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me ?

This once I gield—but see it thus proclaim'd Pho. Inquire no more-thou shalt know all Through all Damascus, that who will depart

hereafterMust leave the place this instant-Pass, move Let me conduct thee hence

(Ereunt. Eudo. Oh whither next ?

To what far distant home ?-But 'tis enough, SCENE II.--- The outside of a Nunnery.

That favour'd thus of Heaven, thou art my guide.

And as we journey on the painful way,
Enter EudocIA.

Say, wilt thou then beguile the passing hours, Eudo. Darkness is fled; and yet the morning

And open all the wonders of the story? light

Pho. Indulge no more thy melancholy thoughts,

Damascus is thy home. Gives me more fears than did night's deadly gloom.

Eudo. And yet thou say'st Within, without, all, all are foes- -Oh, Phocyas, It is no longer ours ! - Where is my father ? Thou art perhaps at rest! would I were too !

Pho. To show thee too, how fate seems every (After a pause.

way This place has holy charms; rapine and murder Dare not approach it, but are awed to distance.

To guard thy safety, e'en thy father now, I've heard that even these infidels have spared

Wert thou within his power, would stand de

feated Walls sacred to devotion-World, farewell! Here will I hide me, 'till the friendly grave

Of his tyrannic vow. Thou know'st last night Opens its arms and shelters me for ever! (Exit. At break of day th’ Arabian scouts had seized

What hope of aid flatter'd this foolish city;

A second courier, and from him 'tis learn'd
Enter PhocyAS.

That on their march the army mutinied,
Pho. Did not I hear the murmurs of a voice, And Eutyches was slain.
This way?

-a woman's too ?- and seem'd Eudo. And yet, that now
complaining ?

Is of the least importance to my peace. Yark!-No-0 torture! Whither shall I turn But answer me ; say, where is now my father ?

Pho. Or gone, or just preparing to depart. I've search'd the palace rooms in vain ! and now, Eudo. What! Is our doom reversed? And is I know not why, some instinct brought me hi

he then ther,

The wretched fugitive ? 'Twas here last night we mnet. Dear, dear Eu- Pho. Thou heavenly maid ! docia !

To free thee, then, from every anxious thought, Might I once more-. (Going out he meets her. Know, I've once more, wrong'd as I am, even Eudo. Who calls the lost Eudocia ?

saved Sure 'tis a friendly voice.

Thy father's threaten'd life; nay, saved DamagPho. 'Tis she- O rapture! Eudo. Is't possible-my Phocyas!

From blood and slaughter, and from total ruin. Pho. My Eudocia !

Terms are obtain'd, and general freedom granted Do I yet call thee mine ?

To all that will, to leave in peace the city Eudo. Do I yet see thee ?

Eudo. Is't possible !--now trust me I could Yet hear thee speak ?-Oh how hast thou es

chide thee: caped

'Tis much unkind to hold me thus in doubt : From barbarous swords, and men that know not I pray thee clear these wonders. merey ?

Pho. 'Twill surprise thee, Pho. I've borne a thousand deaths since our When thou shalt know.last parting

Eudo. What ?
But wherefore do I talk of death ?—for now, Pho. To what deadly gulphs
Methinks, I'm raised to life immortal,

Of horror and despair, what cruel straits
And feel I'm bless'd beyond the power of change. Of agonizing thought I have been driven.
Eudo. Oh, yet beware-lest some event un- This night, ere my perplex'd, bewilder'd soul
known

Could find its way—thou said'st that thou wouldet Again should part us.

chide; Pho. (Aside.) Heaven avert the omen! I fear thou wilt; indeed I have done that None can, my fair, none shall.

I could have wish'd t'avoid but for a cause Eudo. Alas! thy transports

So lovely, so beloved Make thee forget; is not the city taken ?

Eudo. What dost thou mean? Pho. It is.

I'll not indulge a thought that thou could'st do Eudo. And are we not beset with foes? One act unworthy of thyself, thy honour, Pho. There are no foes-or none to thee And that firm zeal against these foes of Heaven, No danger.

