Eum. Then say,

You tread this ground?

men!

Caled. Was it for this you sent to ask a parley,
T'affront our faith, and to traduce our prophet?
Well might we answer you with quick revenge
For such indignities-Yet, hear, once more,
Hear this, our last demand; and this accepted,
We yet withdraw our war. Be Christians still,
But swear to live with us in firm alliance,
To yield us aid, and pay us annual tribute.
Eum. No, should we grant you aid, we must
be rebels;

And tribute is the slavish badge of conquest.
Yet since, on just and honourable terms,
We ask but for our own-Ten silken vests,
Weighty with pearl and gems, we'll send your
caliph;

Two, Caled, shall be thine; two thine, Abdudah.
To each inferior captain we decree
A turban spun from our Damascus flax,
White as the snows of heaven; to every soldier
A scimitar. This, and of solid gold
Ten ingots, be the price to buy your absence.
Caled. This, and much more, even all your
shining wealth,

Will soon be ours: look round your Syrian frontiers!

See in how many towns our hoisted flags
Are waving in the wind: Sachna, and Hawran,
Proud Tadmor, Aracah, and stubborn Bosra
Have bow'd beneath the yoke-behold our march
O'er half your land, like flame through fields of
harvest.

And last view Aiznadin, that vale of blood!
There seek the souls of forty thousand Greeks
That, fresh from life, yet hover o'er their bodies.
Then think, and then resolve.

Her. Presumptuous men!

What though you yet can boast successful guilt, Is conquest only yours? Or dare you hope That you shall still pour on the swelling tide, Like some proud river that has left its banks, Nor ever know repulse ?

Eum. Have you forgot?

Eudo. All's hush'd around!-No more the shout of soldiers,

And clash of arms tumultuous fill the air.
Methinks this interval of terror seems
Like that, when the loud thunder just has roll'd
O'er our affrighted heads, and in the heavens
A momentary silence but prepares
A second and a louder clap to follow.
Enter PHOCYAS.

O no-my hero comes, with better omens,
And every gloomy thought is now no more.
Pho. Where is the treasure of my soul !-Eu-
docia,

Behold me here impatient, like the miser
That often steals in secret to his gold,
And counts with trembling joy, and jealous trans-
port,

The shining heaps which he still fears to lose.
Eudo. Welcome, thou brave, thou best deserv-

ing lover!

How do I doubly share the common safety,
Since 'tis a debt to thee!-But tell me, Phocyas,
Dost thou bring peace?-Thou dost, and I am
happy!

Pho. Not yet, Eudocia; 'tis decreed by Heaven
I must do more to merit thy esteem.
Peace, like a frighted dove, has wing'd her flight
To distant hills, beyond these hostile tents;
And through them we must thither force our
way,

If we would call the lovely wanderer back
To her forsaken home.

Eudo. False, flattering hope!
Vanish'd so soon!-alas, my faithful fears
Return, and tell me, we must still be wretched!

Pho. Not so, my fair; if thou but gently smile, Inspiring valour, and presaging conquest, These barbarous foes to peace and love shall soon Be chased, like fiends before the morning light, And all be calm again.

Eudo. Is the truce ended?

Must war, alas! renew its bloody rage?

Pho. Think for whose sake danger itself has

charms.

Dismiss thy fears; the lucky hour comes on, Full fraught with joys, when my big soul nó

more

Shall labour with this secret of my passion, To hide it from thy jealous father's eyes.

Just now, by signals from the plain, I've learn'd
That the proud foe refuse us terms of honour;
A sally is resolved; the citizens

And soldiers, kindled into sudden fury,
Press all in crowds, and beg I'll lead them on.
Oh, my Eudocia! if I now succeed-
Did I say if I must, I will; the cause
Is love, 'tis liberty, it is Eudocia !-

What then shall hinder, since our mutual faith
Is pledged, and thou consenting to my bliss,
But I may boldly ask thee of Eumenes,
Nor fear a rival's more prevailing claim?

Eudo. May blessings still attend thy arms!—
Methinks

I've caught the flame of thy heroic ardour!
And now I see thee crown'd with palm and olive;
The soldiers bring thee back with songs of tri-
umph

And loud applauding shouts; thy rescued coun

try

Resounds thy praise; our emperor, Heraclius,
Decree thee honours for a city saved;
And pillars rise of monumental brass,
Inscribed- -To Phocyas the deliverer.

Pho. The honours and rewards which thou hast named,

Are bribes too little for my vast ambition. My soul is full of thee!Thou art my all Of fame, of triumph, and of future fortune. "Twas love of thee first sent me forth in arms, My service is all thine, to thee devoted, And thou alone canst make e'en conquest pleasing.

Eudo. O, do not wrong thy merit, nor restrain it

To narrow bounds; but know, I best am pleased To share thee with thy country. Oh, my Phocyas!

