Thy savage heart ne'er felt the dear delights
Of filial tenderness-the thousand joys

That flow from blessing and from being bless'd!
No didst thou love thy father as I love him,
Our kindred souls would be in unison;

And all my sighs be echoed back by thine.
Thou wouldst-alas !-I know not what I say.—
Forgive me, Publius,-but, indeed, my brother,
I do not understand this cruel coldness.

Ham. Thou mayst not-but I understand it well. His mighty soul, full as to thee it seems

Of Rome, and glory-is enamour'd-caught-
Enraptur'd with the beauties of fair Barce.-
She stays behind, if Regulus departs.

Behold the cause of all the well-feign'd virtue
Of this mock patriot-curst dissimulation!
Pub. And canst thou entertain such vile sus-
picions?

Gods! what an outrage to a son like me.

Ham. Yes, Roman: now I see thee as thou art, Thy naked soul divested of its veil,

Its specious colouring, its dissembled virtues :
Thou hast plotted with the senate to prevent
Th' exchange of captives. All thy subtle arts,
Thy smooth inventions, have been set to work-—
The base refinements of your polish'd land.

Pub. In truth, the doubt is worthy of an African (Contemptuously.

Ham. I know

Pub. Peace, Carthaginian, peace, and hear me, Didst thou not know, that on the very man Thou hast insulted, Barce's fate depends?

Ham. Too well I know, the cruel chance of war Gave her, a blooming captive, to thy mother; Who, dying, left the beauteous prize to thee

Pub. Now, see the use a Roman makes of power. Heav'n is my witness how I lov'd the maid! O she was dearer to my soul than light!

Dear as the vital stream that feeds my heart!
But know my honour's dearer than my love.
I do not even hope thou wilt believe me;
Thy brutal soul, as savage as thy clime,
Can never taste those elegant delights,
Those pure refinements, love and glory yield.
'Tis not to thee I stoop for vindication,
Alike to me thy friendship or thy hate;
But to remove from others a pretence
For branding Publius with the name of villain;
That they may see no sentiment but honour
Informs this bosom.-Barce, thou art free.
Thou hast my leave with him to quit this shore.
Now learn, barbarian, how a Roman loves!
Bar. He cannot mean it!
Ham.
Which challenges esteem though from a foe.

[Exit.

Oh exalted virtue!

(Looking after Publius. All. Ah! cruel Publius, wilt thou leave me thus ? Thus leave thy sister?

Bar.

Didst thou hear Hamilcar? Oh! didst thou hear the godlike youth resign me? (Hamilcar and Licinius seem lost in thought.) Ham. Farewell, I will return.

Lic.

Farewell, my love! (to Attilia.)

Bar. Hamilcar, where—

Att.

Alas! where art thou going?

(to Licinius.)

Lic. If possible, to save the life of Regulus.

Att. But by what means!—Ah! how canst thou

effect it?

Lic. Since the disease so desperate is become, We must apply a desperate remedy.

Ham. (after a long pause.) Yes, I will mortify this generous foe;

I'll be reveng'd upon this stubborn Roman;
Not by defiance bold, or feats of arms,

But by a means more sure to work its end;

By emulating his exalted worth,
And shewing him a virtue like his own;
Such a refin'd revenge as noble minds
Alone can practise, and alone can feel.
Att. If thou wilt go, Licinius, let Attilia
At least go with thee.

Lic.
No, my gentle love,
Too much I prize thy safety and thy peace.
Let me entreat thee, stay with Barce here
Till our return.

Att.

Then, ere ye go, in pity

Explain the latent purpose of your souls.

Lic. Soon shalt thou know it all-Farewell!

farewell!

Let us keep Regulus in Rome, or die.

(to Hamilcar as he goes out.) Ham. Yes. These smooth, polish'd Romans shall confess

The soil of Afric too produces heroes.

What, though our pride perhaps be less than theirs,
Our virtue may be equal: they shall own
The path of honour's not unknown to Carthage,
Nor, as they arrogantly think, confin'd

To their proud capitol:-Yes, they shall learn

The gods look down on other climes than theirs.

[Exit. Att. What! gone, both gone? What can I think or do ?

Licinius leaves me, led by love and virtue
To rouse the citizens to war and tumult,
Which may be fatal to himself and Rome,
And yet, alas! not serve my dearest father.
Protecting deities! preserve them both!

Bar. Nor is thy Barce more at ease, my friend ;
I dread the fierceness of Hamilcar's courage;
Rous'd by the grandeur of thy brother's deed,
And stung by his reproaches, his great soul
Will scorn to be outdone by him in glory.

Yet, let us rise to courage and to life,
Forget the weakness of our helpless sex,
And mount above these coward woman's fears.
Hope dawns upon my mind-my prospect clears,
And every cloud now brightens into day.

Att. How different are our souls! Thy sanguine temper,

Flush'd with the native vigour of thy soil,
Supports thy spirits; while the sad Attilia,
Sinking with more than all her sex's fears,
Sees not a beam of hope; or, if she sees it,
'Tis not the bright, warm splendour of the sun;
It is a sickly and uncertain glimmer,
Of instantaneous light'ning, passing by.
It shews, but not diminishes the danger,
And leaves my poor benighted soul as dark
As it had never shone.

Bar.

Come, let us go.

Yes, joys unlook'd for now shall gild thy days,
And brighter suns reflect propitious rays.

[Exeunt.

SCENE-A Hall looking towards the Garden.

Enter REGULUS speaking to one of HAMILCAR'S attendants.

Where's your ambassador! where is Hamilcar? Ere this he doubtless knows the senate's will. Go seek him out-tell him we must departRome has no hope for him, or wish for me. Longer delay were criminal in both.

Enter MANLIUS.

Reg. He comes. The Consul comes ! my noble friend!

O let me strain thee to this grateful heart,

And thank thee for the vast, vast debt I owe thee!

But for thy friendship I had been a wretch-
Had been compell'd to shameful liberty.
To thee I owe the glory of these chains,
My faith inviolate, my fame preserv'd,
My honour, virtue, glory, bondage,-all!

Man. But we shall lose thee, so it is decreedThou must depart ?

Reg.

Because I must depart You will not lose me; I were lost indeed Did I remain in Rome.

Man.

Ah! Regulus,

Why, why so late do I begin to love thee?
Alas! why have the adverse fates decreed,
I ne'er must give thee other proofs of friendship,
Than those, so fatal, and so full of woe?

Reg. Thou hast perform'd the duties of a friend ;
Of a just, faithful, true, and noble friend :
Yet, generous as thou art, if thou constrain me
To sink beneath a weight of obligation,

I could—yes, Manlius-I could ask still more.
Man. Explain thyself.

Reg.

I think I have fulfill'd

The various duties of a citizen;

Nor have I aught beside to do for Rome.
Now, nothing for the public good remains.
Manlius, I recollect I am a father!

My Publius! my Attilia! ah! my friend,
They are (forgive the weakness of a parent)
my
fond heart dear as the drops that warm it.
Next to my country, they're my all of life;

Το

And, if a weak old man be not deceiv'd,

They will not shame that country. Yes, my friend,
The love of virtue blazes in their souls.

As yet these tender plants are immature,
And ask the fostering hand of cultivation :
Heav'n in its wisdom would not let their father
Accomplish this great work. To thee, my friend,
The tender parent delegates the trust :