ZENOBIA. BY MURPHY. PROLOGUE. Or old, when Rome, in a declining age, Ye tyrants of the pit, whose cold disdain Ye bards, to whom French wit gives kind relief, One little sprig, one leaf to deck his brow? He brings a tale from a far distant age, Ennobled by the grave historic page! Zenobia's woes have touched each polished state; The brightest eyes of France have mourn'd ber fate; Harmonious Italy her tribute paid, Yet think not that we mean to mock the eye This is our author's aim; and if his art Waken to sentiment the feeling heart; If in his scenes alternate passions burn, And friendship, love, guilt, virtue, take their turn; If innocence oppress'd lie bleeding here, You'll give 'tis all he asks-one virtuous tear. SCENE,-Lies in Pharasmanes' Camp, on the Banks of the Araxes. 4 SCENE I. ACT I. Zel. THROUGH the wide camp 'tis awful so- On every tent, which, at the morning's dawn, Zel. My lord, my husband!—help me; lend Zop. Why didst thou leave thy tent?-Why thus afflict Thy anxious breast, thou partner of my heart? Why wilt thou thus distract thy tender nature With groundless fears? Ere yonder sun shall visit The western sky, all will be hushed to peace. Zel. The interval is horrid; big with woe, Here in these tents, in this unpeopled camp, Zop. This day, at length, The warlike king, victorious Pharasmanes, Zop. Thy generous zeal, thy every sentiment Charms my delighted soul. But thou be cau tious, And check the rising ardour that inflames thee! The tyrant spares nor sex nor innocence. Zel. Indignant of controul, he spurns each law, Each holy sanction, that restrains the nations, And forms 'twixt man and man the bond of peace. VOL. II. Zop. This is the tyger's den; with human gore For ever floats the pavement; with the shrieks Of matrons weeping o'er their slaughtered sons, The cries of virgins, to the brutal arms Of violation dragged, with ceaseless groans Of varied misery, for ever rings The dreary region of his cursed domain. Zel. To multiply his crimes, a beauteous cap The afflicted Ariana-she--for her, Zop. The bounteous gods may succour virtue still! In this day's battle, which perhaps ere now The charging hosts have joined, should Roman valour Prevail o'er Asia's numbers Zel. That event cour; Support her; help her;-lo! the attendant train Assuage the sorrows of her gentle spirit! Enter ZENOBIA, leaning on two attendants. Zen. A little onward, still a little onward Support my steps Zel. How fares it, madam, now? Zen. My strength returns-I thank ye, generous maids, And would I could requite you-fruitless thanks Are all a wretch can give. First attend. The gentle office 2 F manes, With all a lover's fondness Zen. Name him not! Name not a monster horrible with blood, The widow's, orphan's, and the virgin's tears! Zel. Yet, savage as he is, at sight of thee Each fiercer passion softens into love. To you he bends; the monarch of the east, Dejected, droops beneath your cold disdain, And all the tyranny of female pride. Zen. That pride is virtue; virtue, that abhors The tyrant reeking from a brother's murder! Oh! Mithridates! ever honoured shade! Peaceful he reigned, dispensing good around him, In the mild eve of honourable days! Through all her peopled realm Armenia felt His equal sway: The sunset of his power, With fainter beams, but undiminished glory, Still shone serene; while every conscious subject, With tears of praise, beheld his calm decline, And blessed the parting ray!-yet then, Zelmira, Oh, fact accursed!-yes, Pharasmanes thenDetested perfidy! nor ties of blood, Nor sacred laws, nor the just gods, restrain him— In the dead midnight hour, the fell assassin Rushed on the slumber of the virtuous man; His life blood gushed! The venerable king Waked, saw a brother armed against his life— Forgave him, and expired! Zel. Yet wherefore open Afresh the wounds, which time long since hath closed? This day confirms the sceptre in his handZen. Confirms his sceptre-his!