Whose ghosts have all this night, passing the
Zorat,

Call'd from the bridge of death to thee to follow,
That now thou'rt here to answer to their cry?
Howe'er it be, thou know'st thy welcome.
Pho. Yes,

Thou proud, blood-thirsty Arab!-Well I know
What to expect from thee: I know ye all,
How should the author of distress and ruin
Be mov'd to pity? That's a human passion.
No-in your hungry eyes, that look revenge,
I read my doom. Where are your racks,

your tortures?

I'm ready-lead me to them; I can bear
The worst of ills from you. You're not my friends,
My countrymen.-Yet were you_men, I could
Unfold a story-But no more— Eumenes,
Thou hast thy wish, and I am now-a worm!
Abu. Leader of armies, hear him! for my mind
Presages good accruing to our cause
By this event.
[Apart to Caled.
Caled. I tell thee then thou wrong'st us,
To think our hearts thus steel'd, or our ears deaf
To all that thou may'st utter. Speak, disclose
The secret woes that throb within thy breast.
Now, by the silent hours of night, we'll hear thee,
And mute attention shall await thy words.

Pho. This is not then the palace in Damascus!
If you will hear, then I indeed have wrong'd you.
How can this be?—When he, for whom I've

fought,

Perhaps he will at length accept thy bounty.
Try him, at least.
[Apart to Caled.
Caled. Well-be it so then. Daran,
Guard well thy charge-Thou hast an hour
to live:

[Exeunt Caled and Abudah. Daran

If thou art wise, thou may'st prolong that term; Fought against you, has yet refus'd to hear me ! Ifnot-why-Fare thee well, and think of death. You seem surpris'd.—It was ingratitude That drove me out, an exile, not a foe. Abu. Is it possible?

Are these thy Christian friends?

Caled. 'Tis well-we thank them:
They help us to subdue themselves-But who
Was the companion of thy flight?-A woman,
So Daran said-

Pho. 'Tis there I am most wretched-
Oh, I am torn from all my soul held dear,
And my life's blood flows out upon the wound!
That woman-'twas for her-How shall
speak it?

waits at a distance.

Pho. "Farewell, and think of death!" Was
it not so?

Do murderers then preach morality?-
But how to think of what the living know not,
And the dead cannot, or else may not tell!-
What art thou, oh, thou great mysterious terror!
The way to thee we know! disease, famine,
Sword, fire, and all thy ever open gates,
That day and night stand ready to receive us.
But what's beyond them? - Who will draw
that veil?

Eudocia, oh, farewell!-I'll tell you then, Yet death's not there- No, 'tis a point of time, As fast as these heart-rending sighs will let me: The verge 'twixt mortal and immortal beings. I lov'd the daughter of the proud Eumenes, It mocks our thoughts! On this side all is life; And long in secret woo'd her; not unwelcome And when we have reach'd it, in that very To her my visits; but I fear'd her father;

instant,

When soul and body part, sure I have felt it,
And there's no more to fear.
Daran. Suppose I now
Dispatch him?-Right-What need to stay
for orders?

Who oft had press'd her to detested nuptials, 'Tis past the thinking of! Oh! if it be
And therefore durst not, till this night of joy, The pangs, the throes, the agonizing struggles
Avow to him my courtship. Now I thought her
Mine, by a double claim, of mutual vows,
And service yielded at his greatest need:
When, as I mov'd my suit, with sour disdain,
He mock'd my service and forbade my love,
Degraded me from the command I bore,
And with defiance bade me seek the foe.
How has his curse prevail'd!—The gen'rous maid
Was won by my distress to leave the city;
And cruel fortune made me thus your prey.
Abu. My soul is mov'd-Thou wert a man,
Oh, prophet!

Forgive, if 'tis a crime, a human sorrow
For injur'd worth, though in an enemy! [Aside.
Pho. Now-since you've heard my story,
set me free,

That I may save her yet, dearer than life,
From a tyrannic father's threaten'd force;
Gold, gems, and purple vests, shall pay my

ransom ;

I wish I durst!-Yet what I dare, I'll do.
[Aside
Your jewels, Christian-You'll not need these
trifles. [Searches him
Pho. I pray thee, slave, stand off—My souf's
too busy

To lose a thought on thee.

