Att. Oh feeble grasp!-and is he gone, quite

gone?

Hold, hold thy empire, reason, firmly hold it,

Or rather quit at once thy feeble throne,

Since thou but serv'st to shew me what I've lost,
To heighten all the horrors that await me;
To summon up a wild, distracted crowd
Of fatal images, to shake my soul,

To scare sweet peace, and banish hope itself.
Farewell! delusive dreams of joy, farewell!
Come, fell despair! thou pale-eyed spectre, come,
For thou shalt be Attilia's inmate now,

And thou shalt grow, and twine about her heart,
And she shall be so much enamour'd of thee,
The pageant pleasure ne'er shall interpose
Her gaudy presence to divide you more.

(stands in an attitude of silent grief.)

Enter LICINIUS.

Lic. At length I've found thee-ah, my charming maid!

How have I sought thee out with anxious fondness! Alas! she hears me not. My best Attilia!

Ah! grief oppresses every gentle sense.

Still, still she hears not-'tis Licinius speaks,
He comes to soothe the anguish of thy spirit,

And hush thy tender sorrows into peace.

Att. Who's he that dares assume the voice of love,

And comes unbidden to these dreary haunts?
Steals on the sacred treasury of woe,

And breaks the league despair and I have made ?
Lic. 'Tis one who comes the messenger of Heav'n,

To talk of peace, of comfort, and of joy.

Att. Didst thou not mock me with the sound of joy?

Thou little know'st the anguish of my soul,

If thou believ'st I ever can again,

So long the wretched sport of angry fortune,
Admit delusive hope to my sad bosom.
No-I abjure the flatterer and her train.
Let those, who ne'er have been like me deceiv'd,
Embrace the fair fantastic sycophant-

For I, alas! am wedded to despair,

And will not hear the sound of comfort more.

Lic. Cease, cease, my love, this tender voice of wo, Though softer than the dying cygnet's plaint: She ever chants her most melodious strain When death and sorrow harmonize her note.

Att. Yes, I will listen now with fond delight; For death and sorrow are my darling themes. Well!--what hast thou to say of death and sorrow? Believe me, thou wilt find me apt to listen, And, if my tongue be slow to answer thee, Instead of words I'll give thee sighs and tears. Lic. I come to dry thy tears, not make them flow; The gods once more propitious smile upon us, Joy shall again await each happy morn, And ever-new delight shall crown the day! Yes, Regulus shall live.

Att.

Ah, me! what say'st thou ?
Alas! I'm but a poor, weak, trembling woman—
I cannot bear these wild extremes of fate-
Then mock me not. I think thou art Licinius,
The generous lover, and the faithful friend!
I think thou wouldst not sport with my afflictions.
Lic. Mock thy afflictions? May eternal Jove,
And every power at whose dread shrine we worship,
Blast all the hopes my fond ideas form,

If I deceive thee! Regulus shall live,
Shall live to give thee to Licinius' arms.
Oh! we will smooth his downward path of life,
And after a long length of virtuous years,
At the last verge of honourable age,

When nature's glimmering lamp goes gently out,
We'll close, together close, his eyes in peace,

Together drop the sweetly-painful tear,
Then copy out his virtues in our lives.
Att. And shall we be so blest? is't possible?
Forgive me, my Licinius, if I doubt thee.
Fate never gave such exquisite delight
As flattering hope hath imaged to thy soul.
But how? Explain this bounty of the gods.

Lic. Thou know'st what influence the name of tribune

Gives its possessor o'er the people's minds:
That power I have exerted, nor in vain ;
All are prepar'd to second my designs :
The plot is ripe-there's not a man but swears
To keep thy godlike father here in Rome-
To save his life at hazard of his own.

Att. By what gradation does my joy ascend!
I thought that if my father had been sav'd
By any means, I had been rich in bliss:
But that he lives, and lives preserv'd by thee,
Is such a prodigality of fate,

I cannot bear my joy with moderation :

Heaven should have dealt it with a scantier hand, And not have shower'd such plenteous blessings

on me;

They are too great, too flattering to be real;
'Tis some delightful vision which enchants,
And cheats my senses, weaken'd by misfortune.
Lic. We'll seek thy father, and, meanwhile, my
fair,

Compose thy sweet emotions ere thou see'st him.
Pleasure itself is painful in excess;

For joys, like sorrows, in extreme, oppress:
The gods themselves our pious cares approve,
And to reward our virtue, crown our love.

ACT V.

An Apartment in the Ambassador's palace-Guards and other attendants seen at a distance.

Ham. WHERE is this wondrous man, this match-
less hero,

This arbiter of kingdoms and of kings,
This delegate of Heaven, this Roman god?
I long to shew his soaring mind an equal,
And bring it to the standard of humanity.
What pride, what glory will it be to fix
An obligation on his stubborn soul!
Oh! to constrain a foe to be obliged!
The very thought exalts me e'en to rapture.
Enter REGULUS and Guards.

Ham. Well, Regulus! At last-
Reg.
I know it all;
I know the motive of thy just complaint—
Be not alarm'd at this licentious uproar
Of the mad populace. I will depart-
Fear not; I will not stay in Rome alive.

Ham. What dost thou mean by uproar and
alarms?

Hamilcar does not come to vent complaints;

He rather comes to prove, that Afric too

Produces heroes, and that Tiber's banks
May find a rival on the Punic coast.

Reg. Be it so.-'Tis not a time for vain debate:

Collect thy people.-Let us strait depart.
Ham. Lend me thy hearing first.

Reg.

O patience, patience!

Ham. It is esteem'd a glory to be grateful?

Reg, The time has been when 'twas a duty only,

But 'tis a duty now so little practis'd,

That to perform it is become a glory.

Ham. If to fulfil it should expose to danger?-
Reg. It rises then to an illustrious virtue.
Ham. Then grant this merit to an African.
Give me a patient hearing-Thy great son,
As delicate in honor as in love,

Hath nobly given my Barce to my arms;
And yet I know he doats upon the maid.
I come to emulate the generous deed;
He gave me back my love, and in return
I will restore his father.

Reg.

Ah! what say'st thou ?

Wilt thou preserve me then?

Ham.

Reg.

I will.

But how?

Ah!

Ham. By leaving thee at liberty to fly.

Reg.

Ham. I will dismiss my guards on some pretence, Meanwhile do thou escape, and lie conceal'd :

I will affect a rage I shall not feel,

Unmoor my ships, and sail for Africa.

Reg. Abhorr'd barbarian!

Ham.

Well, what dost thou say?

I am indeed.

Art thou not much surpris'd?

Reg.

Ham. Thou couldst not then have hoped it ?

Reg.

No! I could not.

Ham. And yet I'm not a Roman.

Reg. (smiling contemptuously.) I perceive it.
Ham. You may retire. (aloud to the guards.)
Reg. No-Stay, I charge you, stay.

Ham. And wherefore stay?