With conscious blushes oft' I've heard thy vows, And strove to hide, yet more revealed my heart; But 'tis thy virtue justifies my choice,

And what at first was weakness, now is glory. Pho. Forgive me, thou fair pattern of all good

Must we, whose business is to keep our walls,
And manage warily our little strength,
Must we at once lavish away our blood,
Because his pulse beats high, and his mad cou-
rage

Wants to be breath'd in some new enterprize?—
You should not have consented.
Eum. You forget.

'Twas not my voice alone; you saw the people
(And sure such sudden instincts are from Hea-
ven !)

Rose all at once to follow him, as if

One soul inspired them, and that soul was Pho cyas'.

Her. I had indeed forgot; and ask your pardon. I took you for Eumenes, and I thought That in Damascus you had chief command. Eum. What dost thou mean?

Her. Nay, who's forgetful now? You say, the people-Yes, that very people, That coward tribe that press'd you to surrender! Well may they spurn at lost authority; Whom they like better, better they'll obey.

Eum. OI could curse the giddy changeful

slaves,

be it,

Must stoop beneath a beardless rising hero;
And in Heraclius' court it shall be said,
Damascus, nay perhaps the empire too,
Owed its diliverance to a boy.Why
So that he now return with victory;
'Tis honour greatly won, and let him wear it.
Yet I could wish I needed less his service.
Were Eutyches return'd-

Her. [Aside.] That, that 's my torture.
I sent my son to th' emperor's court, in hopes
His merit at this time might raise his fortunes;
But Phocyas-curse upon his froward virtues
Is reaping all this field of fame alone,
Or leaves him scarce the gleanings of a harvest.
Eum. See, Artamon with hasty strides return-
ing.

He comes alone!-O friend, thy fears were just.

What are we now, and what is lost Damascus ?

Arta. At first the foe

Seem'd much surprised; but taking soon the

alarm

Gather'd some hasty troops, and march'd to meet

us.

The captain of these bands look'd wild and fierce.
His head unarm'd, as if in scorn of danger,
And naked to the waist; as he drew near
He raised his arm and shook a ponderous lance;
When all at once, as at a signal given,
We heard the tecbir, so these Arabs call
Their shouts of onset, when with loud appeal
They challenge Heaven, as if demanding con-
quest.

The battle join'd, and through the barbarous host
Fight, fight, and Paradise, was all the cry.
At last our leaders met; and gallant Phocyas-
But what are words to tell the mighty wonders
We saw him then perform ?Their chief un-
horsed,

The Saracens soon broke their ranks and fled;
And had not a thick evening fog arose
(Which sure the devil raised up to save his
friends)

The slaughter had been double- But, behold! The hero comes.

Enter PHOCYAS, EUMENES meeting him. Eum. Joy to brave Phocyas! Eumenes gives him back the joy he sent. The welcome news has reach'd this place before

thee.

How shall thy country pay the debut she owes thee?

Pho. By taking this as earnest of a debt Which I owe her, and fain would better pay. Her. In spite of envy I must praise him too.

[Aside.

Phocyas, thou hast done bravely, and 'tis fit
Successful virtue take a time to rest.
Fortune is fickle, and may change; besides,
What shall we gain, if from a mighty ocean
By sluices we draw off some little streams?
If thousands fall, ten thousands more remain.
Nor ought we hazard worth so great as thine
Against such odds. Suffice what's done already :
And let us now, in hopes of better days,
Keep wary watch, and wait th' expected succours.
Pho. What!to be coop'd whole months
within our walls?

To rust at home, and sicken with inaction?
The courage of our men will droop and die,
If not kept up by daily exercise.

Again the beaten for may force our gates;
And victory, if slighted thus, take wing,
And fly where she may find a better welcome.
Art. [Aside.] It must be so-he hates him on
my soul!

This Herbis is a foul old envious knave.
Methinks Eumenes too might better thank him.
Eum. [To HERBIS aside.] Urge him no

To raise a second army. In few hours
We will begin our march. Sergius brings this,
And will inform you further."

Her. [Aside.] Heaven, I thank thee! 'Twas even beyond my hopes.

Eum. But where is Sergius?

Mess. The letter, fasten'd to an arrow's head, Was shot into the town.

Eum. I fear he's taken

O Phocyas, Herbis, Artamon! my friends!
You all are sharers in this news: the storm
Is blowing o'er, that hung like night upon us,
And threaten'd deadly ruin- Haste, proclaim
The welcome tidings loud through all the city.
Let sparkling lights be seen from every turret
To tell our joy, and spread their blaze to heaven.
Prepare for feasts; danger shall wait at distance,
And fear be now no more. The jolly soldier
And citizen shall meet o'er their full bowls,
Forget their toils, and laugh their cares away,
And mirth and triumphs close this happy day.
[Exeunt HER. and ARTA.

Pho. And may succeeding days prove yet more
happy!

Well dost thou bid the voice of triumph sound Through all our streets; our city calls thee father;

And say, Eumenes, dost thou not perceive
A father's transport rise within thy breast,
Whilst in this act thou art the hand of Heaven
To deal forth blessings, and distribute joy?
Eum. The blessings Heaven bestows are
freely sent,

And should be freely shared.