Which won my heart at first to share in all Eudo. No foes?

Thy dangers and thy fame, and wish thee mine. Pho. I know not how to tell thee yet. Thou could'st not save thy life by means inglori. But think, Eudoria, that my matchless love And wondrous causes pre-ordain'd conspiring,

Pho. Alas! thou know'st me not, I'm man, For thee have triumph'd o'er the fiercest foes, And turnid them friends.

To error born; and who, that 's man, is perfect ? Eudo. Amazement! Friends !

To save my life? O no, well was it risk'd Call ye guardian powers!—Say on-Oh lead me, For thee! had it been lost, 'twere not too much, Lead me through this dark maze of Providence And thou art safe ;-0 what wouldst thou hava Which thou hast trod, that I may trace thy steps

said, With silent awe, and worship as I pass.

If I had risk'd my soul to save Eudocia !

cus

ous.

frail man,

up thee.

tian cause,

past ?

Eudo. Ha! speak—Oh, no, be dumb——it can Eudo. The cause? There is no cause not be !

Not universal nature could afford And yet thy looks are changed, thy lips grow A cause for this. What were dominion, pornp, pale.

The wealth of nations, nay of all the world, Why dosi thou shake Alas ! I tremble too! The world itself, or what a thousand worlds, Thou could'st not, hast not sworn to Mahomet? If weigh'd with faith unspotted, heavenly truth, Pho. No-I should first have died-nay, given Thoughts free from guilt, the empire of the mind

[thus ? And all the triumphs of a godlike breast, Eudo. o Phocyas! was it well to try me Firm and unmoved in the great cause of virtue ? And yet another deadly fear succeeds.

Pho. How shall I answer thee ?-My soul is How came these wretches hither? Who re

a wed, vived

And trembling owns the eternal force of reason! Their fainting arms to unexpected triumph ? But oh; can nothing then atone, or plead For while thou fought'st, and fought’st the Chris- For pity from thee?

Eudo. Can'st thou yet undo These batter'd walls were rocks impregnable, The deed that's done; recall the time that's Their towers of adamant. But 0, I fear Some act of thine

O, call back yesterday; call back last night, Pho. Oh, I must tell thee all;

Though with its fears, its dangers, its distress; But, pr’ythee, do not frown on me, Eudocia ! Bid the fair hours of innocence return, I found the wakeful foe in midnight council When, in the lowest ebb of changeful fortune, Resolvedl ere day to make a fresh attack,

Thou wert more glorious in Eudocia's eyes, Keen for revenge, and hungry after slaughter Than all the pride of monarchs !– But that Could my racků soul bear that, and think of thee?

deedNay, think of thee exposed a helpless prey Pho. No more-thou waken'st in my tortured To some fierce ruffian's violating arms!

heart O had the world been mine in that extreme The cruel, conscious worm that stings to madness. I should have given whole provinces away, Oh, I'm undone! I know it, and can bear Nay all--and thought it litile for thy ransom! To be undone for thee, but not to lose thee. Éudo. For this then-Oh-thou hast betray'd Eudo. Poor wretch !--I pity thee !—but art the city!

thou Phocyas, Distrustful of the righteous powers above The man I loved ? --I could have died with thee That still protect the chaste and innocent: Ere thou did'st this; then we had gone together, And to avert a feign'd, uncertain danger, A glorious pair, and soar'd above the stars, Thou hast brought certain ruin on thy country! Bright as the stars themselves; and as we pass'd Pho. No, thou forget'st the friendly terms- The heavenly roads and milky ways of light the sword,

Had heard the bless' inhabitants with wonder Which threaten'd to have fill'd the streets with Applaud our spotless love. But never, never blood,

Will I be made the cursed reward of treason, I sheath'd in peace; thy father, thou, and all To seal thy doom, to bind a hellish league, The citizens are safe, uncaptived, free.

