Yet full of high and pleasing thoughts he fell. Lysan. The son of Agis lives, his infant years And prove that Agis perish'd not in vain. Ages. Conduct me, Spartans, to his dear re mains. Lysan. Forbear a while yon dismal vault. Enter Messenger. Mess. My lord, The people, headed by the priests of Jove Bearing the body of their royal lord, From that base dungeon to the sculptured tomb, Which guards the sacred dust of Sparta's kings. Enter the Procession with the body of AGIS. Lysan. O Destiny supreme! Euan. O sad remains of youth and majesty! Ages. My son, my son! Nature is thwarted here; thou should'st have borne Thy aged parent to the silent tomb. Chorus. Mourn, ye sons of Sparta, mourn, Priest of JUPITER. He fell not as the warrior falls, Whose breast defends his native walls. To treason Agis bow'd his head, And by his guilty subjects bled: Betray'd by those his mercy spared; Ingratitude was his reward. Chorus. Shame is mix'd with Sparta's woe, Blood of kings the city stains, Ever let our sorrows flow, Shame indelible remains. Priests of JUPITER. Yet Agis triumph'd in his fall; He only grieved for Sparta's state. And claim the freedom of the skies. Chorus. Agis triumph'd in his fall, Virtue triumphs over all! Such a king shall ne'er return: Our country and ourselves we mourn. Priests of HERCULES. Agis fell, by fraud o'ercome; |