Dost thou not labour with thy murd'rous weight? And you, ye glitt'ring, heav'nly host of stars, Hide your fair heads in clouds, or I shall blast you; For I am all contagion, death, and ruin, And nature sickens at me. Rest, thou world, This parricide shall be thy plague no more; Cal. Now think, thou curs'd Calista, now Thus, thus I set thee free. [Stabs herself.

And makes it grateful as the dawn of day.
Oh, take me in, a fellow mourner, with thee,
I'll number groan for groan, and tear for tear;
And when the fountain of thy eyes are dry,
Mine shall supply the stream, and weep for both. As with thy father here.-Die, and be happy.
Cal. I know thee well, thou art the injur'd Cal. Celestial sounds! Peace dawns upon
Altamont!

Thou that hast endless blessings still in store
For virtue and for filial piety,

And bends him, like a drooping flow'r, to earth. By such examples are we taught to prove Let grief, disgrace, and want be far away; The sorrows that attend unlawful love. But multiply thy mercies on his head. Death, or some worse misfortune, soon divide Let honour, greatness, goodness, still be with him, The injur'd bridegroom from his guilty bride. And peace in all his ways[Dies. If you would have the nuptial union last, Hor. The storm of grief bears hard upon Let virtue be the bond that ties it fast. his youth,

[Exeunt.

HUGHES.

THIS amiable man, and elegant author, was the son of a citizen of London, and was born at Marlborough, in Willshire, on the 29th of Jan. 1677, but received the rudiments of his education in private schools at London. Even in the very earliest parts of life his genius seemed to show itself equally inclined to each of the three sister arts, music, poetry, and design, in all which he made a very considerable progress. To his excellence in these qualifications, his contemporary and friend, Sir Richard Steele, bears the following extraordinary testimonial: "He may (says that author) be the emulation of more persons of different talents than any one I have ever known. His head, hands, or heart, were always employed in something worthy imitation. His pencil, his bow, or his pen, each of which he used in a masterly manner, were always directed to raise and entertain his own mind, or that of others, to a more cheerful prosecution of what is noble and virtuous." Such is the evidence borne to his talents by a writer of the first rank; yet he seems, for the most part, to have pursued these and other polite studies little further than by the way of agreeable amusements, under frequent confinement, occasioned by indisposition and a valetudinarian state of health. Mr. Hughes had, for some time, an employment in the office of ordnance, and was secretary to two or three commissions under the great seal for the purchase of lands, in order to the better securing the docks and harhours at Portsmouth, Chatham, and Harwich. In the year 1717, the Lord Chancellor Cowper, to whom our author had not long been known, thought proper, without any previous solicitation, to nominate him his secretary for the commissions of the peace, and to distinguish him with singular marks of his favour and affection; and, upon his Lordship's laying down the great seal, he was, at the particular recommendation of this his patron, and with the ready concurrence of his successor the Earl of Macclesfield, continued in the same employment, which he held till the time of his decease, the 17th, of Feb. 1719, being the very night on which his celebrated tragedy of The Siege of Damascus made its first appearance on the stage; when, after a life mostly spent in pain and sickness, he was carried off by a consumption having but barely completed his 42d year, and at a period in which he had just arrived at an agreeable competence, and was advancing, with rapid steps, towards the pinnacle of fame and fortune. He was privately buried in the vault under the chancel of St Andrew's church, in Holborn,

THE SIEGE OF DAMASCUS.

