_Por._ My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives-- [_Exit_ CATO.

_Enter_ MARCIA.

Oh, Marcia! Oh, my sister, still there's hope Our father will not cast away a life So needful to us all, and to his country.

He is retired to rest, and seems to cherish Thoughts full of peace.--He has dispatch'd me hence With orders that bespeak a mind composed, And studious for the safety of his friends.

Marcia, take care, that none disturb his slumbers. [_Exit._

_Marcia._ Oh, ye immortal powers, that guard the just, Watch round his couch, and soften his repose, Banish his sorrows, and becalm his soul With easy dreams; remember all his virtues, And show mankind that goodness is your care!

_Enter_ LUCIA.

_Lucia._ Where is your father, Marcia; where is Cato?

_Marcia._ Lucia, speak low, he is retired to rest.

Lucia, I feel a gentle dawning hope Rise in my soul--We shall be happy still.

_Lucia._ Alas, I tremble when I think on Cato!

In every view, in every thought, I tremble!

Cato is stern and awful as a G.o.d; He knows not how to wink at human frailty, Or pardon weakness, that he never felt.

_Marcia._ Though stern and awful to the foes of Rome, He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild; Compa.s.sionate and gentle to his friends; Fill'd with domestic tenderness, the best, The kindest father; I have ever found him Easy and good, and bounteous to my wishes.

_Lucia._ 'Tis his consent alone can make us blest.

Marcia, we both are equally involved In the same intricate, perplex'd distress.

The cruel hand of fate, that has destroy'd Thy brother Marcus, whom we both lament----

_Marcia._ And ever shall lament; unhappy youth!

_Lucia._ Has set my soul at large, and now I stand Loose of my vow. But who knows Cato's thoughts?

Who knows how yet he may dispose of Portius, Or how he has determined of himself?

_Marcia._ Let him but live, commit the rest to Heav'n.

_Enter_ LUCIUS.

_Luc._ Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man!

Oh, Marcia, I have seen thy G.o.dlike father!

Some power invisible supports his soul, And bears it up in all its wonted greatness.

A kind, refreshing sleep is fall'n upon him: I saw him stretch'd at ease; his fancy lost In pleasing dreams; as I drew near his couch, He smiled, and cried, "Caesar, thou canst not hurt me."

_Marcia._ His mind still labours with some dreadful thought.

_Enter_ JUBA.

_Jub._ Lucius, the hors.e.m.e.n are return'd from viewing The number, strength, and posture of our foes, Who now encamp within a short hour's march; On the high point of yon bright western tower, We ken them from afar; the setting sun Plays on their shining arms and burnish'd helmets, And covers all the field with gleams of fire.

_Luc._ Marcia, 'tis time we should awake thy father.

Caesar is still disposed to give us terms, And waits at distance, till he hears from Cato.

_Enter_ PORTIUS.

Portius, thy looks speak somewhat of importance, What tidings dost thou bring? Methinks, I see Unusual gladness sparkle in thy eyes.

_Por._ As I was hasting to the port, where now My father's friends, impatient for a pa.s.sage, Accuse the ling'ring winds, a sail arrived From Pompey's son, who, through the realms of Spain, Calls out for vengeance on his father's death, And rouses the whole nation up to arms.

Were Cato at their head, once more might Rome a.s.sert her rights, and claim her liberty.

But, hark! what means that groan?----Oh, give me way, And let me fly into my father's presence! [_Exit._

_Luc._ Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinks on Rome, And, in the wild disorder of his soul, Mourns o'er his country.--Ha! a second groan-- Heav'n guard us all!

_Marcia._ Alas, 'tis not the voice Of one who sleeps; 'tis agonizing pain-- 'Tis death is in that sound----

_Enter_ PORTIUS.

_Por._ Oh, sight of woe!

Oh, Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pa.s.s-- Cato has fall'n upon his sword----

_Luc._ Oh, Portius, Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale, And let me guess the rest.

_Por._ I've raised him up, And placed him in his chair; where pale and faint, He gasps for breath, and, as his life flows from him, Demands to see his friends. His servants weeping, Obsequious to his order, bear him hither!----

_Marcia._ Oh, Heav'n! a.s.sist me in this dreadful hour, To pay the last sad duties to my father!

CATO _brought on, in a Chair._

_Cato._ Here set me down---- Portius, come near me--Are my friends embark'd?

Can any thing be thought of for their service?

Whilst I yet live, let me not live in vain---- Oh, Lucius, art thou here?--Thou art too good-- Let this our friendship live between our children; Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia---- Marcia, my daughter---- Oh, bend me forward!----Juba loves thee, Marcia-- A senator of Rome, while Rome survived, Would not have match'd his daughter with a king-- But Caesar's arms have thrown down all distinction-- I'm sick to death----Oh, when shall I get loose From this vain world, th' abode of guilt and sorrow!

And yet, methinks, a beam of light breaks in On my departing soul----Alas, I fear I've been too hasty!--Oh, ye powers, that search The heart of man, and weigh his inmost thoughts, If I have done amiss, impute it not---- The best may err, but you are good, and--Oh!-- [_Dies._

_Por._ There fled the greatest soul that ever warm'd A Roman breast:-- From hence, let fierce contending nations know, What dire effects from civil discord flow: 'Tis this that shakes our country with alarms; And gives up Rome a prey to Roman arms; Produces fraud, and cruelty, and strife, And robs the guilty world of Cato's life. [_Exeunt omnes._

THE END.