Oh! spare his sacred, venerable head; Yet if, Eternal Powers who rule this ball! ACT IV. SCENE.-Gallery in the Ambassador's Palace. Reg. (alone). Be calm my soul! what strange emotions shake thee? Emotions thou hast never felt till now. Yet, now thou tremblest, fearful and dismay'd, called 'Tis the soul's tyrant, that should be dethron'd, And learn subjection like her other passions! Ah! no! 'tis false: this is the coward's plea ; The lazy language of refining vice. That man was born in vain, whose wish to serve Absorbs the selfish in the social claims, From peril, fear; plucks out the sting from death; And teaches men to imitate the gods. It shews, but see, alas! where Publius comes. And step irresolute. Reg. Enter PUBLIUS. My Publius, welcome! What tidings dost thou bring? What says the Senate? Would I were rather dumb? Reg. Publius, no more delay :-I charge thee speak. Pub. The Senate has decreed you shall depart. Reg. Blest spirit of Rome! thou hast at last prevail'd I thank the gods, I have not liv'd in vain! Pub. Ah, my unhappy father! Reg. Unhappy, Publius! didst thou say unhappy? Does he, does that blest man deserve this name, Who to his latest breath can serve his country? Pub. Like thee, my father, I adore my country, Yet weep with anguish o'er thy cruel chains. Reg. Dost thou not know that life's a slavery? The body is the chain that binds the soul; A yoke that every mortal must endure. Wouldst thou lament-lament the general fate, The chain that nature gives, entail'd on all, Not these I wear. Pub. Forgive, forgive my sorrows: I know, alas! too well, those fell barbarians Reg. So shall my life And servitude together have an end.— Publius, farewell! nay, do not follow me. Pub. Alas! my father, if thou ever lov'dst me, Refuse me not the mournful consolation To pay the last sad offices of duty I e'er can shew thee. Reg. No!-thou can'st fulfil Thy duty to thy father in a way More grateful to him: I must straight embark. My lov'd Attilia from a sight, I fear, Would rend her gentle heart.-Her tears, my son, To bear misfortune. O, indulge her weakness! I leave my daughter to thee-I do more- -Ah, Publius! I perceive thy courage fails- [Exit. Enter ATTILIA and BARCE. Att. My brother, I'm distracted, wild with fearTell me, O tell me, what I dread to know Is it, then, true?—I cannot speak-my father? It is determin'd. Regulus must go. Yes, Barce. Att. Immortal powers!-What say'st thou ? Thou can'st not mean it. Att. Then you've all betrayed me. Pub. Thy grief avails not. Bar. Enter HAMILCAR and LICINIUS. Pity us, Hamilcar ! Att. Oh, help, Licinius, help the lost Attilia! Ham. My Barce! there's no hope. Lic. All's lost! Att. Ah! my fair mourner, What all, Licinius? said'st thou all? Not one poor glimpse of comfort left behind? The daughter shall partake the father's chains, (Going. Pub. What would thy wild despair? Attilia, stay, Thou must not follow; this excess of grief Would much offend him. Att. Dost thou hope to stop me? Pub. I hope thou wilt resume thy better self, And recollect thy father will not bear Att. I only recollect I am a daughter, A poor, defenceless, helpless, wretched daughter! Away—and let me follow. He Pub. No, my sister. Att. Detain me not-Ah! while thou hold'st me here, goes, and I shall never see him more Bar. My friend, be comforted, he cannot go Att. Ham. Rage and astonishment divide my soul. Wouldst thou instruct me how. Att. My brother, too Ah! look with mercy on thy sister's woes! Pub. I will at least instruct thee how to bear them. My sister-yield thee to thy adverse fate; Has he not taught thee how to brave misfortune? Att. And is it thus thou dost advise thy sister? Are these, ye gods, the feelings of a son? |