ACTED at Drury Lane 1719. It is generally allowed, that the characters in this tragedy are finely varied and distinguished; that the sentiments are just and well adapted to the characters; that it abounds with beautiful descriptions, apt allusions to the manners and opinions of the times wherein the scene is laid, and with noble morals; that the diction is pure, unaffected and sublime, without any meteors of style or ambitious ornaments; and that the plot is conducted in a simple and clear manner, When it was offered to the managers of Drury Lane House, in the year 1718, they refused to act it, unless the author made an alteration in the character of Phocyas, who, in the original, had been prevailed upon to profess himself a Mahometan; pretending that he could not be a hero, if he changed his religion, and that the audience would not bear the sight of him after it, in how lively a manner soever his remorse and repentance might be described. The author (being then in a very languishing condition) finding, if he did not comply, his relations would probably loose the benefit of the play, consented, though with reluctance, to new-model the character of Phocyas The story on which this play is founded, is amply detailed in Mr. Gibbon's History, vol. V. p. 510, where we find the real name of Phocyas to have been Jonas. That author says, "Instead of a base renegado, Phocyas serves the Arabs as an honourable ally; instead of prompting their pursuit, he flies to the succour of his countrymen, and, after killing Caled and Daran, is himself mortally wounded, and expires in the presence of Eudocia, who professes her resolution to take the veil at Constantinople.

CHRISTIANS.

EUMENES.

HERBIS.

PHOCYAS.

ARTAMON.

SCENE. The City of DAMASCUS, in SYRIA, and the Saracen Camp before it; and, in the last Act, a Valley adjacent.

ACT I.

SCENE I-The City.

As brave men should.-Pity your wives and children!

Yes, I do pity them, heav'n knows I do,

Enter EUMENES, followed by a Crowd of E'en more than you; nor will I yield them up,

People.

Eum. I'LL hear no more. Be gone!

Or stop your clam'rous mouths, that still are open
To bawl sedition and consume our corn.
If you will follow me, send home your women,

Though at your own request, a prey to ruffians.—
Herbis, what news?

Enter HERBIS.

Her. News!--we're betray'd, deserted;

And follow to the walls; there earn your safety, The works are but half mann'd; the Saracens

Perceive it, and pour on such crowds, they blunt To leave us desperate. Aids may soon arrive; Our weapons, and have drain'd our stores of Mean time, in spite of their late bold attack,

death.

What will you next?

Eum. I've sent a fresh recruit.

The valiant Phocyas leads them on- whose deeds,

In early youth, assert his noble race;

A more than common ardour seems to warm
His breast, as if he lov'd and courted danger.
Her. fear 'twill be too late.
Eum. I fear it too:

The city still is ours; their force repell'd,
And therefore weaker: proud of this success,
Our soldiers too have gain'd redoubled courage,
And long to meet them on the open plain.
What hinders then but we repay this outrage,
And sally on their camp?

Eum. No-let us first

Believe th' occasion fair, by this advantage,
To purchase their retreat on easy terms:
That failing, we the better stand acquitted
To our own citizens. However, brave Phocyas,
Cherish this ardour in the soldiery,

And though I brav'd it to the trembling crowd,
I've caught th' infection, and I dread th'event.
Would I had treated!-but 'tis now too late. And in our absence form what force thou canst;
[Aside. Then if these hungry bloodhounds of the war
Come, Herbis.
[Exeunt. Should still be deaf to peace, at our return
Our widen'd gates shall pour a sudden flood
A great Shout. Re-enter Herbis.
Of vengeance on them, and chastise their scorn.
Her. So-the tide turns; Phocyas has driv'n
[Exeunt.
it back.

The gate once more is ours.

Flourish. Re-enter EU MENES, with PHOCYAS,
ARTAMON, etc.

Eum. Brave Phocyas, thanks! mine and the
people's thanks.

Yet, that we may not lose this breathing space,
Hang out the flag of truce. You, Artamon,
Haste with a trumpet to th' Arabian chiefs,
And let them know, that, hostages exchang'd,
I'd meet them now upon the eastern plain.
[Exit Artamon.
Pho. What means Eumenes?
Eum. Phocyas, I would try,
By friendly treaty, if on terms of peace
They'll yet withdraw their pow'rs.
Pho. On terms of peace!
What peace can you expect from bands
robbers?

