Forebode for thee. Would thou hadst left this place,

When hence your husband, the brave Phocion, fled;

Fled with your infant son!

Euph. In duty fix'd,

Here I remain'd, while my brave, gen'rous Phocion
Fled with my child, and from his mother's arms
Bore my sweet little one. Full well thou know'st
The pangs I suffer'd in that trying moment.
Did I not weep? Did I not rave and shriek,
And by the roots tear my dishevell'd hair?
Did I not follow to the sea-beat shore,
Resolved, with him and with my blooming boy,
To trust the winds and waves?

Mel. The pious act, whate'er the fates intend, Shall merit heart-felt praise.

Euph. Yes, Phocion, go,

Go with my child, torn from this matron breast, This breast that still should yield its nurture to him,

Fly with my infant to some happier shore.
If he be safe, Euphrasia dies content.
Till that sad close of all, the task be mine
To tend a father with delighted care,
To smooth the pillow of declining age,
See him sink gradual into mere decay,
On the last verge of life watch every look,
Explore each fond unutterable wish,
Catch his last breath, and close his eyes
in
Mel. I would not add to thy afflictions; yet
My heart misgives; Evander's fatal period-
Euph. Still is far off: the gods have sent relief,
And once again I shall behold him king.
Mel. Alas! those glitt'ring hopes but lend a

ray

peace.

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 thund'ring 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 ev'ry side, Pride and oppression at their utmost need, And nought to save him in his hopeless hour. [Flourish of Trumpets. Mel. 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 vanish'd into air. Proudly elate, and flush'd with easy triumph O'er vulgar warriors, to the gates of Syracuse He urg❜d 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. Till the fury Of war subside, the wild, the horrid interval In safety let me soothe to dear delight In a lov'd father's presence: from his sight, For three long days, with specious feign'd excuse Your guards debarr'd me.. Oh! while yet he lives,

Indulge a daughter's love; worn out with age,
Soon must he seal his eyes in endless night,
And with his converse charm my ears no more
Dion. 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.-
Perdiccas, ere the morn's revolving light
Unveil the face of things, do thou despatch
A well-oar'd galley to Hamilcar's fleet;
At the north point of yonder promontory
Let some select 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
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.
Mel. Woe, bitt'rest woe, impends; thou
would'st not think-

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

I fear to shock thee with the tale of horror!
Perhaps he dies this moment. Since Timoleon
First form'd his lines round this beleaguer'd city,
No nutriment has touch'd Evander's lips.
In the deep caverns of the rock imprison'd,
He pines in bitterest want.

Euph. Well, my heart,

Well do your vital drops forget to flow!
Mel. Despair, alas ! is all the sad resource
Our fate allows us now.

Euph. Yet why despair?

Is that the tribute to a father due ?
Blood is his due.

Melanthon, come; my wrongs will lend me force;
The weakness of my sex is gone; this arm
Feels tenfold strength; this arm shall do a deed
For heaven and earth, for men and gods to won-
der at !

This arm shall vindicate a father's cause.

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 chas'd affrighted sleep.

Arc. At intervals the oar's 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 perform'd'; I take thy post.
Arc. How fares

Your royal pris'ner?

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.
Oh! would I could relieve him! Thou withdraw;
Thy wearied nature claims repose; and now
The watch is mine.

Arc. May no alarm disturb thee.

[Exit. Phil. Some dread event is lab'ring into birth. At close of day the sullen sky held forth Unerring signals. With disastrous glare The moon's full orb rose crimson'd o'er with blood; And, lo! athwart the gloom a falling star Trails a long tract of fire!-What daring step Sounds on the flinty rock? Stand there; what,

ho!

Speak, ere thou dar'st advance. Unfold thy purpose:

Who and what art thou?

Phil. How didst thou gain the summit of thể rock?

Euph. 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. Euph. It will be virtue in thee. Thou, like me, Wert born in Greece:-Oh! by our common pa

rent

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,
Would'st 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 assistance

Thy tears, thy wild entreaties, are in vain.
Evander wants not; it is fruitless all;
Euph. Ha-thou hast murder'd him; he 19

no more;

I understand thee;-butchers, you have shed
The precious drops of life; yet, e'en in death,
Let me behold him; let a daughter close
Print her last kisses on his honour'd hand,
With duteous hand a father's beamless eyes;
And lay him decent in the shroud of death

Phil. Alas! this frantic grief can nought avail.
Retire, and seek the couch of balmy sleep,
In this dead hour, this season of repose.

Euph. And dost thou then, inhuman that thou art,

Advise a wretch like me to know repose?

fear,

It is a friend approaches.

Phil. Ha! what mean

Those plaintive notes ?