Re-enter ABUDAH.

Abu. What's this?-Forbear!

Aside.

counsels?

Why did I conquer in another cause,
Yet now am here?

Why, 'twas for that I left my country's gods, Where is the man can read heav'n's secret
Menaph and Uzza. Better still be Pagan,
Than starve with a new faith.
Abu. What dost thou mutter?
Daran, withdraw, and better learn thy duty.
[Exit Daran.
Phocyas, perhaps thou know'st me not?
Pho. I know

Thy name, Abudah, and thy office here,
The second in command. What more thou art,
Indeed I cannot tell.

Abu. True; for thou yet

Know'st not I am thy friend.
Pho. Is't possible?

Thou speak'st me fair.

Abu. What dost thou think of life?

Pho. I think not of it; death was in my thoughts. On hard condition, life were but a load,

And I will lay it down.

Abu. Art thou resolv'd?

Abu. I'll tell thee: thy good angel
Has seiz'd thy hand unseen, and snatch'd thee out
From swift destruction: know, ere day shall
dawn,

Damascus will in blood lament its fall!
We've heard what army is design'd to march
Too late to save her. "Now, e'en now, our force
Is just preparing for a fresh assault.
Now too thou might'st revenge thy wrongs-
so Caled

Charg'd me to say, and more-that he invites
thee;

Thou know'st the terms-to share with him the conquest.

Pho. Conquest! Revenge!-Hold, let me think-Oh, horror!

Pho. I am, unless thou bring'st me better terms Revenge! Oh, what revenge? Bleed on, my

Than those I have rejected.

Abu. Think again.

Caled by me once more renews that offer.
Pho. Thou say'st thou art my friend: why
dost thou try

To shake the settled temper of my breast?
My soul has just discharg'd her cumb'rous train
Of hopes and fears, prepar'd to take her voyage
To other seats, where she may rest in peace;
And now thou call'st me back, to beat again
The painful road of life-Tempt me no more
To be a wretch, for I despise the offer.
Abu. The gen'ral knows thee brave, and 'tis
for that

He seeks alliance with thy noble virtues.
Pho. He knows me brave!-Why does he
then thus treat me?

No, he believes I am so poor of soul,
That, barely for the privilege to live,
I would be bought his slave. But go, tell him
The little space of life, his scorn bequeath'd me,
Was lent in vain, and he may take the forfeit.
Abu. Why wilt thou wed thyself to misery,
When our faith courts thee to eternal blessings?
When truth itself is, like a seraph, come
To loose thy bands?—The light divine, whose

beams

wounds,

For thus to be reveng'd, were it not worse
Than all that I can suffer?-But, Eudocia
Where will she then?-Shield her, ye pity-
ing pow'rs,

And let me die in peace!

Abu. Hear me once more,

"Tis all I have to offer; mark me now!
Caled has sworn Eudocia shall be safe.
Pho. Ha! safe-but how? A wretched cap-
tive too?

Abu. He swears she shall be free, she shall
be thine.

Pho. Then I am lost indeed.
Abu. The time draws near, and I must
quickly leave thee;
But first reflect, that in this fatal night
Slaughter and rapine may be loos'd abroad;
And while they roam with unextinguish'd rage,
Should she thou lov'st-(well may'st thou start)
-be made,

Perhaps unknown, some barb'rous soldier's prey;
Should she then fall a sacrifice to lust,
Or brutal fury—

Pho. Oh! this pulls my heart-strings! [Falls.
Earth open-save me, save me from that thought.
Abu. Nay, do not plunge thyself in black
despair;
Look up, poor wretch, thou art not shipwreck'd
yet;

Behold an anchor; am not I thy friend?
Pho. [Rises] Ha! Who, what art thou?
[Raves.