SCENE II-A Plain before the City. A Pros-
pect of Tents at a distance.
Enter CALED, ABUDAH, and DARAN.
Daran. To treat, my chiefs!—What! are
we merchants then,

That only come to traffic with those Syrians,
And poorly cheapen conquest on conditions?
No: we were sent to fight the caliph's battles,
Till every iron neck bend to obedience.
Another storm makes this proud city ours;
What need we treat?-I am for war and plunder.
Caled. Why, so am I; and but to save the
lives

Of mussulmans, not Christians, I would treat.
I hate these Christian dogs; and 'tis our task,
As thou observ'st, to fight; our law enjoins it:
Heaven, too, is promis'd only to the valiant.
of Oft has our prophet said, the happy plains
Above lie stretch'd beneath the blaze of swords.
Abu. Yet Daran's loath to trust that heaven

What terms from slaves but slavery? - You know
These wretches fight not at the call of honour,
That sets the princes of the world in arms.
Base-born, and starv'd, amidst their stony deserts,
Long have they view'd from far, with wishing
eyes,

Our fruitful vales, and all the verdant wealth
That crowns fair Lebanon's aspiring brows.
Here have the locusts pitch'd, nor will they leave
These tasted sweets, these blooming fields of
plenty,

For barren sands and native poverty,
Till driv'n away by force.

Eum, What can we do?

Our people in despair; our soldiers harrass'd
With daily toil and constant nightly watch;
Our hopes of succour from the emperor
Uncertain; Eutyches not yet return'd,
That went to ask them; one brave army beaten;
Th' Arabians num'rous, cruel, flush'd with
conquest.

Her. Besides, you know what frenzy fires
their minds,

Of their new faith, and drives them on to

danger.

for pay This earth, it seems, has gifts that please him

more.

Caled. Check not his zeal, Abudah.
Abu. No; I praise it.

Yet I could wish that zeal had better motives.
Has victory no fruits but blood and plunder?
That we were sent to fight, 'tis true; but
wherefore?

For conquest, not destruction. That obtain'd,
The more we spare, the caliph has more subjects,
And heaven is better serv'd.-But see, they come!
[Trumpets.

Enter EU MENES, HERBIS, and ARTAMON.
Caled. Well, Christians, we are met-and
war awhile,
At your request, has still'd his angry voice,
To hear what you will purpose.

Eum. We come to know,
After so many troops you've lost in vain,
If you'll draw off in peace, and save the rest?
Her. Or rather to know first- for yet we
know not-

Eum. True: they pretend the gates of Why on your heads you call our pointed

-

Paradise

Stand ever open to receive the souls
Of all that die in fighting for their cause.
Pho. Then would I send their souls to Paradise,
And give their bodies to our Syrian eagles.
Our ebb of fortune is not yet so low,

When first we march'd against you, to surrender.
Two moons have wasted since, and now the third
Is in its wane.
At Aiznadin we met and fought the powers
Sent by your emperor to raise our siege.
Vainly you thought us gone; we gain'd a con-
quest.

Caled. Blasphemer, know, your fields and

towns are ours;

'Tis true, drawn off awhile, Ouraven has bestow'd them on the faithful,

You see we are return'd; our hearts, our cause,
Our swords the same.

Her. But why those swords were drawn,
And what's the cause, inform us?

Eum. Speak your wrongs,

And

itself has ratified the grant.

Eum. Oh! now indeed you boast a noble title!
What could your prophet grant? a hireling slave!
Not e'en the mules and camels which he drove,
Were his to give; and yet the bold impostor
Has canton'd out the kingdoms of the earth,
In frantic fits of visionary power,
To sooth his pride, and bribe his fellow madmen!
Caled. Was is for this you sent to ask a parley,

If wrongs you have receiv'd, and by what means T affront our faith, and to traduce our prophet? They may be now repair'd.

Abu. Then, Christians, hear,
And heaven inspire you to embrace its truth!
Not wrongs
avenge, but to establish right,
Our swords were drawn: for such is heaven's
command

Immutable. By us great Mahomet,
And his successor, holy Abubeker,
Invite you to the faith.

Eum. Now, in the name of heaven,
faith is this,

what

That stalks gigantic forth thus arm'd with terrors,
As if it meant to ruin, not to save;
That leads embattled legions to the field,
And marks its progress out with blood and
slaughter?

