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ZENOBIA.

BY

MURPHY.

PROLOGUE.

Or old, when Rome, in a declining age,
Of lawless power had felt the barb'rous rage,
This was the tyrant's part-he gave a prize
To him who a new pleasure could devise.

Ye tyrants of the pit, whose cold disdain
Rejects and nauseates the repeated strain;
Who call for rarities to quicken sense,
Say, do you always the reward dispense?

Ye bards, to whom French wit gives kind relief,
Are ye not of the first-to cry, stop thief?
Say, to a brother do you e'er allow

One little sprig, one leaf to deck his brow?
No-fierce invective stuns the playwright's ears,
Wits, Poets-Corner, Ledgers, Gazetteers!
'Tis said the Tartar, ere he pierce the heart,
Inscribes his name upon the poisoned dart.
That scheme's rejected by each scribbling spark;
Our Christian system-stabs you in the dark.
And yet the desp' rate author of to-night
Dares, on the muse's wing, another flight;
Once more, a dupe to fame, forsakes his ease,
And feeds the ambition-here again to please.

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,
And sung a dirge to her lamented shade.

Yet think not that we mean to mock the eye
With pilfered colours of a foreign dye.
Not to translate, our bard his pen doth dip;
He takes a play, as Britons take a ship:
They heave her down: with many a sturdy stroke,
Repair her well, and build with heart of oak;
To every breeze set Britain's streamers free,
New-man her, and away again to sea.

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.

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SCENE,-Lies in Pharasmanes' Camp, on the Banks of the Araxes.

4

SCENE I.

ACT I.

Zel. THROUGH the wide camp 'tis awful so-
litude!

On every tent, which, at the morning's dawn,
Rung with the din of arms, deep silence sits,
Adding new terrors to the dreadful scene!
My heart dies in me!-hark! with hideous roar
The turbulent Araxes foams along,
And rolls his torrent through yon depth of woods!
'Tis terrible to hear!-who's there?-Zopiron !
Enter ZOPIRON.

Zel. My lord, my husband!—help me; lend
your aid!

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,
With consternation, peril, and dismay!
And oh! if here, while yet the fate of nations,
Suspended, hangs upon the doubtful sword,
If here the trembling heart thus shrink with
horror,

Here in these tents, in this unpeopled camp,
Oh! think, Zopiron, in yon field of death,
Where numbers soon in purple heaps shall bleed,
What feelings there must throb in every breast?
How long, ambition, wilt thou stalk the earth,
And thus lay waste mankind!

Zop. This day, at length,

The warlike king, victorious Pharasmanes,
Closes the scene of war. The Roman bands
But ill can cope with the embattled numbers
Asia pours forth, a firm, undaunted host!
A nation under arms! and every bosom
To deeds of glory fired!--Iberia then--
Zel. Perish Iberia !--may the sons of Rome
Pour rapid vengeance on her falling ranks,
That he, who tramples on the rights of nature,
May see his vassals overwhelmed in ruin,
May from yon field be led in sullen chains,
To grace the triumph of imperial Rome,
And from the assembled senate humbly learn
The dictates of humanity and justice!

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
tive,

The afflicted Ariana-she--for her,
For that fair excellence my bosom bleeds!
She, in the prime of every blooming grace,
When next the glowing hour of riot comes,
Shall fall a victim to his base desires.

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

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cour;

Support her; help her;-lo! the attendant train
Have caught her in their arms !---Assist her,
Heaven,

Assuage the sorrows of her gentle spirit!
Her fluttering sense returns ;---and now this way
The virgins lead her. May the avenging gods,
In pity of the woes such virtue feels,
In pity of the wrongs a world endures,
With power resistless arm the Roman legions,
That they may hurl, in one collected blow,
Assured destruction on the tyrant's head!

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

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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

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The sceptre of his son !---the solemn right
Of Rhadamistus! Mithridates' choice,
That called him to his daughter's nuptial bed,
Approved him lineal heir; consenting nobles,
The public will, the sanction of the laws,
All ratified his claim-yet, curst ambition,
Deaf to a nation's voice, a nation's charter,
Not satisfied to fill Iberia's throne,
Made war, unnatural war, against a son,
Usurped his throne, and, with remorseless rage,
Pursued his life!

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.
As yet an infant, in his tenderest years
His father sent him to Armenia's court,
That Mithridates' care might form his mind
To arts, to wisdom, and to manners, worthy
Armenia's sceptre, and Zenobia's love.
The world, delighted, saw each dawning virtue,
Each nameless grace, to full perfection rising!--
Oh! he was all the fondest maid could wish---
All truth, all honour, tenderness, and love!
Yet, from his empire thrown! with merciless fury
His father following-slaughter raging round,
What could the hero in that dire extreme!

Zel. Those strong impassioned looks!—some
fatal secret

Works in her heart, and melts her into tears.

[Aside.