And to ensure thy everlasting wo. Eudo. Safe! free! O'no-life, freedom, Pho. What league ?—'tis ended-I renounce every good,

it-thus

(Kneels. Turns to a curse, if sought by wicked means. I bend to Heaven and thee thou divine, Yet sure it cannot be! Are these the terms Thou matchless image of all perfect good ness! On which we meet ?--No-we can never meet Do thou but pity yet the wretched Phocyas, On terms like these; the hand of death itself Heaven will relent, and all may yet be well. Could not have torn us from each other's arms Eudo. No-we must part."'T' will ask whole Like this dire act, this more than fatal blow !

years of sorrow In death, the soul and body only part

To purge away this guilt. Then do not think To meet again, and be divorced no more; Thy loss in me is worth one drooping tear : But now

But if thou wouldst be reconciled to Heaven, Pho. Ha! lightning blast me! strike me, First sacrifice to Heaven that fatal passion Ye vengeful bolts! if this is my reward,

Which caused thy fall-Farewell : forget the Are these my hoped for joys! Is this the wel

lost

But how shall I ask that I would have said, The wretched Phocyas meets, from her he loved For my soul's peace, forget the lost Eudocia. More than life, fame-even to his soul's distraction! Can'st thou forget her ?-Oh! the killing torture Eudo. Hast thou not help'd the slaves of Ma-To think 'twas love, excess of love, divorced os! homet,

Farewell forstill I cannot speak that word, To spread their impious conquest o'er thy coun- These tears speak for me-O farewell

(Esit. What welcome was there in Eudocia's power Pho. (Raving.) For ever! She has withheld from Phocyas? But, alas ! Return, return and speak it; say, for ever! 'Tis thou hast blasted all our joys for ever, She's gone--and now she joins the fugitives. And cut down hope, like a poor, short-lived And yet she did not quite pronounce my doom. flower,

O hear, all-gracious Heaven! wilt thou at once Never to grow again!

Forgive, and oh inspire me to some act Pho, Cruel Eudocia !

This day, that may, in part, redeem what's If in my heart's deep anguish I've been forced

past ! A while from what I was—-dust thou reject me ? Prosper this day, or let it be my last. Think of the cause

(Esit.

come

try?

curse

ACT V.

Caled. If possible,

He should not know of this. No, nor Abudah, SCENE I.-An open place in the City.

By the seven heavens ! bis soul 's a Christian too,
And 'tis by kindred instinct he thus saves

Their cursed lives, and taints our cause with
Enter Cales and DARAN, meeting.

mercy.

Daran. I knew my general would not suffer Caled. Soldier, what news? thou look‘st as

this, thou wert angry.

Therefore I've troops prepared without the gate Daran. And durst I say it, so my chief I am. Just mounted for pursuit. Our Arab horse I've spoke-if it offends, my head is thine, Will in few minutes reach the place ; yet still Take it, and I am silent.

I must repeat my doubts—that devil Phocyas Caled No; say on.

Will know it soon-1 met him near the gate, I know thee honest, and perhaps I guess My nature sickens at him, and forebodes What knits thy brows in frowns

I know not what of ill. Daran. Is this, my leader,

Caled. No more, away A conquerid city ?

-View yon vale of palms : With thy cold fears—we'll march this very inBehold the vanquish'd Christian triumphs still

stant, Rich in his tright, and mocks thy barren war. And quickly make this thriftless conquest good: Caled. The vale of palins !

The sword too has been wrong'd, and thirsts for Daran. Beyond those hills, the place

blood.

(Ereunt. Where they agreed this day to meet and halt, To gather all their forces; there disguised, SCENE II.-A Valley full of Tents ; Baggage Just now I've viewed their camp-0, I could and Harness lying up and down amongst them.

The prospect terminating with palm trees and My eyes for what they've seen.

hills at a distance. Caled. What hast thou seen ? Daran. Why all Damascus :- All its souls, its Enter EUMENES with OFFICERS, Attendants, life,

and crowds of the people of Damascus. Its heart blood, all its treasure, piles of plate, Crosses enrich'd with gems, arras and silks, Eum. (Entering.) Sleep on-and angels be And vests of gold, unfolded to the sun,

thy guard ! – soft slumber That rival all his lustre.