Pho. True-Generous minds Redoubled feel the pleasure they impart. For me, if I've deserved by arms or counsels, By hazards gladly sought, and greatly prosper'd, Whate'er I've added to the public stock, With joy I see it in Eumenes' hands,

And wish but to receive my share from thee.

Eum. I cannot, if I would, withhold thy share. What thou hast done is thine, the fame thy own; And virtuous actions will reward themselves.

Pho. Fame-What is that, if courted for

herself?

Less than a vision; a mere sound, an echo,
That calls with mimic voice through woods and
labyrinths

Her cheated lovers; lost and heard by fits,
But never fix'd: a seeming nymph, yet nothing.
Virtue indeed is a substantial good,

A real beauty; yet with weary steps
Through rugged ways, by long, laborious service
When we have traced, and woo'd, and won the
dame,

May we not then expect the dower she brings?
Eum. Well-ask that dowry; say, can Da-

mascus pay it?

Her riches shall be tax'd: name but the sum, Her merchants with some costly gems shall grace thee;

Nor can Heraclius fail to grant thee honours,
Proportion'd to thy birth and thy desert.

Pho. And can Eumenes think I would be

bribed

me

I had forgot it was Eudocia's father!-
O, could I too forget how he has used me!
Eudo. I fear to ask thee-

Pho. Dost thou fear?-Alas,
Then thou wilt pity me-O generous maid!
Thou hast charm'd down the rage that swell'd
my heart,

And choak'd my voice- -now I can speak to thee. [suffer'd; And yet 'tis worse than death what I have It is the death of honour ?-Yet that's little; 'Tis more, Eudocia, 'tis the loss of thee!

Eudo. Hast thou not conquer'd ?What are all these shouts,

This voice of general joy, heard far around? What are these fires, that cast their glimmering light

Against the sky are not all these thy triumphs? Pho. O name not triumph! talk no more of conquest !

It is indeed a night of general joy,
But not to me! Eudocia. I am come
To take a last farewell of thee for ever!
Eudo. A last farewell!
Pho. Yes-—
--How wilt thou hereafter
Look on a wretch despised, reviled, cashier'd?
Stripp'd of command, like a base beaten coward!
Thy cruel father-I have told too much;
I should not but for this have felt the wounds
I got in fight for him-now, now they bleed.
But I have done and now thou hast my
story,

Is there a creature so accursed as Phocyas?

Eudo. And can it be? is this then thy reward? O Phocyas! never wouldst thou tell me yet That thou had'st wounds; now I must feel them

too.

For is it not for me thou hast borne this? What else could be thy crime ?-Wert thou a traitor,

Had'st thou betray'd us, sold us to the foe

Pho. Would I be yet a traitor, I have leave; Nay, I am dared to it with mocking scorn. My crime indeed was asking thee; that only Has cancell'd all, if I had any merit; The city now is safe, my service slighted, And I discarded, like a useless thing, Nay, bid begone- -and, if I like that better, Seek out new friends, and join yon barbarous

host.

We must not part

Pho. Then I am rich again! [Embracing her
O, no-we will not part! Confirm it, Heaven!
Now thou shalt see how I will bend my spirit,
With what soft patience I will bear my wrongs,
'Till I have wearied out thy father's scorn.
Yet I have worse to tell thee-Eutyches-
Eudo. Why wilt thou name him?
Pho. Now, even now, he 's coming!
Just hovering o'er thee, like a bird of prey.
Thy father vows-for I must tell thee all—
'Twas this that wrung my heart, and rack'd my
brain,

Even to distraction!-vows thee to his bed;
Nay, threaten'd force, if thou refuse obedience.
Eudo. Force! threaten'd force!-my father-
where is nature?

Is that, too, banish'd from his heart!--O then I have no father--How have I deserved this![Weeping.

No home, but am henceforth an out-cast orphan;
For I will wander to earth's utmost bounds,
Ere give my hand to that detested contract.
O save me, Phocyas! thou hast saved my father-
Must I yet call him so, this cruel father-
How wilt thou now deliver poor Eudocia ?

Pho. See, how we're join'd in exile! How our fate

Conspires to warn us both to leave this city!
Thou know'st the emperor is now at Antioch;
I have an uncle there, who, when the Persian,
As now the Saracen, had nigh o'er-run
The ravaged empire, did him signal service,
And nobly was rewarded. There, Eudocia,
Thou might'st be safe, and I may meet with jus-
tice.

Eudo. There-any where, so we may fly this place,

See, Phocyas, what thy wrongs and mine have wrought

In a weak woman's frame! for I have courage
To share thy exile now through every danger.
Danger is only here, and dwells with guilt,
With base ingratitude, and hard oppression.

Pho. Then let us lose no time, but hence this

nay, glory in thee,

[Exeunt.