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And sought a requiem in the roaring flood.
Zel-This wondrous tale-this sudden burst
of passion-

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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.
With eager speed we urged our rapid march,
To where the Romans, tented in the vale,
With cold delay protract the lingering war.
At our approach their scanty numbers form
of
prey vengeance.
Their feeble lines, the future
Zen. And wherefore, when thy sword demands
its share

Of havock in that scene of blood and horror,
Wherefore return'st thou to this lonely camp?
Tig. With cautious eye as I explored the
forest,

Which rises thick near yonder ridge of moun
tains,

And stretches o'er the interminable plain,
I saw these captives in the gloomy wood,
Seeking, with silent march, the Roman camp.
Impaled alive, 'tis Pharasmanes' will

They suffer death in misery of torment.

Zen. Unhappy men! and must they--ha?
that face,

"

That aged mien! that venerable form!
Immortal powers! is it my more than father!
Is that Megistus?

Meg. Ariana here!

Gods! could I ever hope to see her more?
Thou virtuous maid! thou darling of my age!
Zen. It is it is Megistus! once again,
Thus let me fall and clasp his reverend knee,
Print the warm kiss of gratitude and love
Upon this trembling hand, and pour the tears,
The mingled tears of wonder and of joy!

Meg. Rise, Ariana, rise-almighty gods!
The tide of joy and transport pours too fast
Along these withered veins-it is too much
For a poor weak old man, worn out with grief
And palsied age, it is too much to bear!
Oh! Ariana, daughter of affliction,

Have I then found thee? do I thus behold thee!
Now I can die content!

Zen. Thou best of men!

These joys our tears and looks can only speak.
Meg. Yet they are cruel joys-mysterious
heaven!

You bid the storms o'ercast our darksome ways;
You gild the cloud with gleams of cheering light;
Then comes a breath from you, and all is vanished!
Zen. Wherefore dejected thus-
Meg. Alas! to meet thee

But for a moment, and then part for ever!

451

To meet thee here, only to grieve thee more,
To add to thy afflictions, wound that bosoin
where each virtue
Where mild affection,

dwells,
Just to behold thee, and then close my eyes
In endless night, while you survey my pangs
of torment-
In the approaching agony
Zen. Talk not of agony;
'tis rapture
And who has power to tear thee from my heart?
Meg. Alas! the charge of vile imputed guilt-
Zen. I know thy truth, thy pure exalted
mind-

all!

Thy sense of noble deeds-imputed guilt!
Oh! none will dare-hast thou, Tigranes? what,
What is his crime? blush, foul traducer, blush!
Oh! [To MEG.] the wide world must own thy
every virtue.

Tig. If in the conscious forest I beheld
Their dark complottings-

Zen. Peace, vile slanderer, peace!

Thou know'st who captivates a monarch's heart

-Ariana does it!

'Tis I protect him-
Thou, venerable man! in my pavilion
-oh! this joy,
I'll lodge, thee safe from danger-
This best supreme delight the gods have sent,
In pity for whole years of countless woe!

[Exit ZEN. with MEG. Tig. With what wild fury her conflicting passions

Rise to a storm, a tempest of the soul!
I know the latent cause-her heart revolts,
And leagues in secret with the Roman arms.

Zel. Beware, Tigranes! that excess of joy,
Those quick, those varied passions strongly speak
The stranger has an interest in her heart.
Besides, thou know'st o'er Pharasmanes' will
She holds supreme dominion-

Tig. True, she rules him
With boundless sway-

Zel. Nay, more to wake thy fears-
The youthful prince, the valiant Teribazus,
In secret sighs, and feels the ray of beauty
Through every sense soft-thrilling to his heart.
He too becomes thy foe.

Tig. Unguarded man!

Whate'er he loves or hates, with generous
warmth,

As nature prompts, that dares he to avow,
And lets each passion stand confessed to view;
Such too is Ariana: bold and open,
She kindly gives instructions to her foe,
To mar her best designs.

Zel. Her foe, Tigranes!

That lovely form enshrines the gentlest virtues,
Softest compassion, unaffected wisdom,
To outward beauty lending higher charms,
Adorning and adorned! the generous prince,
He too-full well thou know'st him-he unites
In the heroic mould of manly firmness,
Each mild attractive art-oh! surely none
Envy the fair renown that's earn'd by virtue.
Tig. None should, Zelmira. Ha! those war-

like notes!

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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
Of life, of joy, and liberty restored.-
And thou, artificer of ill, thou false,

Thou vile defamer! leave thy treacherous arts,
Nor dare accuse whom Ariana loves. [Exit TER.
Zen. Zelmira, this is happiness supreme!
Oh! to have met with unexampled goodness,
To owe my all, my very life itself,
To an unknown but hospitable hand,
And thus enabled by the bounteous gods,
To pay the vast, vast debt- -'tis ecstacy
That swells above all bounds, till the fond heart

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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
him,

Far in the mazes of a winding wood,
Midst hoary mountains and deep caverned rock
But oh! the fond idea of my lord
Pursued me still, or in the caverned rock,
The mountain's brow, or pendent forest's glo
The sun looked joyless down; each lonely
Heard my griefs echoing through the woodsal
shade.

My infant Rhadamistus! he is lost;
He, too, is wrested from me!-Midst the rage,
And the wide waste of war, the hell-hound tro
Of Pharismanes sought my lone retreat,
And, from the violated shades, from all
My soul held dear, the barbarous ruffians tore

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