Has gently stole her from ber griefs a while, Caled. How!

Let none approach the tent- Are out guards Daran. 'Tis true.

placed The bees are wisely bearing off their honey, On yonder hills ?

[ To an OFFICER. And soon the empty hive will be our own.

Offi. They are. Culed. So forward too! Curse on this foolish Eum. (Striking his breast.) Damascus, Otreaty.

Still art thou here!-Let me intreat you, friends, Daran. Forward —it looks as if they had To keep strict order: I have no command, been forewarn’d,

And can but now advise you. By Mahomet, the land wears not the face

1st Citizen. You are still Of war, but trade! and thou wouldst swear its Our head and leader. merchants

2d Citizen. We resolve t' obey you. Were sending forth their loaded caravans

3d Citizen. We're all prepared to follow you. To all the neighbouring countries.

Eum. I thank you. Caled. (Aside.) Ha! this starts

The sun will soon go down upon our sorrows, A lucky thought of Mahomet's first exploit, And 'till to-morrow's dawn this is our home : When he pursued the caravan of Corash, Mean while, each as he can, forget his loss, And from a thousand misbelieving slaves And bear the present lotWrested their ill-heap'd goods, transferr'd to Offi. Sir, I have mark'd thrive

The camp's extent; 'tis stretch'd quite through In holier hands, and propagate the faith.

the valley: 'Tis said, ( To Daran.) the emperor had a I think that more than half the city's here. wardrobe here

Eum. The prospect gives me much relief.Of costly silks.

I'm pleased, Darun. That too they have removed. My honest countrymen, to observe your numbers; Caled. Dogs! infidels ! 'tis more than was al And yet it fills my eyes with tears—'T'is said low'd.

The mighty Persian wept, when he survey'd Daran. And sball we not pursue them— His numerous army, but to think them mortal; Robbers! thieves !

Yet he then flourished in prosperity. That steal away themselves, and all they're Alas! what is that ?-Prosperity!-a harlot, worth,

That smiles but to betray ! O shining ruin! And wrong the valiant soldier of his due. Thou nurse of passions, and thou bane of virtue! Caled. (Aside. The caliph shall know this, O self-destroying monster! that art blind, he shall, Abudah,

Yet putt'st out reason's eye, that still should This is thy coward bargain-I renounce it.

guide theeDaran, we'll stop their march, and search. Then plungeth down some precipice unseen, Daran. And strip

And art no more !-Hear me, all-gracious Heaven, (aled. And kill.

Let me wear out my small remains of life Daran. That's well. And yet I fear

Obscure, content, with humble poverty, Abudah's Christian friend

Or in affliction's hard but wholesome school,

If it must be—I'll learn to know myself. Contagion through its guilty palaces,
And that's more worth than empire. But, o And we are fled from death.
Heaven,

Eum. Heroic maid !
Curse me no more with proud prosperity ! Thy words are balsam to my griefs. Eudocia,
It has undone me! - Herbis! where, my friend, I never knew thee 'till this day; I knew not
Hast thou been this long hour?

How many virtues I had wrong'd in thee!

Eudo. If you talk thus, you have not yet for Enter HERBIS.

given me.

Eum. Forgiven thee !-Why, for thee it is, Her. On yonder summit,

thee only, To take a farewell prospect of Damascus. I think, Heaven yet may look with pity on us : Eum. And is it worth a look ?

Yes, we must all forgive each other now.
Her. No—I've forgot it.

Poor Herbis too - we both have been to blame All our possessions are a grasp of air :

Oh, Phocyas ! but it cannot be recail'd. We're cheated whilst we think we hold them Yet were he here, we'd ask him pardon too. fast:

My child !--I meant not to provoke thy tears. And when they're gone, we know that they were Eudo. [Aside.) Oh why is he not here! Why nothing

do I see But I've a deeper wound.

Thousands of happy wretches, that but seem Eum. Poor, good old man !

Undone, yet still are bless'd in innocence 'Tis true—thy son—there thou’rt indeed unhappy. And why was he not one ?