Pierc'd through the gloom of Hera's sacred cave,
And there illumin'd the great Mahomet,
Arabia's morning star, now shines on thee.
Arise, salute with joy the guest from heav'n,
Follow her steps, and be no more a captive.
Pho. But whither must I follow?-Answer that.
Is she a guest from heav'n? What marks divine, My friend? that's well; but hold-are all friends
What signs, what wonders, vouch her boast-
ed mission?
Abu. What wonders?-Turn thy eye to
Mecca mark

How far from Caaba first, that hallow'd temple,
Her glory dawn'd!-then look how swift its

course,

As when the sun-beams, shooting through a
cloud,

Drive o'er the meadow's face the flying shades!
Have not the nations bent before our swords,
Like ripen'd corn before the reaper's steel?
Why is all this? Why does success still wait
Upon our laws, if not to show that heav'n
First sent it forth, and owns it still by conquest?
Pho. Dost thou ask why is this?-Oh, why
indeed?

honest?

What's to be done?-Hush, hark! what voice is that?

Abu. There is no voice; 'tis yet the dead
of night;

The guards without keep silent watch around us.
Pho. Again it calls-'tis she-O,lead me to her!
Abu. Thy passion mocks thee with imagin'd

sounds.

Pho. Sure 'twas Eudocia's voice cry'd out,
Forbear!

What shall I do?-Oh, heav'n!

Abu. Heav'n shows thee what.
Nay, now it is too late; see Caled comes,
With anger on his brow. Quickly withdraw
To the next tent, and there

Pho. [Rises] What do I see?

Damascus! conquest! ruin! rapes and murder! Then, as with fresh recover'd force, cry'd out, Villains! Is there no more?-Oh, save her, "Renounce my faith! Never."-I answer'd, "No, That now he should not do it."

save her!

[Exeunt Phocyus and Abudah.

Re-enter CALED and DARAN.
Daran. Behold, on thy approach, they shift
their ground.
Caled. 'Tis as thou say'st;

my mercy.

he trifles

Daran. Speak, shall I fetch his head?
Caled. No, stay you here,

with

I cannot spare thee yet. Raphan, go thou.
[To an Officer.
But hold-I've thought again-he shall not die.
Go, tell him he shall live till he has seen
Damascus sink in flames, till he behold
That slave, that woman idol he adores,
Or giv'n a prize to some brave Mussulman,
Or slain before his face; then if he sue
For death, as for a boon, perhaps we'll grant it.
[Exit Raphan.
Daran. The captains wait thy orders.
Caled. Are the troops

Ready to march?

Daran. They are.

Caled. Mourn, thou haughty city!
The bow is bent, nor canst thou scape thy doom.
Who turns his back henceforth, our prophet
curse him!

Daran. But who commands the trusty
bands of Mecca?

Thou know'st their leader fell in the last fight.
Caled. 'Tis true; thou, Daran, well deserv'st
that charge;
I've mark'd what a keen hatred, like my own,
Dwells in thy breast against these Christian dogs.
Daran, Thou dost me right.

Caled. And therefore I'll reward it.
Be that command now thine. And here, this sabre,
Bless'd in the field by Mahomet himself,
At Caabar's prosp'rous fight, shall aid thy arm.
Daran. Thanks, my good chief; with this I'll
better thank thee.

[Takes the Scimitar. Caled. Myself will lead the troops of the black standard,

And at the eastern gate begin the storm.

Caled. How?

Abu. Yet hear;

For since I saw him now so lost in passion,
That must be left to his more temp'rate thoughts.
Mean time I urg'd,conjur'd,at last constrain'd him,
By all he held most dear, nay, by the voice
Of Providence, that call'd him now to save,
With her he lov'd, perhaps the lives of thousands,
No longer to resist his better fate,
But join his arms in present action with us,
And swear he would be faithful.

Caled. What, no more?
Then he's a Christian still!
Abu. Have patience yet;

For if by him we can surprise the city-
Caled. Say'st thou?

Abu. Hear what's agreed; but on the terms
That ev'ry unresisting life be spar'd.

I shall command some chosen, faithful bands;
Phocyas will guide us to the gate, from whence
He late escap'd; nor do we doubt but there
With ease to gain admittance.
Caled. This is something.

