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The gen'rous heart does more: will dare do all That honour prompts.-How dost thou dare to murder?

Respect the gods, and know no other fear.
Phil. No other fear assails this warlike breast.
I pity your misfortunes; yes, by heaven,
My heart bleeds for you. Gods! you've touch'd
my soul!

The gen'rous impulse is not given in vain.
I feel thee, nature, and I dare obey.

Oh! thou hast conquer'd.--Go, Euphrasia, go,
Behold thy father.

Yet mark my words; if aught of nourishment Thou would'st convey, my partners of the watch Will ne'er consent.

Euph. I will observe your orders:

On any terms, oh! let me, let me, see him. Phil. Yon lamp will guide thee through the cavern'd way.

Euph. My heart runs o'er in thanks; the pi

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SCENE II-The inside of the Cavern.

Enter ARCAS and EUPHRASIA.

Are. No; on my life, I dare not.
Euph. But a small,

1 wretched pittance; one poor cordial drop
To renovate exhausted drooping age.
I ask no more.

Arc. Not the smallest store

Of scanty nourishment must pass these walls.
Our lives were forfeit else: a moment's parley
Is all I grant; in yonder cave he lies.
Evan. [Within the Cell.] Oh, struggling na-
ture! let thy conflict end.

Oh! give me, give me, rest.
Euph. My father's voice!

It pierces here! it cleaves my very heart.
I shall expire, and never see him more.
Arc. Repose thee, princess, here, [Draws a
couch] here rest thy limbs,

Till the returning blood shall lend thee firmness. Euph. The caves, the rocks, re-echo to his groans!

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You must be brief, or ruin will ensue. [Exit. Evan. [Raising himself] Oh! when shall I get free?-These ling'ring pangs

Despatch me, pitying gods, and save my child! I burn, I burn; alas! no place of rest:

[Comes out. A little air; once more a breath of air; Alas! I faint; I die.

Euph. Heart-piercing sight! Let me support you, Sir.

Evan. Oh! lend your arm.

Whoe'er thou art, I thank thee; that kind breeze Comes gently o'er my senses-lead me forward: And is there left one charitable hand

To reach its succours to a wretch like me? Euph. Well may'st thou ask it. Oh, my breaking heart!

The hand of death is on him.
Evan. Still a little,

A little onward to the air conduct me;
'Tis well;-I thank thee; thou art kind and good,
And much I wonder at this gen'rous pity..
Euph. Do you not know me, Sir?"
Evan. Methinks, I know

That voice; art thou-alas! my eyes are dim!
Each object swims before me-No, in truth,
I do not know thee.

Euph. Not your own Euphrasia?
Eran. Art thou my daughter?
Euph. Oh, my honour'd sire!

Evan. My daughter, my Euphrasia! come to

close

A father's eyes! Given to my last embrace!
Gods! do I hold her once again? Your mercies
Are without number. [Falls on the couch.

I would pour my praise;
But, oh, your goodness overcomes me quite!
You read my heart; you see what passes there.
Euph. Alas, he faints; the gushing tide of

transport

Bears down each feeble sense: restore him, hea ven!

Evan. All, my Euphrasia, all will soon be well.
Pass but a moment, and this busy globe,
Its thrones, its empires, and its bustling millions,
Will seem a speck in the great void of space.
Yet while I stay, thou darling of my age!
Nay, dry those tears.

Euph. I will, my father.
Eran. Where-

I fear to ask it, where is virtuous Phocion?
Euph. Fled from the tyrant's power.

Evan. And left thee here

Expos'd and helpless?

Euph. He is all truth and honour: He fled to save my child.

Eran. My young Evander!

Your boy is safe, Euphrasia?-Oh! my heart!
Alas! quite gone; worn out with misery;
Oh, weak, decay'd, old man!

Euph. Inhuman wretches!

Will none relieve his want? A drop of water
Might save his life; and even that 's denied him.
Eran. These strong emotions-Oh! that eager
air-

It is too much-assist me; bear me hence;
And lay me down in peace.

Euph. His eyes are fix'd;

And those pale quiv'ring lips! He clasps my

hand:

What, no assistance! Monsters, will you thus Let him expire in these weak, feeble arms?

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Phil. O! I can hold no more at such a sight, Fen the hard heart of tyranny would melt To infant softness. Arcas, go, behold The pious fraud of charity and love; Behold that unexampled goodness; see

Th' expedient sharp necessity has taught her; Thy heart will burn, will melt, will yearn to view A child like her.

Are. Ha!-Say what mystery

Wakes these emotions?

Phil. Wonder-working virtue!