Euph. Here is no ambush'd Greek, No warrior to surprise thee on the watch. An humble suppliant comes.-Alas, my strength Exhausted quite forsakes this weary frame. Phil. What voice thus piercing through the gleam of night

What art thou? what thy errand? quickly say What wretch, with what intent, at this dread

hour

Wherefore alarm'st thou thus our peaceful watch? [Exit.

Re-enter PHILOTAS, with EUPHRAȘIA.

Euphrasia!
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 hush'd;

All things are mute around us; all but you
Rest in oblivious slumber from their cares.
Euph. Yes, all; all rest: the very murd'rer.
sleeps ;

Guilt is at rest: I only wake to misery.

Shall ring for ever with Euphrasia's wrongs;
All Sicily shall hear me; yonder deep
Shall echo back an injur'd daughter's cause;
Here will I dwell, and rave, and shriek, and give
These scatter'd 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, Euphrasia,
With what severe enforcement Dionysius
Exacts obedience to his dread command.

If here thou'rt found

The gen'rous 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'd
-my soul !

The gen'rous impulse is not given in vain.
I feel thee, nature, and I dare obey.
Oh! thou hast conquer'd.-Go, Euphrasia, go,
Behold thy father.

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

Euph. I will observe your orders:

:

On any terms, oh! let me, let me, see him. Phil. Yon lamp will guide thee through the cavern'd way.

Euph. My heart runs o'er in thanks; the pi

ous act

Timoleon shall reward; the bounteous gods,
And thy own virtue, shall reward the deed.

[Enters the cave. Phil. Prevailing, powerful virtue!Thou subduest

The stubborn heart, and mould'st it to thy purpose. Would I could save them!-But though not for

me

The glorious power to shelter innocence,
Yet for a moment to assuage 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.

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

Awretched pittance; one poor cordial drop
To renovate exhausted drooping age.
A 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 na-
ture! let thy conflict end.

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

It pierces here! it cleaves my very heart.
{ shall expire, and never see him more.
Arc. Repose thee, princess, here, [Draws a
couch] here rest thy limbs,

fill 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

1

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 I sustain

The agonizing scene? [Rises.] I must behold him;
Nature, that drives me on, will lend me force.
Is that my father?

Arc. Take your last farewell.

His vigour seems not yet exhausted quite.

[Exit.

You must be brief, or ruin will ensue. Evan [Raising himself] Oh! when shall I get free?-These ling'ring pangs

Despatch me, pitying gods, and save my child!
I burn, I burn; alas! no place of rest:

A little air; once more a breath of air;
Alas! I faint; I die.

Euph. Heart-piercing sight!
Let me support you, Sir.

Evan. Oh! lend your arm.

[Comes out

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 gen'rous pity

Euph. Do you 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 honour'd sire!

Evan. My daughter, my Euphrasia! coine to

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.

But, oh, your goodness overcomes me quite!
You read my heart; you see what passes there.
Euph. Alas, he faints; the gushing tide of

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

Expos'd 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, decay'd, 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

Phil O! I can hold no more at such a sight, E'en the hard heart of tyranny would melt To infant softness. Arcas, go, behold The pious fraud of charity and love; Behold that unexampled goodness; see

Th' expedient sharp necessity has taught her; Thy heart will burn, will melt, will yearn to view A child like her.

Arc. Ha!Say what mystery

Wakes these emotions?

Phil. Wonder-working virtue !

The father foster'd at his daughter's breast!
O, filial piety!-The milk design'd
For her own offspring, on the parent's lip
Allays the parching fever. All her laws
Inverted quite, great nature triumphs still.
Arc. The tale unmans my soul.
Phil. Ye tyrants, hear it,

And learn, that, while your cruelty prepares
Unheard-of torture, virtue can keep pace

Re-enter: EUPHRASIA and EVANDER. Evan. Euphrasia, oh, my child! returning life Glows here about my heart. Conduct me forward! At the last gasp preserv'd! Ha! dawning light; Let me behold; in faith, I see thee now; I do indeed: the father sees his child.

Euph. I have reliev'd him-Oh, the joy's too great;

'Tis speechless rapture!

Evan. Blessings, blessings on thee!
Euph. My father still shall live. Alas! Phi-
lotas,

Could I abandon that white, hoary head,
That venerable form?-Abandon him

To perish here in misery and famine?

Phil. Thy tears, thou miracle of goodness! Have triumph'd o'er me. Take him, take your father;

Convey him hence; I do release him to you.

