Eudo. Darkness is fled; and yet the morning light

Gives me more fears than did night's deadly gloom. Within, without, all, all are foes—Oh, Phocyas, Thou art perhaps at rest! would I were too!

[After a pause. This place has holy charms; rapine and murder Dare not approach it, but are awed to distance. I've heard that even these infidels have spared Walls sacred to devotion-World, farewell! Here will I hide me, 'till the friendly grave Opens its arms and shelters me for ever! [Exit.

rapture!

caped

Again should part us.

Pho. [Aside.] Heaven avert the omen! None can, my fair, none shall.

Eudo. Alas! thy transports
Make thee forget; is not the city taken?
Pho. It is.

Eudo. And are we not beset with foes?
Pho. There are no foes-or none to thee-
No danger.

Eudo No foes?

Pho. Inquire no more-thou shalt know all hereafter

Let me conduct thee hence

Eudo. Oh whither next?

To what far distant home?-But 'tis enough,
That favour'd thus of Heaven, thou art my guide.
And as we journey on the painful way,
Say, wilt thou then beguile the passing hours,
And open all the wonders of the story?

Pho. Indulge no more thy melancholy thoughts, Damascus is thy home.

Eudo. And yet thou say'st

It is no longer ours!-Where is my father?

Pho. To show thee too, how fate seems every way

To guard thy safety, e'en thy father now,
Wert thou within his power, would stand de-
feated

Of his tyrannic vow. Thou know'st last night
What hope of aid flatter'd this foolish city;
At break of day th' Arabian scouts had seized
A second courier, and from him 'tis learn'd
That on their march the army mutinied,
And Eutyches was slain.

Eudo. And yet, that now

Is of the least importance to my peace.
But answer me; say, where is now my father?
Pho. Or gone, or just preparing to depart.
Eudo. What! Is our doom reversed? And is
he then

The wretched fugitive?

Pho. Thou heavenly maid!

To free thee, then, from every anxious thought, Know, I've once more, wrong'd as I am, even saved

Thy father's threaten'd life; nay, saved Damas

cus

From blood and slaughter, and from total ruin. Terms are obtain'd, and general freedom granted To all that will, to leave in peace the city.

Eudo. Is't possible!-now trust me I could chide thee:

'Tis much unkind to hold me thus in doubt:
I pray thee clear these wonders.
Pho. "Twill surprise thee,
When thou shalt know.-

Eudo. What?

Pho. To what deadly gulphs

Of horror and despair, what cruel straits
Of agonizing thought I have been driven.
This night, ere my perplex'd, bewilder'd soul
Could find its way-thou said'st that thou wouldst
chide;

I fear thou wilt; indeed I have done that
-but for a cause
I could have wish'd t' avoid-
So lovely, so beloved-

Eudo. What dost thou mean?
I'll not indulge a thought that thou could'st do
One act unworthy of thyself, thy honour,
And that firm zeal against these foes of Heaven,
Which won my heart at first to share in all
Thy dangers and thy fame, and wish thee mine.
Thou could'st not save thy life by means inglori-

Their fainting arms to unexpected triumph?
For while thou fought'st, and fought'st the Chris-
tian cause,

These batter'd walls were rocks impregnable,
Their towers of adamant. But O, I fear
Some act of thine-

Pho. Oh, I must tell thee all;

But, pr'ythee, do not frown on me, Eudocia !
I found the wakeful foe in midnight council
Resolved ere day to make a fresh attack,
Keen for revenge, and hungry after slaughter-
Could my rack'd soul bear that, and think of thee?
Nay, think of thee exposed a helpless prey
To some fierce ruffian's violating arms!
O had the world been mine in that extreme
I should have given whole provinces away,
Nay all-and thought it little for thy ransom!
Eudo. For this then-Oh-thou hast betray'd

the city!

Distrustful of the righteous powers above
That still protect the chaste and innocent:
And to avert a feign'd, uncertain danger,
Thou hast brought certain ruin on thy country!
Pho. No, thou forget'st the friendly terms-
the sword,

Which threaten'd to have fill'd the streets with blood,

I sheath'd in peace; thy father, thou, and all
The citizens are safe, uncaptived, free.