The father foster'd at his daughter's breast!
O, filial piety!-The milk design'd
For her own offspring, on the parent's lip
Allays the parching fever. All her laws
Inverted quite, great nature triumphs still.
Are. The tale unmans my soul.
Phil. Ye tyrants, hear it,

And learn, that, while your cruelty prepares
Unheard-of torture, virtue can keep pace

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[Exit.

Phil. I thank thee, Arcas; we will act like men Who feel for others' woes-She leads him forth, And tremblingly supports his drooping age.

Re-enter EUPHRASIA and EVANDER. Evan. Euphrasia, oh, my child! returning life At the last gasp preserv'd! Ha! dawning light; Glows here about my heart. Conduct me forward! I do indeed: the father sees his child. Let me behold; in faith, I see thee now;

Euph. I have reliev'd him-Oh, the joy's too great; 'Tis speechless rapture!

Evan. Blessings, blessings on thee!
Euph. My father still shall live. Alas! Phi-
lotas,

Could I abandon that white, hoary head,
That venerable form?-Abandon him
To perish here in misery and famine?
Phil. Thy tears, thou miracle of goodness!
Have triumph'd o'er me. Take him, take your

father;

Convey him hence; I do release him to you.
Evan. What said Philotas? Do I fondly dream?
Methought I heard him! Did he say, release me?
Indeed, my senses are imperfect; yet
Phil. Thou art my king, and now no more my
pris'ner:

tern

Go with your daughter, with that wondrous pat-
Of filial piety to after times.

Yes, princess, lead him forth; I'll point the path,
Whose soft declivity will guide your steps
To the deep vale, which these o'erhanging rocks
Encompass round. You may convey him thence
To some safe shelter. Yet a moment's pause;
Yes, I will save, or perish in their cause. [Exit.
I must conceal your flight from ev'ry eye.
Eran. Whither, oh! whither shall Evander go?
I'm at the goal of life; if in the race

Honour has follow'd with no ling'ring step,
But there sits smiling with her laurell'd wreath
To crown my brow, there would I fain make halt,
And not inglorious lay me down to rest.

Euph. And will you then refuse, when thus the gods

Afford a refuge to thee?

Evan. Oh! my child,

There is no refuge for me.

Euph. Pardon, Sir:

Euphrasia's care has form'd a safe retreat;
There mays't thou dwell; it will not long be
wanted.

Soon shall Timoleon, with resistless force,
Burst yon devoted walls.
Eran. Timoleon!
Euph. Yes,

The brave Timoleon with the power of Greece;
Another day shall make the city his.

Eran Timoleon come to vindicate my rights: Oh! thou shalt reign in Sicily! my child

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Do you, whose youthful spirit glows with life,
Do you go forth, and leave this mould'ring corpse.
To me had heaven decreed a longer date,
It ne'er had suffer'd a fell monster's reign,
Nor let me see the carnage of my people.
Farewell, Euphrasia; in one lov'd embrace
To these remains pay the last obsequies,
And leave me here to sink to silent dust.
Euph. And will you then, on self-destruction
bent,

Reject my prayer, nor trust your fate with me? Evan. Trust thee! Euphrasia? Trust in thee, my child?

Though life's a burden I could well lay down,
Yet I will prize it, since bestow'd by thee,
Oh! thou art good; thy virtue soars a flight
For the wide world to wonder at; in thee,
Hear it all nature, future ages hear it,

The father finds a parent in his child. [Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I-A Rampart near the Harbour.

Enter DIONISIUS and Officers.

Dion. Base deserters! Curse on their Punic faith! Did they once dare To grapple with the Greek? Ere yet the main Was ting'd with blood, they turn'd their ships

averse.

May storms and tempests follow in their rear, And dash their fleet upon the Libyan shore!

Enter CALIPPUS.

Cal. My liege, Timoleon, where the harbour opens,

Has storm'd the forts, and even now his fleet
Pursues its course, and steers athwart the bay.
Through ev'ry street

Despair and terror fly. A panic spreads
From man to man, and superstition sees
Jove arm'd with thunder, and the gods against us.
Dion. With sacred rites their wrath must be
appeas'd.

Let instant victims at the altar bleed;

Let incense roll its fragrant clouds to heaven,
And pious matrons and the virgin train,
In slow procession to the temple bear

The image of their gods.

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A heart that's torn, that's mangled with remorse:
Even victory itself plants anguish here,
And round my laurels the fell serpent twines.
Phil. Would Dionysius abdicate his crown,
And sue for terms of peace?

Dion. Detested thought!