Enter ARTAMON.

Enter an OFFICER. What Artamon!-art thou here, too ?

Offi. Where is Eumenes ? Art. Yes, Sir,

Eum. What means thy breathless haste ? I never boasted much of my religion,

Offi. I fear there's danger:
Yet l’ve some honour and a soldier's pride ; For as I kept my watch, I spy'd afar
I like not these new lords.

Thick clouds of dust, and on a nearer view
Eum. Thou'rt brave and honest.

Perceived a body of Arabian horse Nay, we'll not yet despair. A time may come Moving this way. I saw them wind the hill, When from the brute barbarians, we may wrest And then lost sight of them. Once more our pleasant seats.-Alas ! how soon Her. I saw them too, The flatterer hope is ready with his song Where the roads meet on t'other side these hills, To charm us to forgetfulness !--no more

But took them for some band of christian Arabs Let that be left to Heaven-See, Herbis, see, Crossing the country. This way did they Methinks we've here a goodly city yet.

move? Was it not thus our great forefathers lived, Offi. With utmost speed. In better times—in humble fields and tents, Eum. If they are christian Arabs, With all their flocks and herds, their moving They come as friends; if other, we're secure wealth?

By the late terms. Retire a while, Eudocia, See too, where our own Pharphar winds his Till I return.

(Erit ECDOCIA. stream

I'll to the guard myself.
Through the long vale, as if to follow us, Soldier, lead on the way.
And kindly offers his cool, wholesome draughts,
To ease us in our march! - Why, this is plenty.

Enter another OFFICER.
Enter EUDOCIA.

2d. Offt. Arm, arm! we're ruined !

The foe is in the camp. My daughter !—wherefore hast thou left thy

Eum. So soon! tent?

2d Offi. They've quitted What breaks so soon thy rest?

Their horses, and with sword in hand have Eudo. Rest is not there,

forced Or I have sought in vain, and cannot find it. Our guard ; they say they come for plunder. Oh no-we're wanderers, it is our doom;

Eum. Villains ! There is no rest for us.

Sure Caled knows not of this treachery. Eum. Thou art not well.

Come on—we can fight still. We'll make them Eudo. I would, if possible, avoid myself,

know I'm better now, near you.

What 'tis to urge the wretched to despair. Eum. Near me! alas,

(Eseunt. The tender vine so wreathes its folded arms

(A noise of fighting is heard for some time. Around sonce falling elm—it wounds my heart To think thou followest but to share my ruin.

Enter Daran, with a Party of Saracen
I have lost all but thee.

Soldiers.
Eudo. Oh say not so.
You have lost nothing; no -you have preserved, Daran. Let the fools fight at distance
immortal wealth, your faith inviolate

Here's the harvest.
To Heaven and to your country. Have you not Reap, reap, my countrymen !-Ay, there—first
Refused to join with prosperous wicked men,

clear And hold from them a false inglorious greatness? Those further tentsRuin is yonder, in Damascus now

(Exeunt Soldiers, bearing off baggage, qui The seat abhorr'd of cursed infidels.

(Looking between the tents.] What's here, a Infernal error, like a plague has spread

woman-fair

She seems, and well attired !

It shall be so,

And I am here to execute that doom. I'll strip her first, and then

Eudo. What dost thou mean? [Exit and returns with EUDOCIA. Pho. (Kneeling.) Thus at thy feet—Eudo. (Struggling.) Mercy! Oh spare me! Eudo. O rise! Help, save me! -What, no help!-- -Barba Pho. Never -No, here I'll lay my burden rian! Monster !

down; Heaven hear my cries !

I've tried its weight, nor can support it longer. Daran. Woman, thy cries are vain.

Take thy last look; if yet my eyes can bear No help is near.

To look upon a wretch accursed, cast off

By Heaven and thee--A little longer yet, Enter PHOCYAS.

And I am mingled with my kindred dust, Pho. Villain, thou liest ! take that

By thee forgotten and the worldTo loose thy hold

Eudo. Forbear, [Pushing at him with his spear. O cruel man! Why wilt thou rack me thus? Daran. What, thou !--my evil spirit !

