Euph. 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 every honest heart; Depress thy spirit? Lo! Timoleon comes, Arm'd with the power of Greece; the brave, the just, God-like Timoleon! ardent to redress, Mel. Still my fears Forebode for thee. Would thou hadst left this place, When hence your husband, the brave Phocion, Fled with your infant son! [fled, Euph. In duty fix'd, Here I remain'd, while my brave gen'rous Phocion [arms Fled with my child, and from his mother's Bore my sweet little one. Full well thou know'st 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 fates 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. Mel. I would not add to thy afflictions; yet My heart misgives; Evander's fatal periodEuph. Still is far off: the gods have sent relief, And once again I shall behold him king. Mel. Alas! those glitt'ring hopes but lend a cuse 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 ears no more. Dion. Afflicted fair, Thy couch invites thee. When the tumult's o'er, Thou'lt see Evander with redoubled joy. [Exit. Euph. What do I hear? Melanthon, can it If Carthage comes, if her perfidious sons [be? List in his cause, the dawn of freedom's gone. Mel. Woe, bitt'rest woe, impends; thou would'st not think Euph. How?-Speak! unfold. Euph. How is my father? Say, Melanthon 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 Well, do your vital drops forget to flow? Euph. Yet why despair? Is that the tribute to a father due? Timoleon drives the tumult of the war? ACT II. SCENE I.—A wild romantic scene amidst overhanging Rocks; a Cavern on one side. Enter ARCAS, with a Spear in his hand. Are. The gloom of night sits heavy on the world; And o'er the solemn scene such stillness reigns, tents Lie sunk in sleep; no gleaming fires are seen; The groan of anguish from Evander's cell, Enter PHILOTAS, from the Cavern. Of distant uproar chas'd affrighted sleep. A death-like silence through the wide expanse Phil. Do thou retire, And seek repose; the duty of thy watch Your royal pris'ner? Phil. Arcas, shall I own A secret weakness? My heart inward melts To see that suffering virtue. On the earth, The cold, damp earth, the royal victim lies; And, while pale famine drinks his vital spirit, He welcomes death, and smiles himself to rest. Oh! would I could relieve him! Thou withdraw; Thy wearied nature claims repose; and now The watch is mine. Arc. May no alarm disturb thee. [Exit. Phil. Some dread event is lab'ring into birth. At close of day the sullen sky held forth Unerring signals. With disastrous glare The moon's full orb rose crimson'd o'er with 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; what, ho! Speak, ere thou dar'st advance. Unfold thy Who and what art thou? [purpose: need'st not [fear, Euph. [Behind the scenes.] Thou It is a friend approaches. Phil. Ha! what mean Re-enter PHILOTAS, with EUPHRASIA. Euphrasia! Why, princess, thus anticipate the dawn? All things are mute around us; all but you Rest in oblivious slumber 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 [breast, The touch of nature throbb'd within your 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, [parentWert born in Greece:-Oh! by our common 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 [pangs Chain'd to the earth, with slow consuming He felt sharp want, and with an asking eye Implor'd relief, yet cruel men deny'd it, Would'st thou not burst through adamantine gates, [Philotas, Through walls and rocks, to save him? Think, 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; thou art, Advise a wretch like me to know repose? These scatter'd locks to all the passing winds; With what severe enforcement Dionysius Euph. Here is Euphrasia's mansion. [Falls. Her fix'd eternal home; inhuman savages, Here stretch me with a father's murder'd corse. E 38 Phil. By heaven, THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER. My heart in pity bleeds. Euph. And if you dare!-Is that The voice of manhood? Honest, if you dare! Respect the gods, and know no other fear. I pity your misfortunes; yes, by heaven, The gen'rous impulse is not given in vain. Yet mark my words; if aught of nourishment Euph. I will observe your orders: Euph. My heart runs o'er in thanks; the Timoleon shall reward; the bounteous gods, for me The glorious power to shelter innocence, SCENE II.-The inside of the Gavern. Enter ARCAS and EUPHRASIA. A wretched pittance; one poor cordial drop Arc. Not the smallest store Of scanty nourishment must pass these walls. Oh! give me, give me, rest. It pierces here! it cleaves my very heart. Arc. All I can grant [ACT II. Euph. Hold, hold, my heart! Oh! how shall Arc. Take your last farewell. A little air; once more a breath of air; Let me support you, Sir. Evan. Oh! lend your arm. [breeze Comes gently o'er my senses-lead me for- The hand of death is on him. A little onward to the air conduct me; And much I wonder at this gen'rous pity. That voice: art thou-alas! my eyes are dim! Euph. Not your own Euphrasia? Evan. My daughter, my Euphrasia! come to close A father's eyes! Given to my last embrace! well. Pass but a moment, and this busy globe, Will seem a speck in the grea. void of space. Euph. I will, my father. Evan. Where, I fear to ask it, where is virtuous Phocion? Expos'd and helpless? Euph. He is all truth and honour: Evan. My young Evander! Your boy is safe, Euphrasia?