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Near that dear clay extended, best becomes A soldier's courage, and a husband's love.

[Exit.

Enter ENOBARBUS, FLAMINIUS, and Romans.
Enob. To Boadicea's quarter I advanced,
At thy request, who, since her last defeat,
Blind with despair and disappointed fury,
Fled to her tent; expiring, there, I found her,
With one ill-fated daughter, both by poison;
Nor had the friendly Emmeline escaped,
But by the swift prevention of my hand.
Dost thou not thank me, whose suggestion
prompted

Our quick return to seize the secret pass ?
Thou gav'st me freedom; love and fame repay
thee.

Flam. If thou could'st add, that Dumnorix

survived

Enob. [Looking into the tent.] Thou seest the gods have otherwise decreed.

Forbear to mingle vain regret with conquest.
He hath done nobly. Fair befall his urn!
Death is his triumph, which a captive life
Now from the virtuous to his ashes due.
Had forfeited to Rome, with all the praise

Flam. Then art thou fallen at last, thou migh

ty tower,

And more than Roman edifice of glory?
See, too, Venusia, pale in death's embrace,
Presents her faded beauties. Lovely ruin!
Of every grace and virtue once the seat!
The last kind office from my hand receive,
Which shall unite thee to thy husband's side,
And to one grave your mingling reliques trust.
There soon a hallowed monument shall rise;
Insculptored laurel with the myrtle twined,
The well-wrought stone adorning, shall proclaim
His generous valour, and thy faithful love.
[Exeunt omnes.

VOL. I.

4 P

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XUTHUS, king of Athens.

CREUSA, queen of Athens.

ILYSSUS, an unknown youth, attendant on the PYTHIA, priestess of Apollo.

temple at Delphi.

ALETES, a Grecian sage.

PHORBAS, an old Athenian.

Priests of Apollo.

LYCEA, and other women attending on the queen.

Virgins belonging to the temple.

Guards, &c.

Citizens of Athens.

Scene-The vestibule of the temple of Apollo at Delphi, and the laurel grove adjoining.

SCENE I.-The Vestibule of the Temple.

Enter ILYSSUS and Virgins.

ACT I.

Ilys. HASTE, haste, ye virgins; round the columns twine

Your flowery chaplets; and with streams, fresh

drawn

Of Castaly, bedew the sacred porch
Of the great god of day. Already see
His orient beam has reached the double top
Of high Parnassus, and begins to shed
A gleamy lustre o'er the laurel grove!
Haste, haste, ye virgins. From the vale beneath
I hear the noise of chariots and of steeds,
Which hither bend their course; for every sound
Seems nearer than the former.-And behold
A reverend stranger, who, perhaps, proclaims
The approach of some great monarch, to consult
All-seeing Phoebus, or implore his aid.
Haste, haste, ye virgins!

Enter PHORBAS.

Phor. Tell me, gentle maids,

And thou, fair youth, who seem'st to lead the train,

Is this the temple of the Delphic god?

Ilys. It is; and on the middle point of earth Its firm foundation by immortal hands Stands fixed.-But break we off; the folded gates Unbar, and, lo! the priestess' self appears!

[The Pythia speaks as she descends from the temple.

Pyth. Hence, ye profane! nor with unhallowed step

Pollute the threshold of the Delian king, Who slew the Python!-Say, from whence thon

art,

And what thy business, stranger.

Phor. Sacred maid,

From Athens am I come, the harbinger
Of great Creusa, mine and Athens' queen.
Pyth. Comes she on pious purpose, to adore
The mystic shrine oracular?

Phor. She does;

And with her comes the partner of her bed, Æolian Xuthus: he, whose powerful arm

Saved Athens from her fate; and, in return, From good Erectheus' bounteous hand received His daughter and his crown.-Would he had found

Some other recompence! [Half aside. Pyth. [Overhearing him.] Would he had found! Old age is talkative, and I may learn Somewhat of moment from him.-Wherefore come they?

Does famine threaten, or wide-wasting plague Infest the land?

Phor. Thank Heaven, our crowded streets Have felt no dire disease; and plenty still Laughs in our blooming fields. Alas! I fear The childless goddess, who presides o'er Athens, Has found a surer method to declare

How ill she brooks, that any stranger hand
Should wield the Athenian sceptre.
Pyth. Does from her

The

vengeance come?