Her. Bold, frontless men! that impudently dare
To blend religion with the worst of crimes!
And sacrilegiously usurp that name,
To cover fraud, and justify oppression!
Eum. Where are your priests! What doc-
tors of your law

Have you e'er sent t' instruct us in its precepts,
To solve our doubts, and satisfy our reason,
And kindly lead us through the wilds of error,
To these new tracts of truth?-This would be
friendship,

And well might claim our thanks.
Caled. Friendship like this
With scorn had been receiv'd: your
ous vices,

Well might we answer you with quick revenge
For such indignities-Yet hear, once more,
Hear this, our last demand; and, this accepted,
We yet withdraw our war. Be Christians still;
But swear to live with us in firm alliance,
To yield us aid, and pay us annual tribute.
Eum. No: should we grant you aid, we
must be rebels;

And tribute is the slavish badge of conquest.
Yet since, on just and honourable terms,
We ask but for our own-Ten silken vests,
Weighty with pearls and gems, we'll send your
caliph ;

Two, Galed, shall be thine; two thine, Abudah.
To each inferior captain we decree
A turban spun from our Damascus flax,
White as the snows of heaven; to every soldier
A scymitar. This, and of solid gold
Ten ingots, be the price to buy your absence.
Caled. This, and much more, even all your
shining wealth,

Will soon be ours. Behold our march
O'er half your land, like flame through fields
of harvest;

And, last, view Aiznadin, that vale of blood!
There seek the souls of forty thousand Greeks,
That, fresh from life, yet hover o'er their bodies.
Then think, and then resolve.

Her. Presumptuous men!
numer-What though you yet can boast successful guilt,
Is conquest only yours? Or dare you hope
That you shall still pour on the swelling tide,
Like some proud river that has left its banks,
Nor ever know repulse?

Eum. Have you forgot!

Your clashing sects, your mutual rage and strife,
Have driven religion, and her angel guards,
Like outcasts from among you. In her stead,
Usurping superstition bears the sway,
And reigns in mimic state, midst idol shows,
And pageantry of power. Who does not mark
Your lives, rebellious to your own great prophet, Bold as he was, and boasting aid divine,
Who mildly taught you?—Therefore Mahomet Was by the tribe of Corish forc'd to fly,
Has brought the sword, to govern you by force. Poorly to fly, to save his wretched life,
Eum. O, solemn truths! though from an From Mecca to Medina?

impious tongue! [Aside.

That we're unworthy of our holy faith,
To heaven, with grief and conscious shame,

Why have you ravag'd all our peaceful borders?

[now,

Not twice seven years are past, since e'en your prophet,

Abu. No-forgot!

We well remember how Medina screen'd
That holy head, preserv'd for better days,
And ripening years of glory.

Daran. Why, my chiefs,

Will you waste time, in offering terms despis'd,
To these idolaters?-VVords are but air,
Blows would plead better.

Caled. Daran, thou say'st true.
Christians, here end our truce. Behold, once

more

sheath'd,

Plunder'd our towns? and by what claim, e'en The sword of heaven is drawn! nor shall be
You tread this ground?
Her. What claim, but that of hunger? But in the bowels of Damascus.
The claim of ravenous wolves, that leave their Eum. That,

dens

Or speedy vengeance and destruction, due To prowl at midnight round some sleeping village, To the proud menacers, as heaven sees fit! Or watch the shepherd's folded flock for prey?

[Exeunt.

SCENE III-A Garden.

Enter EUDOCIA.

Eud. All's hush'd around! -No more the
shout of soldiers,

And clash of arms, tumultuous, fill the air.
Methinks this interval of terror seems
Like that, when the loud thunder just has roll'd
O'er our affrighted heads, and, in the heavens,
A momentary silence but prepares

A second and a louder clap to follow.

Enter PHOCYAS.

O no-my hero comes with better omens,

And pillars rise of monumental brass,
Inscrib'd-"To Phocyas, the deliverer."
Pho. The honours and rewards, which thou
hast nam'd,

Are' bribes too little for my vast ambition.
My soul is full of thee!-'Thou art my all,
Of fame, of triumph, and of future fortune.
'Twas love of thee first sent me forth in arms;
My service is all thine, to thee devoted;
And thou alone canst make c'en conquest
pleasing.