Eudo. Safe! free! O no-life, freedom, every good,

Turns to a curse, if sought by wicked means.
Yet sure it cannot be! Are these the terms
On which we meet ?-No-we can never meet
On terms like these; the hand of death itself
Could not have torn us from each other's arms
Like this dire act, this more than fatal blow!
In death, the soul and body only part
To meet again, and be divorced no more;
But now

Pho. Ha! lightning blast me! strike me,
Ye vengeful bolts! if this is my reward,
Are these my hoped for joys! Is this the wel-

come

Eudo. The cause? There is no cause-
Not universal nature could afford

A cause for this. What were dominion, pomp,
The wealth of nations, nay of all the world,
The world itself, or what a thousand worlds,
If weigh'd with faith unspotted, heavenly truth,
Thoughts free from guilt, the empire of the mind
And all the triumphs of a godlike breast,
Firm and unmoved in the great cause of virtue?
Pho. How shall I answer thee?—My soul is
awed,

And trembling owns the eternal force of reason!
But oh; can nothing then atone, or plead
For pity from thee?

Eudo. Can'st thou yet undo

The deed that's done; recall the time that's

past?

O, call back yesterday; call back last night,
Though with its fears, its dangers, its distress;
Bid the fair hours of innocence return,
When, in the lowest ebb of changeful fortune,
Thou wert more glorious in Eudocia's eyes,
Than all the pride of monarchs! - But that
deed-

Pho. No more-thou waken'st in my tortured heart

The cruel, conscious worm that stings to madness.
Oh, I'm undone !I know it, and can bear
To be undone for thee, but not to lose thee.

Eudo. Poor wretch!-I pity thee!--but art thou Phocyas,

The man I loved?—I could have died with thee
Ere thou did'st this; then we had gone together,
A glorious pair, and soar'd above the stars,
Bright as the stars themselves; and as we pass'd
The heavenly roads and milky ways of light
Had heard the bless'd inhabitants with wonder
Applaud our spotless love. But never, never
Will I be made the cursed reward of treason,
To seal thy doom, to bind a hellish league,
And to ensure thy everlasting wo.

Pho. What league ?-'tis ended-I renounce it-thus[Kneels. I bend to Heaven and thee thou divine, Thou matchless image of all perfect goodness! Do thou but pity yet the wretched Phocyas, Heaven will relent, and all may yet be well. Eudo. No-we must part. "Twill ask whole years of sorrow

To purge away this guilt. Then do not think
Thy loss in me is worth one drooping tear:
But if thou wouldst be reconciled to Heaven,
First sacrifice to Heaven that fatal passion
Which caused thy fall-Farewell: forget the

lost

homet,

To spread their impious conquest o'er thy country?

What welcome was there in Eudocia's power She has withheld from Phocyas? But, alas! 'Tis thou hast blasted all our joys for ever, And cut down hope, like a poor, short-lived flower,

Never to grow again!

Pho. Cruel Eudocia !

If in my heart's deep anguish I've been forced
A while from what I was--dost thou reject me?
Think of the cause-

The bees are wisely bearing off their honey,
And soon the empty hive will be our own.

Caled. So forward too! Curse on this foolish treaty.

Daran. Forward

Caled. If possible,

He should not know of this. No, nor Abudah,
By the seven heavens! his soul's a Christian too.
And 'tis by kindred instinct he thus saves
Their cursed lives, and taints our cause with
mercy.

Daran. I knew my general would not suffer this,

Therefore I've troops prepared without the gate
Just mounted for pursuit. Our Arab horse
Will in few minutes reach the place; yet still
I must repeat my doubts-that devil Phocyas
Will know it soon-I met him near the gate,
My nature sickens at him, and forebodes
I know not what of ill.

Caled. No more, away

With thy cold fears-we'll march this very in

stant,

And quickly make this thriftless conquest good: The sword too has been wrong'd, and thirsts for blood. [Exeunt.

SCENE II-A Valley full of Tents; Baggage and Harness lying up and down amongst them. The prospect terminating with palm trees and hills at a distance.

Enter EUMENES with OFFICERS, Attendants, and crowds of the people of Damascus. Eum. [Entering.] Sleep on-and angels be thy guard-soft slumber

Has gently stole her from her griefs a while, Let none approach the tent-Are out guards placed

On yonder hills?

Off. They are.

[To an OFFICER.

been forewarn'd.

By Mahomet, the land wears not the face

1st Citizen. You are still

merchants

Were sending forth their loaded caravans
To all the neighbouring countries.

