_Dio._ With him invests our walls, and bids rebellion Erect her standard here.

_Eup._ Oh! bless him G.o.ds!

Where'er my hero treads the paths of war, List on his side; against the hostile javelin Uprear his mighty buckler; to his sword Lend the fierce whirlwind's rage, that he may come With wreaths of triumph, and with conquest crown'd, And a whole nation's voice Applaud my hero with a love like mine!

_Dio._ Ungrateful fair! Has not our sovereign will On thy descendants fix'd Sicilia's crown?

Have I not vow'd protection to your boy?

_Eup._ From thee the crown! from thee! Euphrasia's children Shall on a n.o.bler basis found their rights; On their own virtue, and a people's choice.

_Dio._ Misguided woman!

_Eup._ Ask of thee protection!

The father's valour shall protect his boy.

_Dio._ Rush not on sure destruction; ere too late Accept our proffer'd grace. The terms are these; Instant send forth a message to your husband; Bid him draw off his Greeks! unmoor his fleet, And measure back his way. Full well he knows You and your father are my hostages; And for his treason both may answer.

_Eup._ Think'st thou then So meanly of my Phocion?--Dost thou deem him Poorly wound up to a mere fit of valour, To melt away in a weak woman's tear?

Oh! thou dost little know him; know'st but little Of his exalted soul. With gen'rous ardour Still will he urge the great, the glorious plan, And gain the ever honour'd bright reward, Which fame entwines around the patriot's brow, And bids for ever flourish on his tomb, For nations freed, and tyrants laid in dust.

_Dio._ By Heav'n, this night Evander breathes his last.

_Eup._ Better for him to sink at once to rest, Than linger thus beneath the gripe of famine, In a vile dungeon, scoop'd with barb'rous skill Deep in the flinty rock; a monument Of that fell malice, and that black suspicion, That mark'd your father's reign; a dungeon drear, Prepar'd for innocence!--Vice liv'd secure, It flourish'd, triumph'd, grateful to his heart; 'Twas virtue only could give umbrage; then, In that black period, to be great and good Was a state crime; the pow'rs of genius then Were a constructive treason.

_Dio._ Now your father's doom Is fix'd; irrevocably fix'd.

_Eup._ Thy doom, perhaps, May first be fix'd; the doom that ever waits The fell oppressor, from a throne usurp'd Hurl'd headlong down. Think of thy father's fate At Corinth, Dionysius!

_Dio._ Ha! this night Evander dies; and thou, detested fair!

Thou shalt behold him, while inventive cruelty Pursues his wearied life through every nerve.

I scorn all dull delay. This very night Shall sate my great revenge. [_Exit._

_Eup._ This night, perhaps, Shall whelm thee down, no more to blast creation.

My father, who inhabit'st with the dead, Now let me seek thee in the lonely tomb, And tremble there with anxious hope and fear. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_The Inside of the Temple._

_Enter PHOCION and MELANTHON._

_Phoc._ Each step I move, a grateful terror shakes My frame to dissolution.

_Mel._ Summon all Thy wonted firmness; in that dreary vault A living king is number'd with the dead.

I'll take my post, near where the pillar'd aisle Supports the central dome, that no alarm Surprise you in the pious act. [_Exit._

_Phoc._ If here They both are found; if in Evander's arms Euphrasia meets my search, the fates atone For all my suff'rings, all afflictions past.

Yes, I will seek them--ha!--the gaping tomb Invites my steps--now, be propitious Heaven!

[_He enters the Tomb._

_Enter EUPHRASIA._

_Eup._ All hail, ye caves of horror!--In this gloom Divine content can dwell, the heartfelt tear, Which, as it falls, a father's trembling hand Will catch, and wipe the sorrows from my eye, Thou Pow'r supreme! whose all-pervading mind Guides this great frame of things; who now behold'st me, Who, in that cave of death, art full as perfect As in the gorgeous palace, now, while night Broods o'er the world, I'll to thy sacred shrine, And supplicate thy mercies to my father.

Who's there?--Evander?----Answer----tell me----speak----

_Enter PHOCION, from the Tomb._

_Phoc._ What voice is that?--Melanthon!

_Eup._ Ha! those sounds!-- Speak of Evander; tell me that he lives, Or lost Euphrasia dies.

_Phoc._ Heart-swelling transport!

Art thou Euphrasia? 'tis thy Phocion, love; Thy husband comes.

_Eup._ Support me;--reach thy hand.

_Phoc._ Once more I clasp her in this fond embrace!

_Eup._ What miracle has brought thee to me?

_Phoc._ Love Inspir'd my heart, and guided all my ways.

_Eup._ Oh, thou dear wanderer! But wherefore here?

Why in this place of woe? My tender little one,-- Say, is he safe? Oh! satisfy a mother; Speak of my child, or I go wild at once!

Tell me his fate, and tell me all thy own.

_Phoc._ Your boy is safe, Euphrasia; lives to reign In Sicily: Timoleon's gen'rous care Protects him in his camp:--dispel thy fears; The G.o.ds once more will give him to thy arms.

_Eup._ My father lives sepulchred ere his time, Here in Eudocia's tomb; let me conduct thee.

_Phoc._ I came this moment thence.

_Eup._ And saw Evander?

_Phoc._ Alas! I found him not.

_Eup._ Not found him there?-- And have they then--Have the fell murderers--Oh!

[_Faints away._

_Phoc._ I've been too rash; revive, my love, revive; Thy Phocion calls; the G.o.ds will guard Evander, And save him to reward thy matchless virtue.

_Enter EVANDER and MELANTHON._

_Eva._ Lead me, Melanthon; guide my aged steps; Where is he? let me see him.

_Phoc._ My Euphrasia; Thy father lives;--thou venerable man!