Phor. I know not whence it comes;
But this I know, full fifteen years have rolled
Since first their hands were joined, and rolled in
vain;

For still the royal pair in silence mourn,
Cursed with a barren bed. For this they come,
To explore the latent cause, and beg of Heaven
To grant an heir, or teach them where to fix,
On what selected head, the Athenian crown.
Pyth. And Heaven, no doubt, will hear and
grant their prayer.-

Ilyssus, haste, and bid the priests prepare
For sacrifice. You, Nysa, and your sisters,
Amid the laurel grove, with speed perform
The morning's due lustration.

Then hither all return.Myself, meanwhile,
Will tempt the vice of age, and try to draw
Some useful secrets from him.
The good king,

[Aside.

Of whom you speak, Erectheus, did his people Esteem and love him as they ought? for fame Talked largely of his worth. He was a kingPhor. He was my good old master; such a king

As Heaven but rarely sends. Did we esteem And love him, dost thou ask? Oh, we adored him; He was our father, not our king. These tears, At least, may speak my heart.-We must not

hope,

In these degenerate times, to see him equalled.
He never did an unkind act, but once,

And then he thought the public good required it;
Though much, I fear, the evils we lament
From thence derive their origin.

Pyth. What act?

What unkind act?

Phor. O maid, 'twere long to tell

The whole unhappy story; yet, in part,
Hear what to me appears too closely joined
With these our present ills. There was a youth,
Athenian born, but not of royal blood,
His name Nicander; him unlucky fate

Had made the lover of our present queen,
While yet a maid. What will not love attempt
In young ambitious minds? He told his pain,
And won the fair, in secret, to admit,
And to return his passion. The good king
Was for a time deceived, but found, at last,
The audacious fraud, and drove the guilty youth
To banishment perpetual. Some say
'Twas by his means he fell, though that my heart
Consents not to believe. Thus much is sure;
Nicander wandered forth a wretched exile,
And, ere few days had passed, upon the road
Were found his well-known garments stained with
blood.

Sure sign of murder, and as sure a sign
No needy robber was the instrument.
Pyth. How bore Creusa this?
Phor. At first her sorrows

Were loud and frantic. Time, at length, subdued
Her rage to silent grief. The good old king,
To soothe her woes, consented she should raise
A tomb to her Nicander, and perform
A kind of annual rites to parted love.

Pyth. But that not long continued, for we find She married Xuthus.

Phor. 'Twas a match of state;

He saved her country, and she gave her hand,
Because that country asked it. But her heart
Is buried with Nicander. Still to him,
And Xanthus' self permits it, she performs
Her yearly offerings, and adorns with flowers
An empty tomb.- -Would he had lived, and
reigned

Her wedded lord! we had not wanted then
The assistance of a stranger arm to guard

The Athenian state; nor had we then been driven
To search for heirs at Delphi.

Pyth. Stop thy tongue,

Or speak with reverence of the sacred shrine !-
Thy words were hasty, but thy silence now
Makes just atonement for them.-Then, perhaps,
Thou think'st this want of heirs a curse entailed
By Heaven on Athens, for Nicander's death
And Xuthus' reign?

Phor. I am Athenian born,
Nor love Æolian kings, however great
And good they may be.

Pyth. The imperial Xuthus

Is much renowned.

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To thee, and to thy shrine.

Pyth. Thy zeal for Athens

Is too intemperate. But the train returns,
And interrupts our converse. Say, Ilyssus,
Are they prepared?

Enter ILYSSUS and Virgins.
Ilys. They are, and only wait
The approaching victims.

Pyth. By yon train, the queen
Is now on her arrival. Thou, Ilyssus,
Receive her here; while I, as custom wills,
Deep in the temple's inmost gloom retire,
And wait the inspiring god. Ilyssus, hear;
When thou hast paid due honours to the queen,
Haste to Aletes; in the laurel grove,
Impatient I expect him; tell him, youth,
Things of uncommon import do demand
His instant presence. But the croud approaches.
Stranger, farewell. I feel, I feel within

An heaven-born impulse, and the seeds of truth Are labouring in my breast. Stranger, farewell. [The Pythia returns to the temple, and the gates shut.

Enter CREUSA and Attendants.

Cre. No farther need we conduct. Bid the guards

Return, and wait the king.

Phor. Does aught of moment Detain him on the road?

Cre. He stops a while

At great Trophonius' cave, that he may leave
No duty unperformed. Heaven grant his zeal
May meet with just success!

İlys. Please you, great queen,

In yon pavilion to repose, and taste
Some light refection.

Cre. Ha! Lycea, Phorbas,

What youth is this? There's something in his eyes,

His shape, his voice-What may we call thee, youth?

