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A slender, unimportant acquisition,
If, in return for this extended empire,
The freedom of thy father be the purchase?
These are the feelings of imperial Rome;
My own, it were superfluous to declare.
For if Licinius were to weigh his merit,
That he's thy father were sufficient glory.
He was my leader, train'd me up to arms;
And, if I boast a spark of Roman honour,
I owe it to his precepts and his virtues.

Att. And yet I have not seen Licinius stir.
Lic. Ah! spare me thy reproaches-what, when
late

A private citizen, cou'd I attempt?

'Twas not the lust of power, or pride of rank,
Which made me seek the dignity of tribune;
No, my Attilia, but I fondly hop'd

"Twould strengthen and enforce the just request,
Which, as a private man, I vainly urg'd;
But now, the people's representative,
I shall demand, Attilia, to be heard.

Att. Ah! let us not too hastily apply
This dangerous remedy; I would not rouse
Fresh tumults 'twixt the people and the senate :
Each views with jealousy the idol, power,
Which, each possessing, would alike abuse.
What one demands, the other still denies.
Might I advise you, try a gentler method;
I know that every moment Rome expects
Th' ambassador of Carthage, nay, 'tis said
The conscript fathers are already met
To give him audience in Bellona's temple.
There might the consul at my suit, Licinius,
Propose the ransom of my captive father.

Lic. Ah! think, Attilia, who that consul is,
Manlius, thy father's rival, and his foe:
His ancient rival, and his foe profess'd:
To hope in him, my fair, were fond delusion.

Att. Yet tho' his rival, Manlius, is a Roman :
Nor will he think of private enmities,

Weigh'd in the balance with the good of Rome,
Let me at least make trial of his honour.

Lic. Be it so, my fair! but elsewhere make thy suit;

Let not the consul meet Attilia here,

Confounded with the refuse of the people.

Att. Yes, I will see him here, e'en here, Licinius. Let Manlius blush, not me: here will I speak, Here shall he answer me.

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Att.

Know, my Licinius, That at this moment I am all the daughter, The filial feelings now possess my soul,

And other passions find no entrance there.

Lic. O sweet, yet powerful influence of virtue, That charms though cruel, though unkind subdues, And what was love exalts to admiration!

Yes, 'tis the privilege of souls like thine

To conquer most when least they aim at conquest.
Yet, ah! vouchsafe to think upon Licinius,
Nor fear to rob thy father of his due;
For surely virtue and the gods approve
Unwearied constancy and spotless love.

Enter MANLIUS.

[Exit LICINIUS.

Att. Ah! Manlius, stay, a moment stay, and hear me.

Man. I did not think to meet thee here, Attilia;

The place so little worthy of the guest.

Att. It would, indeed, have ill become Attilia, While still her father was a Roman citizen;

But for the daughter of a slave to Carthage,
It surely is most fitting.

Man.

Say, Attilia,

What is the purpose of thy coming hither?

Att. What is the purpose, patience, pitying
Heaven!

Tell me, how long, to Rome's eternal shame,
To fill with horror all the wond'ring world,
My father still must groan in Punic chains,
And waste the tedious hours in cruel bondage?
Days follow days, and years to years succeed,
And Rome forgets her hero, is content
That Regulus be a forgotten slave.
What is his crime? is it that he preferr'd
His country's profit to his children's good?
Is it th' unshaken firmness of his soul,
Just, uncorrupt, and, boasting, let me speak it,
Poor in the highest dignities of Rome?
Illustrious crime! O glorious poverty!

Man. But know, Attilia

Att.

O, have patience with me.

And can ungrateful Rome so soon forget?
Can those who breathe the air he breath'd forget
The great, the godlike virtues of my father?
There's not a part of Rome but speaks his praise.
The streets-thro' them the hero pass'd triumphant:
The forum-there the legislator plann'd

The wisest, purest laws-the senate house-
There spoke the patriot Roman-there his voice
Secur'd the public safety: Manlius, yes;
The wisdom of his councils match'd his valour.
Enter the temples-mount the capitol-
And tell me, Manlius, to what hand but his
They owe their trophies, and their ornaments,
Their foreign banners, and their boasted ensigns,
Tarentine, Punic, and Sicilian spoils ?
Nay, e'en those lictors who precede thy steps,
This consul's purple which invests thy limbs,

All, all were Regulus's, were my father's.
And yet this hero, this exalted patriot,
This man of virtue, this immortal Roman,
In base requital for his services,

Is left to linger out a life in chains,

No honours paid him but a daughter's tears.
O Rome! O Regulus! O thankless citizens!
Man. Just are thy tears :-thy father well de-
serves them;

But know thy censure is unjust, Attilia.
The fate of Regulus is felt by all:

We know and mourn the cruel woes he suffers
From barbarous Carthage.

Att.
Manlius, you mistake;
Alas! it is not Carthage which is barbarous ;
'Tis Rome, ungrateful Rome, is the barbarian ;
Carthage but punishes a foe profess'd,

But Rome betrays her hero and her father:
Carthage remembers how he slew her sons,
But Rome forgets the blood he shed for her:
Carthage revenges an acknowledged foe,
But Rome with basest perfidy rewards

The glorious hand that bound her brow with laurels.

Which now is the barbarian, Rome or Carthage?
Man. What can be done?

Att.

A woman shall inform you. Convene the senate; let them straight propose

A ransom, or exchange for Regulus,

To Africa's ambassador. Do this,

And heav'n's best blessings crown your days with peace.

Man. Thou speakest like a daughter, I, Attilia, Must as a consul act; I must consult

The good of Rome, and with her good, her glory.
Would it not tarnish her unspotted fame,
To sue to Carthage on the terms thou wishest?

Att. Ah! rather own thou'rt still my father's foe.

Man. Ungen'rous maid! no fault of mine concurr'd

To his destruction. 'Twas the chance of war.
Farewell! ere this the senate is assembled-
My presence is requir'd.-Speak to the fathers,
And try to soften their austerity;

My rigour they may render vain, for know,
I am Rome's consul, not her king, Attilia.

[Exit MANLIUS with the lictors, &c. Att. (alone.) This flattering hope, alas! has prov❜d abortive.

One consul is our foe, the other absent.
What shall the sad Attilia next attempt?
Suppose I crave assistance from the people!
Ah! my unhappy father, on what hazards,
What strange vicissitudes, what various turns,
Thy life, thy liberty, thy all depends!

Enter BARCE (in haste.)

Bar. Ah, my Attilia!

Att.

Whence this eager haste?

Bar. Th' ambassador of Carthage is arriv'd.

Att. And why does that excite such wondrous transport?

Bar. I bring another cause of greater still.

Att. Name it, my Barce.

Bar.

Regulus comes with him.

Thy father-Regulus.

Att. My father! can it be?

Bar.

Att. Thou art deceiv'd, or thou deceiv'st thy

friend.

Bar. Indeed I saw him not, but every tongue

Speaks the glad tidings.

Att.

Enter PUBLIus.

See where Publius comes.

Pub. My sister, I'm transported! Oh Attilia, He's here, our father-Regulus is come!

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