_Enter EUPHRASIA._

Lo! a wretch, The veriest wretch that ever groan'd in anguish, Comes here to grovel on the earth before thee, To tell her sad, sad tale, implore thy aid, For sure the pow'r is thine, thou canst relieve My bleeding heart, and soften all my woes.

_Phil._ Euphrasia!---- Why, princess, thus antic.i.p.ate the dawn?

Still sleep and silence wrap the weary world; The stars in mid career usurp the pole; The Grecian bands, the winds, the waves are hush'd; All things are mute around us; all but you Rest in oblivious slumber from their cares.

_Eup._ Yes; all, all rest: the very murd'rer sleeps; Guilt is at rest: I only wake to misery.

_Phil._ How didst thou gain the summit of the rock?

_Eup._ Give me my father; here you hold him fetter'd; Oh! give him to me----If ever The touch of nature throbb'd within your breast, Admit me to Evander. In these caves I know he pines in want; let me convey Some charitable succour to a father.

_Phil._ Alas, Euphrasia! 'would I dare comply!

_Eup._ It will be virtue in thee. Thou, like me, Wert born in Greece:--Oh! by our common parent-- Nay, stay; thou shalt not fly; Philotas, stay;-- You have a father too; think, were his lot Hard as Evander's; if by felon hands Chain'd to the earth, with slow-consuming pangs He felt sharp want, and with an asking eye Implor'd relief, yet cruel men deny'd it, Wouldst thou not burst thro' adamantine gates, Thro' walls and rocks, to save him? Think, Philotas, Of thy own aged sire, and pity mine.

Think of the agonies a daughter feels, When thus a parent wants the common food, The bounteous hand of nature meant for all.

_Phil._ 'Twere best withdraw thee, princess; thy a.s.sistance Evander wants not; it is fruitless all; Thy tears, thy wild entreaties, are in vain.

_Eup._ Ha!--thou hast murder'd him; he is no more; I understand thee;--butchers, you have shed The precious drops of life.

_Phil._ Alas! this frantic grief can nought avail.

Retire and seek the couch of balmy sleep, In this dead hour, this season of repose.

_Eup._ And dost thou then, inhuman as thou art!

Advise a wretch like me to know repose?

This is my last abode:--these caves, these rocks, Shall ring for ever with Euphrasia's wrongs.

Here will I dwell, and rave, and shriek, and give These scatter'd locks to all the pa.s.sing winds; Call on Evander lost;-- And cruel G.o.ds, and cruel stars invoking, Stand on the cliff in madness and despair.

_Phil._ By Heav'n, My heart in pity bleeds.

No other fear a.s.sails this warlike breast.

I pity your misfortunes; yes, by Heav'n, My heart bleeds for you.--G.o.ds! you've touch'd my soul!

The gen'rous impulse is not giv'n in vain.

I feel thee, Nature, and I dare obey.

Oh! thou hast conquer'd.--Go, Euphrasia, go, Behold thy father.

_Eup._ Raise me, raise me up; I'll bathe thy hand with tears, thou gen'rous man!

_Phil._ Yet, mark my words; if aught of nourishment Thou wouldst convey, my partners of the watch Will ne'er consent.

_Eup._ I will observe your orders: On any terms, oh! let me, let me see him.

_Phil._ Yon lamp will guide thee thro' the cavern'd way.

_Eup._ My heart runs o'er in thanks; the pious act Timoleon shall reward; the bounteous G.o.ds, And thy own virtue shall reward the deed.

[_Goes into the Cave._

_Phil._ Prevailing, powerful virtue!--Thou subdu'st The stubborn heart, and mould'st it to thy purpose.

'Would I could save them!--But tho' not for me The glorious pow'r to shelter innocence, Yet for a moment to a.s.suage its woes, Is the best sympathy, the purest joy Nature intended for the heart of man, When thus she gave the social gen'rous tear. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_The Inside of the Cavern._

_Enter ARCAS and EUPHRASIA._

_Arcas._ No; on my life, I dare not.

_Eup._ But a small, A wretched pittance; one poor cordial drop To renovate exhausted drooping age, I ask no more.

_Arcas._ Not the smallest store Of scanty nourishment must pa.s.s these walls.

Our lives were forfeit else: a moment's parley Is all I grant; in yonder cave he lies.

_Eva._ [_Within the Cell._] Oh, struggling nature! let thy conflict end.

Oh! give me, give me rest.

_Eup._ My father's voice!

It pierces here! it cleaves my very heart.

I shall expire, and never see him more.

_Arcas._ Repose thee, princess, here, [_Draws a Couch_] here rest thy limbs, Till the returning blood shall lend thee firmness.

_Eup._ The caves, the rocks, re-echo to his groans!

And is there no relief?

_Arcas._ All I can grant, You shall command. I will unbar the dungeon, Unloose the chain that binds him to the rock, And leave your interview without restraint.

[_Opens a Cell in the back Scene._

_Eup._ Hold, hold my heart! Oh! how shall I sustain The agonizing scene? [_Rises._] I must behold him; Nature, that drives me on, will lend me force.

Is that my father?

_Arcas._ Take your last farewell.

His vigour seems not yet exhausted quite.

You must be brief, or ruin will ensue. [_Exit._

_Eva._ [_Raising himself._] Oh! when shall I get free?

--These ling'ring pangs--

_Eup._ Behold, ye pow'rs, that spectacle of woe!

_Eva._ Despatch me, pitying G.o.ds, and save my child!

I burn, I burn; alas! no place of rest:

[_Rises and comes out._