Well, my heart,

Well do your vital drops forget to flow!
Mel. Despair, alas! is all the sad resource
Our fate allows us now.

Euph. Yet, why despair?

Is that the tribute to a father due?
Blood is his due.

Melanthon, come; my wrongs will lend me force
The weakness of my sex is gone; this arm
Feels tenfold strength; this arm shall do a deed
For heaven and earth, for men and gods to wonder

at:

This arm shall vindicate a father's cause. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-A wild romantic Scene, amidst overhanging rocks; a cavern on one side.

Enter ARCAS, with a spear in his hand.
Arc. The gloom of night sits heavy on the world!
And o'er the solemn scene such stillness reigns
As 'twere a pause of nature; on the beach
No murmuring billow breaks; the Grecian tents
Lie sunk in sleep; no gleaming fires are seen;
All Syracuse is hush'd: no stir abroad,
Save ever and anon the dashing oar
That beats the sullen wave. And, hark!
that

The groan of anguish from Evander's cell,
Piercing the midnight gloom? It is the sound
Of bustling prows, that cleave the briny deep.
Perhaps, at this dead hour, Hamilcar's fleet
Rides in the bay.

Enter PHILOTAS from the cavern.
Phil. What, ho! brave Arcas! ho!
Arc. Why thus desert thy couch?

Was

Phil. Some dread event is lab'ring into birth. At close of day the sullen sky held forth

Unerring signals. With disastrous glare

Wert born in Greece. Oh! by our common parent

Nay, stay; thou shalt not fly; Philotas, stay;
You have a father, too; think, were his lot
Hard as Evander's; if, by felon hands,
Chain'd to the earth, with slow consuming pangs
He felt sharp want, and, with an asking eye
Implor'd relief, yet cruel men deny'd it,

Wouldst thou not burst through adamantine gates,
Through walls and rocks to save him? Think,
Philotas,

Of thy own aged sire, and pity mine.
Think of the agonies a daughter feels,
When thus a parent wants the common food,
The bounteous hand of nature meant for all.
Phil. 'Twere best withdraw thee, princess; thy
assistance

Evander wants not; it is fruitless all;
Thy tears, thy wild entreaties, are in vain.
Euph. Ha! thou hast murder'd him; he is no
more;-

I understand thee;-butchers, you have shed
The precious drops of life: yet, e'en in death,
Let me behold him; let a daughter close
With duteous hand a father's beamless eyes;

blood;

And, lo! athwart the gloom, a falling star Trails a long tract of fire! What daring step Sounds on the flinty rock? Stand, there!

ho!

Speak, ere thou dar'st advance.

pose:

Who and what art thou?

Unfold thy

Euph. (Without.) Thou need'st not fear,

It is a friend approaches.

Phil. Ha! what mean

Those plaintive notes?

Euph. (Without.) He is no ambush'd Greek, No warrior to surprise thee on the watch.

An humble suppliant comes. Alas! my strength,
Exhausted quite, forsakes this weary frame.
Phil. What voice thus piercing through the gleam
of night-

What art thou? what thy errand? quickly say! What wretch, with what intent, at this dread hour

Wherefore alarm'st thou thus our peaceful watch?

hush'd;

All things are mute around us; all but you
Rest in oblivious slumbers from their cares.
Euph. Yes, all; all rest: the very murd'rer
sleeps;

Guilt is at rest: I only wake to misery.

Phil. How didst thou gain the summit of the rock?

Euph. Give me my father; here you hold him fetter'd;

Oh! give him to me:-if ever

The touch of nature throbb'd within your breast,
Admit me to Evander; in these caves

I know he pines in want; let me convey
Some charitable succour to a father.

Phil. Alas! Euphrasia, would I dare comply.
Euph. It will be virtue in thee, Thou, like me,

This is my last abode: these caves, these rocks,
Shall wring for ever with Euphrasia's wrongs;
All Sicily shall hear me; yonder deep
Shall echo back an injur'd daughter's cause;
Here will I dwell, and rave, and shriek, and give
These scatter'd locks to all the passing winds;
Call on Evander lost; and, pouring curses,
And cruel gods and cruel stars invoking,
Stand on the cliff in madness and despair.
with what severe enforcement Dionysius
Phil. Yet calm this violence; reflect, Euphrasia,

Exacts obedience to his dread command.
If here thou'rt found-

Euph. Here is Euphrasia's mansion.
(Falls on the ground.)
Her fix'd eternal home: inhuman savages,
Here stretch me with a father's murder'd corse.
Phil. By heaven,

My heart in pity bleeds

Her vehemence of grief o'erpow'rs me quite.
My honest heart condemns the barb'rous deed,
And if I dare-

Euph. And if you dare! Is that

The voice of manhood? Honest, if you dare!
'Tis the slave's virtue! 'tis the utmost limit
Of the base coward's honour. Not a wretch,
There's not a villain, not a tool of pow'r,
But, silence interest, extinguish fear,
And he will prove benevolent to man.
The gen'rous heart does more: will dare do all
That honour prompts. How dost thou dare to
murder?

Respect the gods, and know no other fear.

Phil. No other fear assails this warlike breast.

I pity your misfortunes; yes, by heav'n,

My heart bleeds for you. Gods! you're touch'd my soul!

The gen'rous impulse is not giv'n in vain.

I feel thee, nature, and I dare obey.

Oh! thou hast conquer'd, Go, Euphrasia, go,
Behold thy father,