And yet I do not like this half ally.
Is he not still a Christian?-But no matter-
Mean time I will attack the eastern gate:
Who first succeeds gives entrance to the rest.
Hear all!-Prepare ye now for boldest deeds,
And know, the prophet will reward your valour.
Think that we all to certain triumph move;
Who falls in fight yet meets the prize above.
There, in the gardens of eternal spring,
While birds of Paradise around you sing,
Each, with his blooming beauty by his side,
Shall drink rich wines, that in full rivers glide;
Breathe fragrant gales o'er fields of spice that
blow,

And gather fruits immortal as they grow;
Ecstatic bliss shall your whole pow'rs employ,
And ev'ry sense be lost in ev'ry joy. [Exeunt
ACT IV.

SCENE I.-A great Square in the City be-
fore the Governor's Palace.

Daran. But why do we not move? 'twill Enter ABUDAH, Saracen Captains and Sol

soon be day.

Methinks I'm cold, and would grow warm

with action.

Caled. Then haste and tell Abudah-O, thou'rt welcome!

Re-enter ABUDAH.

Thy charge awaits thee. Where's the stubborn captive?

Abu. Indeed he's brave. I left him for a moment
In the next tent. He's scarcely yet himself.
Caled. But is he ours?

Abu. The threats of death are nothing;
Though thy last message shook his soul, as winds
On the bleak hills bend down some lofty pine;
Yet still he held his root, till I found means,
Abating somewhat of thy first demand,
If not to make him wholly ours, at least
To gain sufficient to our end.

Caled. Say how?

diers; with EUMENES, HERBIS, and other Christians, unarmed.

Eum. It must be so-farewell, devoted walls! To be surprised thus!-Hell, and all ye fiends, How did ye watch this minute for destruction! Her. We've been betray'd by riot and debauch. Curse on the traitor guard.

Eum. The guard above,

Did that sleep too?

Abu. Christians, complain no more,
What you have ask'd is granted. Are ye men,
And dare ye question thus, with bold impatience,
Eternal justice?-Know, the doom from heaven
Falls on your towers, resistless as the bolt
That fires the cedars on your mountain tops.
Be meek, and learn with humble awe to bear
The mitigated ruin. Worse had follow'd,
Had ye oppos'd our numbers. Now you're safe;
Quarter and liberty are giv'n to all;
And little do ye think how much ye owe
To one brave enemy, whom yet ye know not.
Enter ARTAMON, hastily.

Abu. Oft he inclin'd, oft started back; at last,
When just consenting, for awhile he paus'd,
Stood fix'd in thought, and lift his eyes to heaven; Art. All's lost!-Ha!-Who are these?

Eum. All's lost indeed.

Receive our law, or pay th'accustomed tribute? Yield up thy sword, if thou wouldst share our What fear we then from a few wretched bands

safety.

Why sleeps thy sword?

Abu. Caled, our task is over.

Behold the chiefs! they have resign'd the palace.
Caled. And sworn t'obey our law?
Abu. No.

Caled. Then fall on.

Abu. Hold yet, and hear me-
-Heaven by me
has spar'd

The sword its cruel task. On easy terms
We've gain'd a bloodless conquest.

Caled. I renounce it.

Curse on those terms! The city's mine by storm.
Fall on, I

say.

Abu. Nay, then I swear ye shall not.
Caled. Ha!-Who am I?

Abu. The general-and I know
What reverence is your due.

[Caled gives Signs to his Men to fall on. Nay, he who stirs,

First makes his way through me. My honour's pledg'd;

Rob me of that who dares. [They stop] I know thee, Caled,

Chief in command; bold, valiant, wise, and
faithful;

But yet remember I'm a Mussulman;
Nay more, thou know'st, companion of the
prophet;

And what we vow is sacred.

Caled. Thou'rt a Christian,

I swear thou art, and hast betray'd the faith.
Curse on thy new allies!

Abu. No more-this strife

But ill beseems the servants of the caliph, | And casts reproach - Christians, withdraw awhile:

Of scatter'd fugitives?-Besides, thou know'st
What towns of strength remain yet unsubdu'd.
Let us appear this once like generous victors,
So future conquests shall repay this bounty,
And willing provinces ev'n court subjection.
Caled. Well-be it on thy head, if worse
befall!

This once I yield-but see it thus proclaim'd
Through all Damascus, that who will depart,
Must leave the place this instant-Pass, move
[Exit.

on.