No, though ambition teem with countless ills,
It still has charms of power to fire the soul.
Though horrors multiply around my head,
I will oppose them all. The pomp of sacrifice,
But now ordain'd, is mockery to heaven.
"Tis vain, 'tis fruitless; then let daring guilt
Be my inspirer, and consummate all.
Where are those Greeks, the captives of my sword,
Whose desp'rate valour rush'd within our walls,
Fought near our person, and the pointed lance
Aim'd at my breast?

Phil. In chains they wait their doom.
Dion. Give me to see 'em; bring the slaves be-
fore me.

Phil. What, ho! Melanthon, this way lead your prisoners.

Enter MELANTHON, with GREEK SOLDIERS, and PHOCION.

Dion. Assassins, and not warriors! do ye come, When the wide range of battle claims your sword, Thus do you come against a single life To wage the war? did not our buckler ring With all your darts in one collected volley Shower'd on my head? did not your swords at

once

Point at my breast, and thirst for regal blood? Greek Offi. We sought thy life. I am by birth a Greek.

An open foe in arms, I meant to slay
The foe of humankind. With rival ardour
We took the field: one voice, one mind, one heart,
All leagu'd, all covenanted: in yon camp
Spirits there are who aim, like us, at glory.
Whene'er you sally forth, whene'er the Greeks
Shall scale your walls, prepare thee to encounter
A like assault. By me the youth of Greece
Thus notify the war they mean to wage.

Dion. Thus then I warn them of my great revenge.

Whoe'er in battle shall become our pris'ner,
In torments meets his doom.

Greek Offi. Then wilt thou see

How vile the body to a mind that pants

For genuine glory. Twice three hundred Greeks Have sworn, like us, to hunt thee through the

ranks;

Ours the first lot; we've fail'd; on yonder plain Appear in arms, the faithful band will meet thee. Dion. Vile slave, no more. Melanthon, drag

'em hence

To die in misery. Impall'd alive,

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Th' event of ling'ring war? with patience count
The lazy-pacing hours, while here in Syracuse
The tyrant keeps all that my heart holds dear?
For her dear sake all danger sinks before me;
For her I burst the barriers of the gate,
Where the deep cavern'd rock affords a passage.
A hundred chosen Greeks pursu'd my steps:
We forc'd an entrance; the devoted guard
Fell victims to our rage; but in that moment
Down from the walls superior numbers came.
The tyrant led them on. We rush'd upon him,
If we could reach his heart, to end the war.
But heaven thought otherwise. Melanthon, say,
I fear to ask it, lives Evander still?

Mel. Alas! he lives imprison'd in the rock. Thou must withdraw thee hence; regain once.

more

Timoleon's camp; alarm his slumb'ring rage;
Assail the walls; thou with thy phalanx seek
The subterraneous path; that way at night
The Greeks may enter, and let in destruction
On the astonish'd foe.

Pho. Would'st thou have me
Basely retreat while my Euphrasia trembies
Here on the ridge of peril?

Mel. Yet hear the voice

Of sober age. Should Dionysius' spies
Detect thee here, ruin involves us all:
Thy voice may rouse Timoleon to th' assault,
And bid him storm the works.

Pho. By heaven, I will;

My breath shall wake his rage; this very night, When sleep sits heavy on the slumb'ring city, Then Greece unsheaths her sword, and great re

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Enter EUPHRASIA, ERIXENĖ, and other Female Attendants.

Euph. This way my virgins, this way bend your steps.

Lo! the sad sepulchre, where, hears'd in death,
The pale remains of my dear mother lie.
There, while the victims at your altar bleed,
And with your prayers the vaulted roof resounds,
There let me pay the tribute of a tear,
A weeping pilgrim o'er Eudocia's ashes.

Erix. Forbear, Euphrasia, to renew your sor

rows.

Euph. My tears have dried their source; then let me here

Pay this sad visit to the honour'd clay,
That moulders in the tomb. These sacred viands
I'll burn, an off'ring to a parent's shade,
And sprinkle with this wine the hallow'd mould.
That duty paid, I will return, my virgins.

[Goes into the Tomb. Eriz. Look down, propitious powers! behold that virtue,

And heal the pangs that desolate her soul.

Enter PHILOTAS.

Phil. Mourn, mourn, ye virgins; rend your scatter'd garments;

Some dread calamity hangs o'er your heads.
In vain the tyrant would appease with sacrifice
Th' impending wrath of ill-requited heaven.

Ill omens hover over us: at the altar
The victim dropp'd, ere the diviner seer
Had gor'd his knife. The brazen statues tremble,
And from the marble, drops of blood distil.
Erix. Now, ye just gods, if vengeance you
prepare,
Now find the guilty head.

Re-enter EUPHRASIA from the Tomb. Euph. Virgins, I thank you-Oh! more lightly now

My heart expands; the pious act is done,
And I have paid my tribute to a parent.
Ah! wherefore does the tyrant bend his way?
Phil. He flies the altar; leaves the unfinish'd

rites.

