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

SCENE II-The inside of the Cavern.

Enter ARCAS and EUPHRASIA.

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

1 wretched pittance; one poor cordial drop
To renovate exhausted drooping age.
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.
1 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!

And is there no relief?

Arc. All I can grant

You shall command. I will unbar the dungeon, Unloose the chain that binds him to the rock, And leave your interview without restraint.

[Opens a Cell in the back scene. Euph. Hold, hold, my heart! Oh! how shall I sustain

The agonizing scene? [Rises.] I must behold him;
Nature, that drives me on, will lend me force.
Is that my father?

Arc. Take your last farewell.

His vigour seems not yet exhausted quite.

[Exit.

You must be brief, or ruin will ensue. 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?
Evan. Art thou my daughter?
Euph. Oh, my honour'd sire!

Evan. My daughter, my Euphrasia! come to

close

Bears down each feeble sense: restore him, heaven !

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.
Evan. 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.

Evan. 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.
Evan. 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?

Phil. O! I can hold no more at such a sight, E'en 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.

Arc. 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.
Arc. The tale unmans my soul.
Phil. Ye tyrants, hear it,
And learn, that, while your cruelty prepares
Unheard-of torture, virtue can keep pace

[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 Glows here about my heart. Conduct me forward! At the last gasp preserv'd! Ha! dawning light; 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? Indeed, my senses are imperfect; yet Methought I heard him! Did he say, release me? 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;
I must conceal your flight from ev'ry eye.
Yes, I will save, or perish in their cause. [Exit.
Evan. 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.

Shall grace her father's throne. Indulgent heaven! Pour down your blessings on this best of daughters;

To her and Phocion give Evander's crown; Let them, oh! let them both in virtue wear it, And in due time transmit it to their boy!

Re-enter PHILOTAS.

Phil. All things are apt; the drowsy sentinel Lies hush'd in sleep; I'll marshal thee the way Down the steep rock.

Euph. Oh! let us quickly hence.

Evan. The blood but loiters in these frozen

veins.

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.

The solemn sacrifice, the virgin throng,
Will gain the popular belief, and kindle
In the fierce soldiery religious rage.
Away, my friends, prepare the sacred rites.

[Exit CAL.

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 Grecks, 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 re

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 revenge

Shall stalk with death and horror o'er the ranks Of slaughter'd troops, a sacrifice to freedom! but first let me behold Euphrasia.

Mel. Hush

Thy pent-up valour: to a secret haunt

ll guide thy steps: there dwell, and in apt time I'll bring Euphrasia to thy longing arms.

Pho. Oh! lead me to her; that exalted virtue With firmer nerve shall bid me grasp the jav'lin, Shall bid my sword, with more than lightning's swiftness VOL. I.

...

.F

4*

Enter EUPHRASIA, ERIXENE, 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. Erix. Look down, propitious powers! behold that virtuc,

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.

[Exit,

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?
Evan. Thy aid, Euphrasia,

Has 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

The forfeit of his crimes, what streams of blood
Shall flow in torrents round! Methinks, I might
Prevent this waste of nature-I'll go forth,
And to my people show their rightful king.
Euph. Banish that thought; forbear; the rash
attempt

Were fatal to our hopes; oppress'd, dismay'd,
The people look aghast, and, wan with fear,
None will espouse your cause.

Evan. Yes, all will dare

To act like men;-their king, I gave myself
To a whole people. I made no reserve;
My life was theirs; each drop about my heart
Pledg'd to the public cause; devoted to it;
That was my compact; is the subject's less?

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 their valour.
Euph. Yet stay; yet be advis'd.
Phil. As yet, my liege,

No plan is fix'd, and no concerted measure.
Trust to my truth and honour. Witness, gods,
Here in the temple of Olympian Jove
Philotas swears-

Evan. Forbear: the man like thee,
Who feels the best emotions of the heart,

Truth, reason, justice, honour's fine excitements, Acts by those laws, and wants no other sanction. Euph. Again, th' alarm approaches; sure de

struction