Euph. Still is far off; the gods have sent relief,

And once again I shall behold him king.
Melan. Alas! those glittering hopes but lend

a ray

To gild the clouds, that hover o'er your head, Soon to rain sorrow down, and plunge you deeper In black despair.

Euph. The spirit-stirring virtue,
That glows within me, ne'er shall know despair.
No, I will trust the gods. Desponding man!
Hast thou not heard with what resistless ardour
Timoleon drives the tumult of the war?
Hast thou not heard him thundering at our
gates?

The tyrant's pent up in his last retreat;
Anon thou'lt see his battlements in dust,
His walls, his ramparts, and his towers in ruin;
Destruction pouring in on every side;
Pride and oppression at their utmost need;
And nought to save him in his hopeless hour.
[A flourish of trumpets.
Melan. Ha! the fell tyrant comes-Beguile
his rage,

And o'er your sorrows cast a dawn of gladness.

Enter DIONYSIUS, CALIPPUS, Officers, &c.
Dion. The vain, presumptuous Greek! his
hopes of conquest,

Like a gay dream, are vanished into air.
Proudly elate, and flushed with easy triumph
O'er vulgar warriors, to the gates of Syracuse
He urged the war, till Dionysius' arm

Let slaughter loose, and taught his dastard train
To seek their safety by inglorious flight.

Euph. O Dionysius, if distracting fears Alarm this throbbing bosom, you will pardon A frail and tender sex. Should ruthless war Roam through our streets, and riot here in blood, Where shall the lost Euphrasia find a shelter? In vain she'll kneel, and clasp the sacred altar. O let me, then, in mercy, let me seek The gloomy mansion, where my father dwells; I die content, if in his arms I perish.

Dion. Thou lovely trembler, hush thy fears

Evander mocks the injuries of time.
Calippus, thou survey the city round;
Station the centinels, that no surprise
Invade the unguarded works, while drowsy night
Weighs down the soldier's eye. Afflicted fair,
Thy couch invites thee. When the tumult's o'er,
Thou'lt see Evander with redoubled joy.
Though now, unequal to the cares of empire,
His age sequester him, yet honours high
Shall gild the evening of his various day.

Euph. For this benignity, accept my thanks. They gush in tears, and my heart pours its tribute.

Dion. Perdiccas, ere the morn's revolving
light

Unveil the face of things, do thou dispatch
A well-oared galley to Hamilcar's fleet;
At the north point of yonder promontory,
Let some selected officer instruct him
To moor his ships, and issue on the land.
Then may Timoleon tremble: vengeance, then,
Shall overwhelm his camp, pursue his bands,
With fatal havoc, to the ocean's margin,
And cast their limbs to glut the vulture's famine,
In mangled heaps, upon the naked shore.

[Exit DIONYSIUS Euph. What do I hear? Melanthon, can it be? If Carthage comes, if her perfidious sons List in his cause, the dawn of freedom's gone. Melan. Woe, bitterest woe impends; thou would'st not think

Euph. How?-Speak! unfold!
Melan. My tongue denies its office.
Euph. How is my father? Say, Melanthon---
Melan. He,-

I fear to shock thee with the tale of horror!
Perhaps he dies this moment. Since Timoleon
First formed his lines round this beleaguered

city,

No nutriment has touched Evander's lips.
In the deep caverns of the rock imprisoned,
He pines in bitterest want.

Euph. To that abode

Of woe and horror, that last stage of life,
Has the fell tyrant moved him?

Melan. There sequestered,
Alas! he soon must perish.
Euph. Well, my heart,

Well do your vital drops forget to flow! Melan. Enough his sword has reeked with public slaughter;

Now, dark insidious deeds must thin mankind. Euph. Oh! night, that oft has heard my pier cing shrieks

Disturb thy awful silence; oft has heard
Each stroke these hands, in frantic sorrow, gave,
From this sad breast resounding; now no more
I mean to vent complaints; I mean not now
With busy memory to retrace the wrongs
The tyrant heaped on our devoted race.
I bear it all; with calmest patience bear it,
Resigned and wretched, desperate and lost.
Melan. Despair, alas! is all the sad resource
Our fate allows us now.

Euph. Yet, why despair?