SCENE II.-The Outside of a Nunnery.
Enter EUDOCIA.

Eud. Darkness is fled; and yet the morning

light

Gives me more fears than did night's deadly gloom.

Within, without, all, all are foes-Oh, Phocyas,
Thou art perhaps at rest! would I were too!
[After a Pause.

This place has holy charms! rapine and murder
Dare not approach it, but are aw'd to distance.
I've heard that even these infidels have spar'd
Walls sacred to devotion-World, farewell!
Here will I hide me, till the friendly grave
Opens its arms, and shelters me for ever! [Exit.
Enter PHOCYAS.

Pho. Did not I hear the murmurs of a voice This way?-A woman's too!-and seem'd complaining!

Hark!-No-O torture! Whither shall I turn me?
'Twas here last night we met. Dear, dear Eudocia?
Might I once more- [ Going out, he meets her.
Eud. Who calls the lost Eudocia?
Sure 'tis a friendly voice!

Pho. 'Tis she-O rapture!
Eud. Is't possible-my Phocyas!
Pho. My Eudocia!

Do I yet call thee mine?

Eud. Do I yet see thee?

Yet hear thee speak? O how hast thou escap'd From barbarous swords, and men that know not mercy?

Pho. I've borne a thousand deaths since our
last parting:

But wherefore do I talk of death?-for now,
Methinks I'm rais'd to life immortal,
And feel I'm blest beyond the power of change;
For thee have triumph'd o'er the fiercest foes,
And turn'd them friends.

I pledge my life to answer the conditions-
[Exeunt Eumenes, Herbis, etc.
Why, Caled, do we thus expose ourselves
A scorn to nations that despise our law?
Thou call'st me Christian-What! Is it because
1 prize my plighted faith, that I'm a Christian? | With silent awe, and worship as I
Come, 'tis not well, and if-

Eud. Amazement! Friends!
O all ye guardian powers!-Say on-O lead me,
Lead me through this dark maze of providence,
Which thou hast trod, that I may trace thy steps

Caled. What terms are yielded?

Abu. Leave to depart to all that will; an oath first given no more to aid the war against us, An unmolested march. Each citizen

To take his goods, not more than a mule's burden;
The chiefs six mules, and ten the governor;
Besides some few slight arms for their defence
Against the mountain robbers.

Caled. Now, by Mahomet,
Thou hast equipp'd an army!
Abu. Canst thou doubt

pass.

Pho. Inquire no more-thou shalt know all hereafter

Let me conduct thee hence.

Eud. O whither next?

To what far distant home?-But 'tis enough
That, favour'd thus of heaven, thou art my guide.
And as we journey on the painful way,
Say, wilt thou then beguile the passing hours,
And open all the wonders of the story?
Where is my father?

Pho. Thou heavenly maid!

Know, I've once more, wrong'd as I am,even sav'd

The greatest part by far will choose to stay, Thy father's threaten'd life: nay, sav'd Damascus

From blood and slaughter, and from total ruin. Think of the cause-
O didst thou know to what deadly gulfs
Of horror and despair I have been driven
This night, ere my perplex'd, bewilder'd soul
Could find its way!-thou saidst that thou wouldst
chide?

I fear thou wilt: indeed I have done that,
I could have wish'd t'avoid-but for a cause
So lovely, so belov'd-

Eud. What dost thou mean?

I'll not indulge a thought that thou couldst do
One act unworthy of thyself, thy honour,
And that firm zeal against these foes of heaven:
Thou couldst not save thy life by means inglorious.
Pho. Alas thou know'st me not-I'm man,
frail man,

Eud. The cause! there is no cause-
Not universal nature could afford
A cause for this. What where dominion, pomp,
The wealth of nations, nay of all the world,
If weigh'd with faith unspotted, heavenly truth,
Thoughts free from guilt, the empire of the mind,
And all the triumph of a godlike breast,
Firm and unmov'd in the great cause of virtue?
Pho. No more- -Thou waken'st in my tor-
tur'd heart

The cruel, conscious worm,that stings to madness!
Oh, I'm undone! I know it, and can bear
To be undone for thee, but not to lose thee.
Eud. Poor wretch!-I pity thee! - but art
thou Phocyas,

To error born; and who, that's man, is perfect? The man I lov'd?-I could have dy'd with thee
To save my life! O no, well was it risk'd Ere thou didst this: then we had gone together,
For thee! had it been lost, 'twere not too much, A glorious pair, and soar'd above the stars:
And thou art'safe:--O whatwouldst thou have said, But never, never
If I had risk'd my soul to save Eudocia?