Did'st thou not mark—thou did'st, when last we Is't thou that haunt'st me still ?-but thus I thank

parted, thee,

The pangs, the strugglings of my suffering soul; (Offering to strike him with his scimitar. That nothing but the hand of Heaven itself It will not be -Lightning for ever blast Could ever drive me from thee!Dost thou This coward arm that fails me !—0, vile Syrian,

now

rage ?

(Falls. Reproach me thus? or canst thou have a thought I'm kill'd-Oh curse

(Dies. That I can e'er forget thee ? Pho. Die then; thy curses choak thee !

Pho. (Rising.) Have a care! Eudocia ?

I'll not be tortured more with thy false pity! Eudo. Phocyas ! - -Oh, astonishment ! No, I renounce it. See I am prepared. Then is it thus that Heaven has heard my

[Showing a dagger. prayers ?

Thy cruelty is mercy now Farewell ! I tremble still-and scarce have power to ask thee And death is now but a release from torment ! How thou art here, or whence this sudden out Eudo. Hold-Stay thee yet.— madness of

despair ! Pho. [Walking, aside.] The bood ebbs back And wouldst thou die ? Think, ere thou leap'st that fill'd my heart, and now

the gulph, Again her parting farewell awes my soul, When thou hast trod that dark, that unknown As if 'twere fate, and not to be revoked.

way, Will she not now upbraid me? See thy friends! Canst thou return? What if the change prove Are these are these the villains thou hast trusted ?

worse ? Eudo. What means this murmur'd sorrow to O think, if thenthyself?

Pho. No--thought's my deadliest foe; Is it in vain that thou hast rescued me

'Tis lingering racks, and slow consuming fires, From savage hands ?-say, what's the approach. And therefore to the grave l’d fly to shun it! ing danger?

Eudo. Oh fatal error !-Like a restless ghost, Pho. Sure every angel watches o'er thy safety! It will pursue and haunt thee still; even there, Thou see'st 'tis death to approach thee without Perhaps in forms more frightful. Death 's a

awe, And barbarism itself cannot profane thee. By which poor guessing mortals are deceived, Eudo. Thou dost not answer; whence are 'Tis no where to be found. Thou fliest in vain these alarms?

From life, to meet again with that thou fliest. Pho. Some stores removed, and not allow'd by How wilt thou curse thy rashness then? How treaty,

start, Have drawn the Saracens to make a search. And shudder, and shrink back ? yet how avoid Perhaps 'twill quickly be agreed—But, oh! To put on thy new being ? Thou know'st, Eudocia, I'm a banish'd man, Pho. I thank thee! And 'tis a crime I'm here once more before thee; For now I'm quite undone--I gave up all Else might I speak, 'twere better for the present For thee before, but this ; this bosom friend, If thou wouldst leave this place.

My last reserve-ThereEudo. No-I have a father,

[Throus away the dagger (And shall I leave him?) whom we both have Tell me now, Eudocia, wrong'd,

Cut off from hope, denied the food of life, Or he had not been thus driven out, exposed And yet forbid to die, what am I now ? The humble tenant of this sheltering vale

Or what will fate do with me? For one poor night's repose. -And yet, alas ! Eudo. Oh

[Turns away weeping. For this last act how would I thank thee, Pho Pho. Thou weep'st! cyas!

Canst thou shed tears, and yet not melt to mercy? I've nothing now but prayers and tears to give, O say, ere yet returning madness seize me, Cold, fruitless thanks! -But 'tis some comfort Is there in all futurity no prospect, yet

No distant comfort ? Not a glimmering light That fate allows this short reprieve, that thus To guide me through this maze? Or must I now We may behold each other, and once more Sit down in darkness and despair for ever ? May mourn our woes, ere yet again we part

[They both continue silent for some time. Pho. For ever!

Still thou ari silent ? - Speak, disclose my 'Tis then resolved -It was thy cruel sen

doom, tence,

That 's now suspended in this awful moment ! VOL. II. ...5B 63

name

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