No god there smiles propitious on his cause.
Fate lifts the awful balance; weighs his life,
The lives of numbers, in the trembling scale.
Euph. Despair and horror mark his haggard
looks,

His wild, disorder'd step-Do you retire.
[To Attendants.
Retire, Philotas; let me here remain,
And give the moments of suspended fate
To pious worship and to filial love.
Phil. Alas! I fear to yield :-awhile I'll leave
thee,

And at the temple's entrance wait thy coming. [Erit.

Euph. Now then, Euphrasia, now thou may'st

indulge

The purest ecstacy of soul. Come forth, Thou man of wo, thou man of every virtue.

Enter EVANDER from the Monument.

Evan, And does the grave thus cast me up
again

With a fond father's love to view thee? thus
To mingle rapture in a daughter's arms?
Euph. How fares my father now?
Eran. Thy aid, Euphrasia,

Ias given new life. Thou from this vital stream
Deriv'st thy being; with unheard of duty
Thou hast repaid it to thy native source.

Euph. Sprung from Evander, if a little portion
Of all his goodness dwell within my heart,
Thou wilt not wonder. Oh! my father,
How didst thou bear thy long, long sufferings?

how

Endure their barb'rous rage?

Evan. My foes but did

To this old frame, what nature's hand must do.
I was but going hence by mere decay
To that futurity which Plato taught,
But thou recall'st me; thou!
Euph. Timoleon too

Invites thee back to life.

Eran. And does he still

Urge on the siege?

Euph. His active genius comes To scourge a guilty race.

The Punic fleet Half lost is swallow'd by the roaring sea. The shatter'd refuse seek the Libyan shore, To bear the news of their defeat to Carthage. Evan. These are thy wonders, heaven! abroad,

thy spirit

Moves o'er the deep, and mighty fleets are vanish'd.

Euph. Ha!-Hark!—what noise is that? It

comes this way.

Some busy footstep beats the hollow'd pavement. Oh! Sir, retire-Ye powers!-Philotas !-ha!

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If they are all debas'd, and willing slaves,
And the old sinking to ignoble graves,
The young but breathing to grow gray in bondage,
Of such a race no matter who is king.
And yet I will not think it; no! my people
Are brave and gen'rous; I will trust :heir valour.
Euph. Yet stay; yet he advis d.

No plan is fix'd, and no concerted measure.
Phil. As yet, my liege,
Trust to my truth and honour. Witness, gods,
Here in the temple of Olympian Jove

Philotas swears

Evan. Forbear: the man like thee, Truth, reason, justice, honour's fine excitements, Who feels the best emotions of the heart, Acts by those laws, and wants no other sanction. Euph. Again, th' alarm approaches; sure de

struction

To thee, to all, will follow :-hark! a sound Comes hollow murm'ring through the vaulted aisle, It gains upon the ear. Withdraw, my father; All's lost if thou art seen.

Phil. And, lo! Calippus

Darts with the lightning's speed across the aisle. Evan. Thou at the senate-house convene my

friends.

Melanthon, Dion, and their brave associates,
Will show that liberty has leaders still.
Anon I'll meet 'em there: [Exit PHILOTAS.] my

child farewell:

Thou shalt direct me now. [Exit into the Tomb, Euph. [Coming forward.] How my distracted heart throbs wild with fear! What brings Calippus? wherefore? Save me, heav'n!

Enter CALIPPUS.

Cal. This sullen musing in these drear abodes Alarms suspicion: the king knows thy plottings, Thy rooted hatred to the state and him. His soy'reign will commands thee to repair This moment to his presence.

Euph. Ha! what means

The tyrant?—I obey. [Exit CALIPPUS.] And, oh! ye powers,

Ye ministers of heaven! defend my father;
Support his drooping age; and when anon
Avenging justice shakes her crimson steel,
Oh! be the grave at least a place of rest;
'That from his covert, in the hour of peace,
Forth he may come to bless a willing people,
And be your own just image here on earth.

ACT IV.

[Exit.

SCENE 1-The Citadel.
Enter DIONYSIUS, CALIPPUS, and others.
Dion. And means the Greek to treat of terms
of peace?

By heaven, this panting bosom hop'd to meet
His boasted phalanx on th' embattled plain.
And doth he now, on peaceful councils bent,
Despatch his herald!-Let the slave approach.
Enter HERALD.

Now speak thy purpose; what doth Greece in
part?

Her. Timoleor., Sir, whose great renown in

arms

Is equall'd only by the softer virtues
Of mild humanity that sway his heart,

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