Eud. O, do not wrong thy merit, nor re

strain it

To narrow bounds; but know, I best am pleas'd And every gloomy thought is now no more. To share thee with thy country. Oh, my Phocyas! Pho. Where is the treasure of my soul?With conscious blushes oft I've heard thy vows,

Eudocia,

Behold me here impatient, like the miser,
That often steals in secret to his gold,
And counts, with trembling joy and jealous
transport,

The shining heaps which he still fears to lose.
Eud. Welcome, thou brave, thou best de-
serving lover!

How do I doubly share the common safety,
Since 'tis a debt to thee!-But tell me, Phocyas,
Dost thou bring peace?-Thou dost, and I am
happy!

Pho. Not yet, Eudocia ; 'tis decreed by heaven,
I must do more to merit thy esteem.
Peace, like a frighted dove, has wing'd her flight
To distant hills, beyond these hostile tents;
And through them we must thither force our way,
If we would call the lovely wanderer back
To her forsaken home.

Eud. False, flattering hope!

Vanish'd so soon!-alas, my faithful fears
Return and tell me we must still be wretched!
Pho. Not so, my fair; if thou but gently smile,
Inspiring valour, and presaging conquest,
These barbarous foes to peace and love shall soon
Be chas'd, like fiends, before the morning light,
And all be calm again,

Eud. Is the truce ended?
Must war, alas! renew its bloody rage,
And Phocy as ever be expos'd to danger?
Pho. Think for whose sake danger itself
has charms.

Dismiss thy fears: the lucky hour comes on
Full fraught with joys, when my big soul no more
Shall labour with this secret of my passion,
To hide it from thy jealous father's eyes.
Just now, by signals from the plain, I've learn'd
That the proud foe refuse us terms of honour;
A sally is resolv'd; the citizens

And soldiers, kindled into sudden fury,
Press all in crowds, and beg I'll lead them on.
O, my Eudocia! if I now succeed-
Did I say, if?-I must, I will; the cause
Is love, 'tis liberty, it is Eudocia!—
What then shall binder,

But I may boldly ask thee of Eumenes,
Nor fear a rival's more prevailing claim?
Eud. May blessings still attend thy arms!-
Methinks

I've caught the flame of thy heroic ardour;
And now I see thee crown'd with palm and olive;
The soldiers bring thee back, with songs of
triumph,

And strove to hide, yet more reveal'd my heart;
But 'tis thy virtue justifies my choice,
And what at first was weakness, now is glory.
Pho. Forgive me, thou fair pattern of all
goodness,

If, in the transport of unbounded passion,
I still am lost to every thought but thee.
Yet sure to love thee thus is every virtue;
Nor need I more perfection.—Hark! I'm call'd.
[Trumpet sounds.

Eud. Then go-and heaven with all its an-
gels guard thee.

Pho. Farewell!-for thee once more I draw the sword.

Now to the field, to gain the glorious prize; 'Tis victory-the word-Eudocia's eyes!

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

Eum. You forget.

'Twas not my voice alone, you saw the people
(And sure such sudden instincts are from heaven!)
Rose all at once to follow him, as if
One soul inspir'd them, and that soul was
Phocyas'.
Her. I had indeed forgot, and ask your
pardon.

I took you for Eumenes, and I thought
That, in Damascus, you had chief command.
Eum. What dost thou mean?
Her. Nay, who's forgetful now?
You say, the people-Yes, that very people,
That coward tribe that press'd you to surrender!
Well may they spurn at lost authority;
Whom they like better, better they'll obey.
Eum. OI could curse the giddy changeful
slaves,

And loud applauding shouts; thy rescu'd country
Resounds thy praise; our emperor, Heraclius, But that the thought of this hour's great event
Decrees thee honours for a city sav'd; Possesses all my soul.-If we are beaten!—