« 이전계속 »
Horatia. [Wildly..] Ye gods, I thank yet 'tis with joy I hear it. If I should falter now, that sight would rouse My drooping rage, and swell the tempest louder. —But soft; they may prevent me; my wild passion Betrays my purpose.—I’ll dissemble with them. [She sits down. Palerius. She softens now. Paleria. 'How do you, my Horatia Horatia. Alas, my friend, 'tis madness which I utterSince you persuade me then, I will not go. But leave me to myself; I would sit here; Alone in silent sadness pour my tears, And meditate on my unheard-of woes. Palerius. [To Valeria.] "Twere well to humour this. But may she not, If left alone, do outrage on herself. Paleria. I have prevented that; she has not near her One instrument of death. Palerius. Retire we then. “But, Oh, not far, for now I feel my soul “Still more perplex'd with love. Who knows, Valeria, “But when this storm of grief has blown its fill, “She may glow calm, and listen to my vows.” [Exeunt Valerius and Valeria.
After a short Silence, HokAtta rises, and comes forward.
Foratia. Yes, they are gone; and now be firm, my Soul |
This way I can elude their search. The heart,
Which dotes like mine, must break to be at ease.
Just now I thought, had Curiatius liv'd,
I could have driven him from my breast for ever.
But death has cancell'd all my wrongs at once.
—They were not wrongs; ’twas virtue which un-
And virtue shall unite us in the grave.
I heard them say, as they departed hence,
That they had robb'd me of all means of death.
Vain thought I they knew not half Horatia's purpose.
Be resolute, my brother; let no weak
Unmanly fondness mingle with thy virtue,
And I will touch thee nearly. Oh, come on,
'Tis thou alone canst give Horatia peace. [Exit.
A Street of Rome. Chorus of Touths and Virgins singing and scattering Branches of Oak, Flowers, &c. Then enters HoRATI Us, leaning on the Arm of PUBLIus HoRATIUS.
Thus, for freedom nobly won,
Rome her hasty tribute pours;
And on one vićtorious son
Half exhausts her blooming stores.
Scatter here the laurel crown,
Emblem of immortal praise I
Wondrous youth 1 to thy renown
Future times shall altars raise.
Scatter here the myrtle wreath,
Though the bloodless victor's due ;
Grateful thousands sav'd from death
Shall devote that wreath to you.
Scatter here the oaken bough;
Ev’n for one averted fate,
We that civic meed bestow —
He sav'd all who sav'd the state.
Thus for freedom, &c.
Horatius. Thou dost forgive me then, my dearest boy, t
I cannot tell thee half my ecstasy.
The day which gave thee first to my glad hopes
Was misery to this—I’m mad with transport 1
Why are ye silent there Again renew
Your songs of praise, and in a louder strain
Pour forth your joy, and tell the list'ning spheres
That Rome is freed by my Horatius' hand.
Pub. No more, my friends.--You must permit me, sir,
To contradict you here. Not but my soul,
Like yours, is open to the charms of praise:
There is no joy beyond it, when the mind
Of him who hears it can with honest pride
Confess it just, and listen to its music.
But now the toils I have sustain’d require
Their interval of rest, and every sense
is deaf to pleasure—Let me leave you, friends;
We're near our home, and would be private now :
To-morrow we'll expect your kind attendance
To share our joys, and waft our thanks to Heaven,
As they are going off, Ho RATIA rushes in.
Hoatia. Where is this mighty chieft
Horatius. My daughter's voice
I bade her come; she has forgot her sorrows,
And is again my child.
Horalia. Is this the hero
That tramples nature's ties, and nobly soars
Above the dictates of humanity
Let me observe him well.
Pub. What means my sister?
Horatia. Thy sister! I disclaim the impious title; Base and inhuman! Give me back my husband, My life, my soul, my murder'd Curiatius I
Pub. He crish’d for his country.
Horatia. Gracious gods I
Was’t not enough that thou hadst murder'd him,
But thou must triumph in thy guilt, and wear
His bleeding spoils —Oh, let me tear them from thee,
Drink the dear drops that issu’d from his wounds,
More dear to me than the whole tide that swells
With impious pride a hostile brother's heart.
Horatius. Am I awake, or is it all illusion 1
Was it for this thou cam'st -
Pub. Horatia, hear me,
Yet I am calm, and can forgive thy folly;
Would I could call it by no harsher name.
But do not tempt me farther. Go, my sister,
Go hide thee from the world, nor let a Roman
Know with what insolence thou dar'st avow
Thy infamy, or what is more, my shame,
How tamely I forgave it.—Go, Horatia.
Horatia. I will not go.—What, have I touch'd thee,
And canst thou feel —Oh, think not thou shalt lose
Thy share of anguish. I’ll pursue thee still,
“Urge thee all day with thy unnatural crimes,
“Tear, harrow up thy breast; and then at night”
I'll be the fury that shall haunt thy dreams;
Wake thee with shrieks, and place before thy sight
Thy mangled friends in all their pomp of horror.
Pub. Away with her I 'tis womanish complaining.
Think'st thou such trifles can alarm the man
Whose noblest passion is his country's love
“ –Let it be thine, and learn to bear afflićtion.”
Horatia. Curse on my country's love, the trick ye