-indignant gods! Will no red vengeance, from your stores of wrath, Burst down to crush the tyrant in his guilt? His sceptre, saidst thou? more The sceptre of his son !---the solemn right Zel. Can Ariana plead For such a son?-Means she to varnish o'er The guilt of Rhadamistus? Zen. Guilt, Zelmira! Zel. Guilt that shoots horror through my ach ing heart! Poor lost Zenobia! Zen. And do her misfortunes Awaken tender pity in your breast? Zel. Ill-fated princess! in her vernal bloom By a false husband murdered!—from the stem A rose-bud torn, and in some desert cave Thrown by, to moulder into silent dust! Zen. You knew not Rhadamistus!--Ph rasmanes Knew not the early virtues of his son. Zel. Those strong impassioned looks!—some Works in her heart, and melts her into tears. [Aside. 275 And sought a requiem in the roaring flood. Zen. Ha! whither has my phrenzy led me!bark! lost! ever That sound of triumph! lost, for Ruined Armenia- -oh! devoted race! [A flourish of trumpets. Enter TIGRANES, Soldiers, and some Prisoners. Zen. Thy looks, Tigranes, indicate thy purpose! The armies met, and Pharasmanes conquered; Is it not so? Tig. As yet with pent-up fury The soldier pants to let destruction loose. Of havock in that scene of blood and horror, Which rises thick near yonder ridge of moun And stretches o'er the interminable plain, They suffer death in misery of torment. Zen. Unhappy men! and must they--ha? " That aged mien! that venerable form! Meg. Ariana here! Gods! could I ever hope to see her more? Meg. Rise, Ariana, rise-almighty gods! Have I then found thee? do I thus behold thee! Zen. Thou best of men! These joys our tears and looks can only speak. You bid the storms o'ercast our darksome ways; But for a moment, and then part for ever! 451 To meet thee here, only to grieve thee more, dwells, all! Thy sense of noble deeds-imputed guilt! Tig. If in the conscious forest I beheld Zen. Peace, vile slanderer, peace! Thou know'st who captivates a monarch's heart -Ariana does it! 'Tis I protect him- [Exit ZEN. with MEG. Tig. With what wild fury her conflicting passions Rise to a storm, a tempest of the soul! Zel. Beware, Tigranes! that excess of joy, Tig. True, she rules him Zel. Nay, more to wake thy fears- Tig. Unguarded man! Whate'er he loves or hates, with generous As nature prompts, that dares he to avow, Zel. Her foe, Tigranes! That lovely form enshrines the gentlest virtues, like notes! prince, Spare an old man, whose head is white with age, Nor let them wound me with the sharpest pang, That ever tortur'd a poor bleeding heart! Ter. Arise, my fair; let not a storm of grief Thus bend to earth my Ariana's beauties; Soon shall they all revive Zen. They brought him fettered, Bound like a murderer! Tigranes, he, This is the author of the horrid chargeHe threatens instant death-but oh! protect, Protect an innocent, a good old man, Or stretch me with him on the mournful bier! Ter. By Heaven, whoe'er he is, since dear to you, He shall not suffer-quick, direct me to him— My guards shall safe inclose him. Zen. In my pavilion He waits his doom Ter. Myself will bear the tidings Thou vile defamer! leave thy treacherous arts, That good old man !-oh! it was he beheld me Borne far away from Rhadamistus' arms, Just perished, just lost!. He dashed into the flood, redeemed me thence, And brought me back to life. My opening eyes Just saw the light, and closed again to shun it Each vital power was sunk; but he, well ska In potent herbs, recalled my fluttering soul. Zel. May the propitious gods reward his care! Zen. With me he saved a dear, a precious bos Then in the womb concealed; he saved y child To trace his father's loved resemblance to me, The dear, dear offspring of our bridal loves. Zel. Oh, blessings on him, blessings on h head! Zen. Resigned and patient I since dwelt with Far in the mazes of a winding wood, My infant Rhadamistus! he is lost; |