Eud. Ha,speak-Oh no,be dumb-it cannot be!
And yet thy looks are chang'd, thy lips grow pale.
Why dost thou shake?-Alas! I tremble too!
Thou couldst not, hast not sworn to Mahomet?
Pho. No-I should first have dy'd-nay,
given up thee.

Eud. O Phocyas! was it well to try me thus?
And yet another deadly fear succeeds!
How came these wretches hither? Who reviv'd
Their fainting arms to unexpected triumph?
For while thou fought'st, and fought'st the
Christian cause,

These batter'd walls were rocks impregnable,
Their towers of adamant. But, oh, I fear
Some act of thine-

Pho. No more-I'll tell the all;

I found the wakeful foe in midnight council,
Resolv'd ere day to make a fresh attack,
Keen for revenge, and hungry after slaughter—
Could my rack'd soul bear that, and think of thee?
Nay, think of thee expos'd a helpless prey
To some fierce ruffian's violating arms?
O, had the world been mine, in that extreme
I should have given whole provinces away;
Nay, all-and thought it little for my ransom!
Eud. For this then-Oh, thou hast betray'd
the city!

Distrustful of the righteous powers above,
That still protect the chaste and innocent!
And to avert a feign'd, uncertain danger,
Thou hast brought certain ruin on thy country!
Pho. No, the sword,

Which threaten'd to have fill'd the streets with
blood,

I sheath'd in peace; thy father, thou, and all
The citizens are safe, uncaptiv'd, free.

Eud. Safe! free! O no-life, freedom, every
good,

Turns to a curse, if sought by wicked means!
Yet sure it cannot be! are these the terms
On which we meet?—No, we can never meet
On terms like these; the hand of death itself
Could not have torn us from each other's arms,
Like this dire act!

Will I be made the curs'd reward of treason,
To seal thy doom, to bind a hellish league,
And to ensure thy everlasting woe.

Pho. What league?-'tis ended-I renounce
it-thus-

[Kneels.
I bend to heaven and thee-0 thou divine,
Thou matchless image of all perfect goodness!
Do thou but pity yet the wretched Phocyas,
Heaven will relent, and all may yet be well.

Eud. No-we must part.
Then do not think

Thy loss in me is worth one drooping tear:
But if thou wouldst be reconcil'd to heaven,
First sacrifice to heaven that fatal passion
Which caus'd thy fall; forget the lost Eudocia.
Canst thou forget her?-Oh! the killing torture,
To think 'twas love, excess of love, divorc'd us!
Farewell for-still I cannot speak that word,
These tears speak for me-O farewell

[Exit.

Pho. [Raving] For ever!
Return, return and speak it; say, for ever!
She's gone-and now she joins the fugitives.
O hear, all gracious heaven! wilt thou at once
Forgive: and, oh, inspire me to some act
This day, that may in part redeem what's past!
Prosper this day, or let it be my last.

ACT V.

[Exit.

SCENE L-An open Place in the City. Enter CALED and DARAN, meeting. Caled. Soldier, what news? thou look'st as thou wert angry.

Daran. And, durst I say it so, my chief, I am; I've spoke-If it offends, my head is thine; Take it, and I am silent.

Caled. No, say on.

I know thee honest, and perhaps I uess
What knits thy brows in frowns-

Daran. Is this, my leader,

A conquer'd city?-View yon vale of palms:
Behold the vanquish'd Christian triumph still,
Rich in his flight, and mocks thy barren war.
Caled. The vale of palms?

Daran. Beyond those hills, the place
Where they agreed this day to meet and halt,
To gather all their forces; there disguis'd,
Just now I've view'd their camp-O, I could curse
My eyes for what they've seen.

Caled. What hast thou seen?
Daran. Why, all Damascus :-All its souls,
its life,