Caled. [Aside.] Ha! this starts

A lucky thought of Mahomet's first exploit,
When he pursued the caravan of Corash,
And from a thousand misbelieving slaves
Wrested their ill-heap'd goods, transferr'd to
thrive

In holier hands, and propagate the faith.

2d Citizen. We resolve t' obey you.

3d Citizen. We're all prepared to follow you. Eum. I thank you.

The sun will soon go down upon our sorrows, And 'till to-morrow's dawn this is our home: Mean while, each as he can, forget his loss, And bear the present lot—

Offi. Sir, I have mark'd

wardrobe here

Of costly silks.

Daran. That too they have removed.

Caled. Dogs! infidels! 'tis more than was allow'd.

Daran. And shall we not pursue themRobbers! thieves !

That steal away themselves, and all they're worth,

And wrong the valiant soldier of his due.
Caled. [Aside.] The caliph shall know this-
he shall, Abudah,

This is thy coward bargain-I renounce it.
Daran, we'll stop their march, and search.
Daran. And strip-

Caled. And kill.

Daran. That's well. And yet I fear Abudah's Christian friend

My honest countrymen, to observe your numbers;
And yet it fills my eyes with tears-'Tis said
The mighty Persian wept, when he survey'd
His numerous army, but to think them mortal;
Yet he then flourished in prosperity.
Alas! what's that?-Prosperity!-a harlot,
That smiles but to betray! O shining ruin!
Thou nurse of passions, and thou bane of virtue !
O self-destroying monster! that art blind,
Yet putt'st out reason's eye, that still should
guide thee-

Then plungeth down some precipice unseen,
And art no more!-Hear me, all-gracious Heaven,
Let me wear out my small remains of life
Obscure, content, with humble poverty,

Or in affliction's hard but wholesome school,

Pho. Villain, thou liest! take that To loose thy hold

[Pushing at him with his spear. Daran. What, thou!-my evil spirit! Is't thou that haunt'st me still?-but thus I thank thee,

[Offering to strike him with his scimitar. It will not be- -Lightning for ever blast This coward arm that fails me!-O, vile Syrian, [Falls. [Dies.

I'm kill'd-Oh curse—
Pho. Die then; thy curses choak thee!-
Eudocia ?

Eudo. Phocyas!- -Oh, astonishment! Then is it thus that Heaven has heard my prayers?

I tremble still-and scarce have power to ask thee How thou art here, or whence this sudden outrage?

Pho. [Walking aside.] The bood ebbs back that fill'd my heart, and now Again her parting farewell awes my soul, As if 'twere fate, and not to be revoked. Will she not now upbraid me? See thy friends! Are these, are these the villains thou hast trusted? Eudo. What means this murmur'd sorrow to thyself?

Is it in vain that thou hast rescued me From savage hands ?-say, what's the approaching danger?

Pho. Sure every angel watches o'er thy safety! Thou see'st 'tis death to approach thee without

awe,

And barbarism itself cannot profane thee. Eudo. Thou dost not answer; whence are these alarms?

Pho. Some stores removed, and not allow'd by treaty,

Have drawn the Saracens to make a search. Perhaps 'twill quickly be agreed-But, oh! Thou know'st, Eudocia, I'm a banish'd man, And 'tis a crime I'm here once more before thee; Else might I speak, 'twere better for the present If thou wouldst leave this place.

Eudo. No I have a father,

(And shall I leave him?) whom we both have wrong'd,

Or he had not been thus driven out, exposed
The humble tenant of this sheltering vale
For one poor night's repose.- -And yet, alas!
For this last act how would I thank thee, Pho-
cyas!-

I've nothing now but prayers and tears to give, Cold, fruitless thanks!But 'tis some comfort yet

That fate allows this short reprieve, that thus
We may behold each other, and once more
May mourn our woes, ere yet again we part-
Pho. For ever!
"Tis then resolved-

tence, VOL. II.... 5 B

-It was thy cruel sen63

Reproach me thus? or canst thou have a thought
That I can e'er forget thee?

Pho. [Rising.] Have a care!
I'll not be tortured more with thy false pity!
No, I renounce it. See I am prepared.

[Showing a dagger. Thy cruelty is mercy now- -Farewell! And death is now but a release from torment! Eudo. Hold-Stay thee yet.-O madness of despair!

And wouldst thou die? Think, ere thou leap'st the gulph,

When thou hast trod that dark, that unknown way,

Canst thou return? What if the change prove worse?