Ilys. The servant of the god, who guards this fane.

Cre. Bear'st thou no name?

Ilys. Ilyssus, gracious queen,

The priests and virgins calls me.
Cre. Ha? Ilyssus!

That name's Athenian. Tell me, gentle youth,

Art thou of Athens, then?

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Ilys. O great queen,

Had those from whom I sprung been formed like thee;

Had they e'er felt the secret pangs of nature,
They had not left me to the desert world
So totally exposed. I rather fear

I am the child of lowliness and vice,
And happy only in my ignorance.
Why should she weep? Or if her tears can fall
For even a stranger's but suspected woes,
How is that people blest where she presides
As mother and as queen! Please you retire.

Cre. No, stay. Thy sentiments at least bespeak
A generous education. Tell me, youth,
How has thy mind been formed?

Ilys. In that, great queen,

I never wanted parents. The good priests
And pious priestess, who with care sustained
My helpless infancy, left not my youth
Without instruction. But O, more than all,
The kindest, best good man, a neighbouring sage,
Who has known better days, though now, retired
To a small cottage on the mountain's brow,
He deals his blessings to the simple swains
In balms and powerful herbs he taught me

things,

Which my soul treasures as its dearest wealth,
And will remember ever. The good priests,
'Tis true, had taught the same, but not with hali
That force and energy; conviction's self
Dwelt on Aletes' tongue.

Cre. Aletes, saidst thou?
Was that the good man's name?
Ilys. It is, great queen;

For

yet he lives, and guides me by his counsels Cre. What did he teach thee?

Ilys. To adore high Heaven,

And venerate on earth heaven's image, truth! To feel for others' woes, and bear my own With manly resignation. Yet I own

Some things he taught me, which but ill agree With my condition here.

Cre. What things were those?

Ilys. They were for exercise, and to confirm My growing strength. And yet I often told hi The exercise he taught resembled much What I had heard of war. He was himself A warrior once.

Cre. And did those sports delight thee?
Ilys. Great queen, I do confess my soul mix-
ed with them.

Whene'er I grasped the osier-platted shield,
Or sent the mimic javelin to its mark,
I felt I know not what of spirit in me.
But then I knew my duty, and repressed
The swelling ardour. 'Tis to shades, I cried,
The servant of the temple must confine
His less ambitious, not less virtuous cares.

Cre. Did the good man observe, and blame thy ardour?

Ilys. He only smiled at my too forward zeal; Nay seemed to think such sports were necessary To soften what he called more rigorous studies. Cre. Suppose, when I return to Athens, youth, Thou shouldst attend me thither! wouldst thou

trust

To me thy future fortunes?

Ilys. O most gladly!

But then to leave these shades, where I was nursed
The servant of the god, how might that seem?
And good Aletes too, the kind old man
Of whom I speak? But wherefore talk I thus?
You only throw these tempting lures to try
The ambition of my youth. Please you, retire.
Cre. Ilyssus, we will find a time to speak
More largely on the subject; for the present
Let all withdraw and leave us. Youth, farewell!
I see the place, and will retire at leisure.
Lycea, Phorbas, stay.

Ilys. [Aside.] How my heart beats!
She must mean something sure; though good

Aletes

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He dwells, I think, upon the mountain's brow. Thou wonderest at me; call it, if thou please, A woman's weakness; but obey me, Phorbas.

Phor. You say I wonder; 'tis indeed to see My honoured queen employ her thoughts thus idly

On griefs long past; when things of dear concern
To her and Athens should alarm her nearly.
Cre. What things of near concern?
Phor. See'st thou not, queen,

Thy crown, Erectheus' crown, the crown of A-
thens,
Wavering in fortune's power?

Cre. The gods will fix it.

Phor. The gods! Ah, great Creusa, may my

fears

Be vain and groundless; but I fear the gods
Have left us to ourselves. When we resigned
The Athenian sceptre to a stranger hand,
We did reject their guidance. Wherefore come

we

To Delphi now, but that the offended gods
Have turned too long an inattentive ear
To our ill-judged petitions?

Cre. Why ill-judged?

We asked but heirs.

Phor. We did; for Xuthus' heirs, The race of Æolus. I know, great queen, They were to spring from thee; but Heaven per

mits not

The native pureness of the Athenian soil
Should mix with foreign clay. I wish we find

not

More alien kings at Delphi.

Cre. Think'st thou Xuthus Deceives us, then? His worth, his piety,

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