Is that the tribute to a father due?

SCENE 1.-A wild romantic scene amidst overhanging rocks; a cavern on one side.

ARCAS. [With a speur in his hand.] The gloom of night sits heavy on the world; And o'er the solemn scene such stillness reigns, As 'twere a pause of nature; on the beach No murmuring billow breaks; the Grecian tents Lie sunk in sleep; no gleaming fires are seen; All Syracuse is lushed; no stir abroad, Save ever and anon the dashing oar, That beats the sullen wave. And hark!-Was that

The groan of anguish from Evander's cell, Piercing the midnight gloom ?-It is the sound Of bustling prows, that cleave the briny deep. Perhaps, at this dead hour, Hamilcar's fleet Rides in the bay.

Enter PHILOTAS, from the cavern. Phil. What ho! brave Arcas! ho! Arc. Why thus desert thy couch? Phil. Methought the sound

Of distant uproar chased affrighted sleep.

Arc. At intervals the oars resounding stroke Comes echoing from the main. Save that report, A death-like silence through the wide expanse Broods o'er the dreary coast.

Phil. Do thou retire,

And seek repose; the duty of thy watch
Is now performed; I take thy post.
Arc. How fares

Your royal prisoner?

Phil. Arcas, shall I own

A secret weakness? My heart inward melts
To see that suffering virtue. On the earth,
The cold, damp earth, the royal victim lies;
And while pale famine drinks his vital spirit,
He welcomes death, and smiles himself to rest.

[Excunt.

gloom of night--

What art thou? what thy errand? quickly say
What wretch, with what intent, at this dead hour--
Wherefore alarm'st thou thus our peaceful watch?
Euph. Let no mistrust affright thee-Lo! a
wretch,

The veriest wretch that ever groaned in anguish,
Comes here to grovel on the earth before thee,
To tell her sad, sad tale, implore thy aid-
For sure the power is thine, thou canst relieve
My bleeding heart, and soften all my woes.
Phil. Ha! sure those accents-

[Takes the light from her.

Euph. Deign to listen to me.

Phil. Euphrasia!

Euph. Yes; the lost, undone Euphrasia;
Supreme in wretchedness; to the inmost sense,
Here in the quickest fibre of the heart,
Wounded, transfixed, and tortured to distraction.
Phil. Why, princess, thus anticipate 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
hushed;

All things are mute around us; all but you
Rest in oblivious slumber from their cares.

Euph. Yes, all; all rest: the very murderer sleeps ;

Guilt is at rest; I, only, wake to misery.

Phil. How did'st thou gain the summit of the rock?

Euph. Give me my father; here you hold him fettered;

Oh! give him to me !-in the fond pursuit
All pain and peril vanish; love and duty
Inspired the thought; despair itself gave courage;
I climbed the hard ascent; with painful toil
Surmounted craggy cliffs, and pointed rocks-
What will not misery attempt?-If ever
The touch of nature throbbed 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 durst comply!
Euph. It will be virtue in thee. Thou, like

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
Chained to the earth, with slow consuming pangs
He felt sharp want, and with an asking eye,
Implored relief, yet cruel men denied it,
Wouldst thou not burst through adamantine gates,
Through 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

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;
All Sicily shall hear me; yonder deep
Shall echo back an injured daughter's cause;
Here will I dwell, and rave, and shriek, and give
These scattered locks to all the passing winds;
Call on Evander lost; and, pouring curses,
And cruel gods, and cruel stars invoking,
Stand on the cliff in madness and despair!
Phil. Yet calm this violence! reflect, Eu-
phrasia,

With what severe enforcement Dionysius
Exacts obedience to his dread command.
If here thou'rt found-

Euph. Here is Euphrasia's mansion,

[Falls upon the ground. Her fixed eternal home; inhuman savages, Here stretch me with a father's murdered corse! Then heap your rocks, your mountains on my head!

It will be kindness in you; I shall rest
Entombed within a parent's arms.
Phil. By heaven,
My heart in pity bleeds.

Euph. Talk'st thou of pity?

Yield to the generous instinct; grant my prayer; Let my eyes view him, gaze their last upon him, And shew you have some sense of human woe!