-Oh! my heart! Euph. Inhuman wretches! Will none relieve his want? A drop of water Might save his life; and even that's denied him. Eran. These strong emotions--Oh! that And lay me down in peace. Unheard-of torture, virtue can keep pace With your worst efforts, and can try new modes To bid men grow enamour'd of her charms. Exp. His eyes are fix'd; [hand: And those pale quiv'ring lips! He clasps my What, no assistance! Monsters, will you thus Let him expire in these weak, feeble arms? Enter PHILOTAS. Phil. Those wild, those piercing, shrieks will give th' alarm. Euph. Support him; bear him hence; 'tis ali I ask. Evan. [As he is carried off.] O death! where art thou? Death, thou dread of guilt, Thou wish of innocence, affliction's friend, Tir'd nature calls thee; come, in mercy come, And lay me pillow'd in eternal rest. [hand; My child, where art thou? give me; reach thy Why dost thou weep? My eyes are dry Alas! My voice shall warn her of th' approaching danger. [Exit. Arc. Would she had ne'er adventur'd to our guard. [veys I dread th' event; and hark!-the wind conIn clearer sound the uproar of the main. The fates prepare new havoc; on th' event Depends the fate of empire. Wherefore thus Delays Euphrasia ?-Ha! what means, Philotas, That sudden haste, that pale, disorder'd look? Re-enter PHILOTAS. Phil. O! I can hold no more; at such a sight E'en the hard heart of tyranny would melt To infant softness. Arcas, go, behold The pious fraud of charity and love; Behold that unexampled goodness; see Th' expedient sharp necessity has taught her; Thy heart will burn, will melt, will yearn to view A child like her. Arc. Ha-Say what mystery Wakes these emotions? Phil. Wonder-working virtue! The father foster'd at his daughter's breast! For her own offspring, on the parent's lip And learn, that, while your cruelty prepares Arc. Philotas, for Euphrasia, in her cause I now can hazard all. Let us preserve Her father for her. Phil. Oh! her lovely daring Transcends all praise. By heaven, he shall not die. I'll go Arc. And yet we must be wary. forth, And first explore each avenue around, Lest the fix'd sentinel obstruct your purpose. (Exit. Phil. I thank thee, Arcas; we will act like men [forth, Who feel for others' woes-She leads him And tremblingly supports his drooping age. Re-enter EUPHRASIA and EVANDER. Evan. Euphrasia, oh, my child! returning life [ward; Glows here about my heart. Conduct me forAt the last gasp preserv'd! Ha! dawning light! Let me behold; in faith, I see thee now; I do indeed: the father sees his child. Euph. I have reliev'd him-Oh, the joy's too great; "Tis speechless rapture! Evan. Blessings, blessings on thee! Could I abandon that white, hoary head, Alas! Phil. Thy tears, thou miracle of goodness! Have triumph'd o'er me. Take him, take your father; Convey him hence; I do release him to you. Evan. What said Philotas? Do I fondly dream? Indeed, my senses are imperfect; yet [me? rocks [Exit. [go? Evan. Whither, oh! whither shall Evander I'm at the goal of life; if in the race Honour has follow'd with no ling'ring step, But there sits smiling with her laurell'd wreath To crown my brow, there would I fain make halt, And not inglorious lay me down to rest. Afford a refuge to thee? Euphrasia's care has form'd a safe retreat; There may'st thou dwell; it will not long be wanted. Soon shall Timoleon, with resistless force, corpse. To me had heaven decreed a longer date, Though life's a burden I could well lay down, ACT III. [Exeunt. 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. Through ev'ry street Despair and terror fly. A panic spreads From man to man, and superstition sees [us. Jove arm'd with thunder, and the gods against Dion. With sacred rites their wrath must be appeas'd. Let instant victims at the altar bleed; Let incense roll its fragrant clouds to heaven, The solemn sacrifice, the virgin throng, 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. Dion. Oh! Philotas, hide [pire. Thou little know'st the cares, the pangs, of emThe ermin'd pride, the purple that adorns A conqueror's breast, but serves, my friend, to [morse: A heart that's torn, that's mangled with reEven 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? Dion. Detested thought! No, though ambition teem with countless ills, Phil. In chains they wait their doom. Dion. Assassins, and not warriors! do ye come, [sword, When the wide range of battle claims your 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 Point at my breast, and thirst for regal blood? Greek Offi. We sought thy life, I am by birth a Greek. at once An open foe in arms, I meant to slay 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. Dion. Thus then I warn them of my great |