Behold!--I cannot fly to thy embrace.

_Eup._ These agonies must end me--ah, my father!

Again I have him, gracious pow'rs! again I clasp his hand, and bathe it with my tears.

_Eva._ Euphrasia!--Phocion, too!--Yes, both are here!

Oh, let me thus, thus strain you to my heart.

_Phoc._ Protected by a daughter's tender care, By my Euphrasia sav'd! That sweet reflection Exalts the bliss to rapture.

_Eup._ Why, my father, Why thus adventure forth! The strong alarm O'erwhelm'd my spirits.

_Eva._ I went forth, my child, When all was dark, and awful silence round, To throw me prostrate at the altar's foot, And crave the care of Heav'n for thee and thine.

Melanthon there----

_Enter PHILOTAS._

_Phil._ Inevitable ruin hovers o'er you: The tyrant's fury mounts into a blaze; Unsated yet with blood, he calls aloud For thee, Evander! thee his rage hath order'd This moment to his presence.

_Eva._ Lead me to him: His presence hath no terror for Evander.

_Eup._ Horror! It must not be.

_Phil._ No, never, never: I'll perish rather! But the time demands Our utmost vigour. His policy has granted A day's suspense from arms; yet even now His troops prepare, in the dead midnight hour, With base surprise to storm Timoleon's camp.

_Eva._ And doth he grant a false insidious truce, To turn the hour of peace to blood and horror?

_Eup._ I know the monster well: when specious seeming Becalms his looks, the rankling heart within Teems with destruction.

_Mel._ Now, Phocion, now, on thee our hope depends.

Fly to Timoleon; I can grant a pa.s.sport: Rouse him to vengeance; on the tyrant turn His own insidious arts, or all is lost.

_Phoc._ Evander thou, and thou, my best Euphrasia, Both shall attend my flight.

_Mel._ It were in vain; Th'attempt would hazard all.

_Eup._ Together here We will remain, safe in the cave of death; And wait our freedom from thy conqu'ring arm.

_Eva._ Oh, would the G.o.ds roll back the stream of time, And give this arm the sinew that it boasted At Tauromenium, when its force resistless Mow'd down the ranks of war: I then might guide The battle's rage, and, ere Evander die, Add still another laurel to my brow.

_Eup._ Enough of laurell'd victory your sword Hath reap'd in earlier days.

_Eva._ And shall my sword, When the great cause of liberty invites, Remain inactive, unperforming quite?

Youth, second youth, rekindles in my veins: Tho' worn with age, this arm will know its office; Will show, that victory has not forgot Acquaintance with this hand.--And yet--O shame It will not be: the momentary blaze Sinks, and expires: I have survived it all; Surviv'd my reign, my people, and myself.

_Eup._ Fly, Phocion, fly; Melanthon will conduct thee.

_Mel._ And, when th'a.s.sault begins, my faithful cohorts Shall form their ranks around this sacred dome.

_Phoc._ And my poor captive friends, my brave companions Taken in battle, wilt thou guard their lives?

_Mel._ Trust to my care: no danger shall a.s.sail them.

_Phoc._ By Heav'n, the glorious expectation swells This panting bosom! Yes, Euphrasia, yes; A while I leave you to the care of Heaven.

Fell Dionysius tremble; ere the dawn Timoleon thunders at your gates! the rage, The pent-up rage, of twenty thousand Greeks, Shall burst at once; and the tumultuous roar, Alarm th'astonish'd world.

_Eva._ Yet, ere thou go'st, young man, Attend my words: Tho' guilt may oft provoke, As now it does, just vengeance on its head, In mercy punish it. The rage of slaughter Can add no trophy to the victor's triumph; Bid him not shed unnecessary blood.

Conquest is proud, inexorable, fierce; It is humanity enn.o.bles all.

So thinks Evander, and so tell Timoleon.

_Phoc._ Farewell;--the midnight hour shall give you freedom.

[_Exit, with MELANTHON and PHILOTAS._

_Eup._ Ye guardian deities, watch all his ways.

_Eva._ Come, my Euphrasia, in this interval Together we will seek the sacred altar, And thank the G.o.d, whose presence fills the dome, For all the wond'rous goodness lavish'd on us.

[_Exeunt._

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

_Enter DIONYSIUS and CALIPPUS._

_Dio._ Ere the day clos'd, while yet the busy eye Might view their camp, their stations, and their guards, Their preparations for approaching night;-- Didst thou then mark the motions of the Greek?

_Cal._ From the watch-tower I saw them: all things spoke A foe secure, and discipline relax'd.

_Dio._ Their folly gives them to my sword. Are all My orders issued?

_Cal._ All.

_Dio._ The troops retir'd To gain recruited vigour from repose?

_Cal._ The city round lies hush'd in sleep.

_Dio._ Anon Let each brave officer, of chosen valour, Forsake his couch, and with delib'rate spirit, Meet at the citadel. An hour, at furthest, Before the dawn; 'tis fix'd to storm their camp; Haste, Calippus, Fly to thy post, and bid Euphrasia enter.

[_Exit CALIPPUS._

Evander dies this night:--Euphrasia too Shall be dispos'd of. Curse on Phocion's fraud, That from my pow'r withdrew their infant boy.

In him the seed of future kings were crush'd, And the whole hated line at once extinguish'd.

_Enter EUPHRASIA._