Phil. Her vehemence of grief o'erpowers me

quite.

My honest heart condemns the barbarous deed, And if I dare

Euph. And, if you dare! Is that The voice of manhood! Honest, if you dare! 'Tis the slave's virtue! 'tis the utmost limit Of the base coward's honour. Not a wretch, There's not a villain, not a tool of power, But, silence interest, extinguish fear, And he will prove benevolent to man. The generous heart does more: will dare do all That honour prompts. How dost thou dare to murder?

Respect the gods, and know no other fear.

Phil. No other fear assails this warlike breast.
I pity your misfortunes; yes, by Heaven,
My heart bleeds for you. Gods! you've touch-
ed my soul !

The generous impulse is not given in vain.
I feel thee, Nature, and I dare obey.
Oh! thou hast conquered. Go, Euphrasia, go,
Behold thy father.

Euph. Raise me, raise me up;

I'll bathe thy hand with tears, thou generous man!

Phil. Yet mark my words; if aught of nou

SCENE II.—The Inside of the Cavern.

Enter ARCAS and EUPHRASIA.

Arc. No: on my life I dare not.
Euph. But a small,

A wretched pittance; one poor cordial drop,
To renovate exhausted drooping age.
I ask no more.

Arc. Not the smallest store

Of scanty nourishment must pass these walls. Our lives were forfeit else: a moment's parley Is all I grant; in yonder cave he lies.

Evan. [Within the cell.] Oh struggling nature! let thy conflict end.

Oh! give me, give me rest.
Euph. My father's voice!

It pierces here! it cleaves my very heart.
I shall expire, and never see him more.

Arc. Repose thee, princess, here; [Draws a couch.] here rest thy limbs,

Till the returning blood shall lend thee firmness. Euph. The caves, the rocks, re-echo to his groans !

And is there no relief?

Arc. 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. Euph. Hold, hold, my heart! Oh! how shall

Let me support you, sir.

Evan. Oh! lend your arm.

Whoe'er thou art, I thank thee: that kind breeze Comes gently o'er my senses; lead me forward: And is there left one charitable hand

To reach its succours to a wretch like me? Euph. Well may'st thou ask it. Oh, my breaking heart!

The hand of death is on him.

Evan. Still a little,

A little onward to the air conduct me.

'Tis well; I thank thee; thou art kind and good, And much I wonder at this generous pity.

Euph. Dost thou not know me, sir?

Evan. Methinks I know

That voice: art thou-alas! my eyes are dim!
Each object swims before me: No, in truth
I do not know thee.

Euph. Not your own Euphrasia?
Evan. Art thou my daughter!
Euph. Oh, my honoured sire!

Evan. My daughter, my Euphrasia? come to

close

A father's eyes! Given to my last embrace!
Gods! do I hold her once again? Your mercies
Are without number. [Falls on the couch.
This excess of bliss
O'erpowers; it kills; Euphrasia-could I hope it?
I die content. Art thou, indeed, my daughter?
Thou art; my hand is moistened with thy tears;
I pray you do not weep; thou art my child:
I thank you, gods! in my last dying moments
You have not left me. I would pour my praise;
But, oh, your goodness overcomes me quite!
You read my heart; you see what passes there.
Euph. Alas, he faints; the gushing tide of

transport

Bears down each feeble sense: restore him, Heaven!

Evan. All, my Euphrasia, all will soon be well. Pass but a moment, and this busy globe, Its thrones, its empires, and its bustling millions, Will seem a speck in the great void of space. Yet while I stay, thou darling of my age!-Nay, dry those tears. Euph. I will, my father. Evan. Where,

I fear to ask it

-where is virtuous Phocion? Euph. Fled from the tyrant's power. Evan. And left thee here

Exposed and helpless?

Euph. He is all truth and honour: He fled to save my child.

Evan. My young Evander !

Your boy is safe, Euphrasia? Oh, my heart!
Alas! quite gone; worn out with misery;
Oh, weak, decayed old man!

Euph. Inhuman wretches!

Will none relieve his want! A drop of water Might save his life, and even that's denied him! Evan. These strong emotions-Oh! that eager

air

It is too much-assist me; bear me hence, And lay me down in peace.

Euph. His eyes are fixed!.