Evan. What said Philotas? Do I fondly dream? Indeed, my senses are imperfect; yet

Methought I heard him! Did he say, release me? Phil. Thou art my king, and now no more my pris'ner :

Go with your daughter, with that wondrous patOf filial piety to after times.

tern

Yes, princess, lead him forth; I'll point the path,
Whose soft declivity will guide your steps
To the deep vale, which these o'erhanging rocks
Encompass round. You may convey him thence
To some safe shelter. Yet a moment's pause;
I must conceal your flight from ev'ry eye.
Yes, I will save, or perish in their cause. [Exit.
Evan. Whither, oh! whither shall Evander go?
I'm at the goal of life; if in the race

Honour has follow'd with no ling'ring step,
But there sits smiling with her laurell'd wreath
To crown my brow, there would I fain make halt,
And not inglorious lay me down to rest.

Euph. And will you then refuse, when thus the gods

Afford a refuge to thee?
Evan. Oh! my child,
There is no refuge for me.

Euph. Pardon, Sir:

Euphrasia's care has form'd a safe retreat;

There mays't thou dwell; it will not long bʊ

wanted.

Soon shall Timoleon, with resistless force, Burst yon devoted walls.

Evan. Timoleon! Euph. Yes,

The brave Timoleon with the power of Greece; Another day shall make the city his.

Evan. Timoleon come to vindicate my rights' Oh! thou shalt reign in Sicily! my child

Phil. Life ebbs apace;

Do you, whose youthful spirit glows with life,
Do you go forth, and leave this mould'ring corpse.
To me had heaven decreed a longer date,
It ne'er had suffer'd a fell monster's reign,
Nor let me see the carnage of my people.
Farewell, Euphrasia; in one lov'd embrace
To these remains pay the last obsequies,
And leave me here to sink to silent dust.
Euph. And will you then, on self-destruction
bent,

Reject my prayer, nor trust your fate with me? Evan. Trust thee! Euphrasia? Trust in thee, my child?

Though life's a burden I could well lay down,
Yet I will prize it, since bestow'd by thee,
Oh! thou art good; thy virtue soars a flight
For the wide world to wonder at; in thee,
Hear it all nature, future ages hear it,

The father finds a parent in his child. [Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.—A Rampart near the Harbour.

Enter DIONISIUS and Officers.

Dion. Base deserters! Curse on their Punic faith! Did they once dare To grapple with the Greek? Ere yet the main Was ting'd with blood, they turn'd their ships

averse.

May storms and tempests follow in their rear, And dash their fleet upon the Libyan shore!

Enter CALIPpus.

Cal. My liege, Timoleon, where the harbour opens,

Has storm'd the forts, and even now his fleet
Pursues its course, and steers athwart the bay.
Through ev'ry street

Despair and terror fly. A panic spreads
From man to man, and superstition sees
Jove arm'd with thunder, and the gods against us.
Dim. With sacred rites their wrath must be
appeas'd.

Let instant victims at the altar bleed;

Let incense roll its fragrant clouds to heaven,
And pious matrons and the virgin train,
In slow procession to the temple bear

The image of their gods.

The solemn sacrifice, the virgin throng,
Will gain the popular belief, and kindle
In the fierce soldiery religious rage.
Away, my friends, prepare the sacred rites.

[Exit CAL.

Dion. Curse on his ling'ring pangs! Sicilia's

A heart that's torn, that's mangled with remorse:
Even victory itself plants anguish here,
And round my laurels the fell serpent twines.
Phil. Would Dionysius abdicate his crown,
And sue for terms of peace?

Dion. Detested thought!

No, though ambition teem with countless ills,
It still has charms of power to fire the soul.
Though horrors multiply around my head,
I will oppose them all. The pomp of sacrifice,
But now ordain'd, is mockery to heaven.
'Tis vain, 'tis fruitless; then let daring guilt
Be my inspirer, and consummate all.
Where are those Greeks, the captives of my sword,
Whose desp'rate valour rush'd within our walls,
Fought near our person, and the pointed lance
Aim'd at my breast?

Phil. In chains they wait their doom,
Dion. Give me to see 'em; bring the slaves be-
fore me.

Phil. What, ho! Melanthon, this way lead

your prisoners.

An open foe in arms, I meant to slay
The foe of humankind. With rival ardour
We took the field: one voice, one mind, one heart;
All leagu❜d, all covenanted: in yon camp
Spirits there are who aim, like us, at glory.
Whene'er you sally forth, whene'er the Greeks
Shall scale your walls, prepare thee to encounter
A like assault. By me the youth of Greece
Thus notify the war they mean to wage.

Dion. Thus then I warn them of my great re

venge. Whoe'er in battle shall become our pris'ner, In torments meets his doom.

Greek Offi. Then wilt thou see

How vile the body to a mind that pants

For genuine glory. Twice three hundred Greeks Have sworn, like us, to hunt thee through the

ranks;

Ours the first lot; we've fail'd; on yonder plain Appear in arms, the faithful band will meet thee. Dion. Vile slave, no more. Melanthon, drag 'em hence

To die in misery. Impall'd alive,