Valerius. Your son, my lord, has slain her cham

pions.

Horatius. What, Publius?

Valerius. Ay, Publius.

Horatius. Oh, let me clasp thee to me!

Were there not three remaining?

Valerius. True, there were;

But wounded all.

Horatius. Your sister here had told us

--

That Rome was vanquis'd, that my son was fledValerius. And he did fly; but 'twas that flight preserv'd us.

All Rome as well as she has been deceiv'd. Horatius Let me again embrace thee-Come, relate it.

Did I not say, Valeria, that my boy

Must needs be dead, or Rome victorious?
I long to hear the manner-Well, Valerius-
Valerius. Your other sons, my lord, had paid the debt
They ow'd to Rome, and he alone remain'd
'Gainst three opponents, whose united strength,
Tho' wounded each, and robb'd of half their force,
Was still too great for his. A while he stood
Their fierce assaults, and then pretended flight
Only to tire his wounded adversaries.

Horatius. Pretended flight, and this succeeded, ha! Oh, glorious boy!

Valerius 'Twas better still, my lord;

all pursued, but not with equal speed.

, eager for the conquest, press'd to reach him;

Nor did the first, till 'twas too late, perceive
His fainter brothers panting far behind.

Horatius. He took them singly then? An easy conquest;

'Twas boy's play only.

Valerius. Never did I see

Such universal joy, as when the last

Sunk on the ground beneath Horatius' sword;
Who seem'd a while to parley as a friend,

And would have given him life, but Caius scorn'd it.
Valeria. Caius! Oh, poor Horatia !

Horatius. Peace, I charge thee.

Go, dress thy face in smiles, and bid thy friend
Wake to new transports. Let ambition fire her.
What is a lover lost? There's not a youth

In Rome but will adore her. Kings will seek
For her alliance now, and mightiest chiefs
Be honour'd by her smiles. Will they not, youth?
[Exit Valeria.
Valerius. Most sure, my lord, this day has added

worth

To her whose merit was before unequall'd.

Horatius. How could I doubt his virtue !-Mighty gods!

This is true glory, to preserve his country,
And bid, by one brave act, the Hor tian name
In fame's eternal volumes be enroll'd.

"Methinks already I behold his triumph.
"Rome gazes on him like a second founder;
"The wond'ring eye of childhood views with awe

F

"The new divinity; and trembling age

"Crowds eager on to bless him ere it dies! "Ere long, perhaps, they will raise altars to him, "And even with hymns and sacrifice adore "The virtue I suspected !"-Gracious Heaven! Where is he? Let me fly, and at his feet Forget the father, and implore a pardon For such injustice.

Valerius. "You may soon, my lord,

"In his embraces lose the fond remembrance "Of your mistaken rage." The king, ere this, Has from the field dispatch'd him; "he but staid "Till he could send him home with some slight ho

nours

"Of scatter'd wreaths, and grateful songs of praise. "For till to-morrow he postpones the pomp "Of solemn thanks, and sacrifice to Heaven "For liberty restor'd." But hark! that shout Which sounds from far, and seems the mingled voice Of thousands, speaks him onward on his

way.

Horatius. How my heart dances I-Yet I blush to meet him.

But I will on.

Come, come, Horatia; leave

[Calling at the door.

Thy sorrow far behind, and let us fly

With open arms to greet our common glory. [Exit.

Enter HORATIA and VALERIA.

Horatia. Yes, I will go; this father's hard com. mand

Shall be obey'd; and I will meet the conqueror,

But not in smiles.

Valerius. Oh, go not, gentle lady!

Might I advise ——

Valeria. Your griefs are yet too fresh, And may offend him. Do not, my Horatia.

Valerius. Indeed 'twere better to avoid his presence; It will revive your sorrows, and recall

Horatia. Sir, when I saw you last I was a woman, The fool of nature, a fond prey to grief, Made up of sighs and tears. But now my soul Disdains the very thought of what I was; 'Tis grown too callous to be mov'd with toys. Observe me well; am I not nobly chang'd? From my sad eyes, or heaves my breast one groan ? No: for I doubt no longer. 'Tis not grief, 'Tis resolution now, and fix'd despair.

Valeria. My dear Horatia, you strike terrors thro'

me;

What dreadful purpose hast thou form'd? Oh, speak! Valerius. "Talk gently to her."-Hear me yet, sweet lady.

You must not go; whatever you resolve,

There is a sight will pierce you to the soul.

Horatia. What sight?

Valerius. Alas, I should be glad to hide it; But it is

Horatia. What?

Valerius. Your brother wears in triumpha The very scarf I bore to Curiatius.

Horatia. [Wildly.] Ye gods, I thank ye! 'tis with joy I hear it.

If I should falter now, that sight would rouse
My drooping rage, and swell the tempest louder.

-But soft; they may prevent me; my wild passion Betrays my purpose.- -I'll dissemble with them. [She sits down.

Valerius. She softens now.

Valeria. How do you, my Horatia?

Horatia. Alas, my friend, 'tis madness which I

utter

Since you persuade me then, I will not go.
But leave me to myself; I would sit here;
Alone in silent sadness pour my tears,
And meditate on my unheard-of woes.
Valerius. [To Valeria.] 'Twere well to humour
this. But may she not,

If left alone, do outrage on herself.

Valeria. I have prevented that; she has not near her One instrument of death.

Valerius. Retire we then.

"But, Oh, not far, for now I feel my soul

"Still more perplex'd with love. Who knows, Va

leria,

"But when this storm of grief has blown its fill, "She may glow calm, and listen to my vows."

[Exeunt Valerius and Valeria.

After a short Silence, HORATIA rises, and comes forward.

Horatia. Yes, they are gone; and now be firm, my

soul !