This way I can elude their search. The heart,
Which dotes like mine, must break to be at ease.
Just now I thought, had Curiatius liv'd,

I could have driven him from my breast for ever.
But death has cancell'd all my wrongs at once.

-The; were not wrongs; 'twas virtue which undid us,

And virtue shall unite us in the grave.

I heard them say, as they departed hence,
That they had robb'd me of all means of death.
Vain thought they knew not half Horatia's purpose.
Be resolute, my brother; let no weak

Unmanly fondness mingle with thy virtue,

And I will touch thee nearly. Oh, come on, 'Tis thou alone canst give Horatia peace.

[Exit.

ACT V. SCENE I.

A Street of Rome. Chorus of Youths and Virgins singing and scattering Branches of Oak, Flowers, &c. Then enters HORATIUS, leaning on the Arm of PUBLIUS HORATIUS.

CHORUS.

THUS, for freedom nobly won,
Rome her hasty tribute pours;

And on one victorious son

Half exhausts her blooming stores.

A YOUTH.

Scatter here the laurel crown,
Emblem of immortal praise !
Wondrous youth to thy renown
Future times shall altars raise.

A VIRGIN.

Scatter here the myrtle wreath,
Though the bloodless victor's due;
Grateful thousands sav'd from death
Shall devote that wreath to you.

A YOUTH.

Scatter here the oaken bough;
Ev'n for one averted fate,

We that civic meed bestow

He sav'd all who sav'd the state.

CHORUS.

Thus for freedom, &c.

Horatius. Thou dost forgive me then, my dearest

boy,

I cannot tell thee half my ecstasy.

The day which gave thee first to my glad hopes
Was misery to this-I'm mad with transport!
Why are ye silent there? Again renew
Your songs of praise, and in a louder strain
Pour forth your joy, and tell the list'ning spheres
at Rome is freed by my Horatius' hand.

Pub. No more, my friends.--You must permit

me, sir,

To contradict you here. Not but my soul,
Like yours, is open to the charms of praise :
There is no joy beyond it, when the mind
Of him who hears it can with honest pride
Confess it just, and listen to its music.
But now the toils I have sustain❜d require
Their interval of rest, and every sense

Is deaf to pleasure- -Let me leave you, friends;
We're near our home, and would be private now:
To-morrow we'll expect your kind attendance
To share our joys, and waft our thanks to Heaven.

As they are going off, HORATIA rushes in.
Horatia. Where is this mighty chief?
Horatius. My daughter's voice!

I bade her come; she has forgot her sorrows,
And is again my child.

Horatia. Is this the hero

That tramples nature's ties, and nobly soars
Above the dictates of humanity?

Let me observe him well.

Pub. What means my sister?

Horatia. Thy sister! I disclaim the impious title; Base and inhuman! Give me back my husband, My life, my soul, my murder'd Curiatius! Pub. He perish'd for his country.

Horatia. Gracious gods!

Was't not enough that thou hadst murder'd him,

But that must trumph a thy guilt, and wear

His bleeding tools-Oh, let me tear them from thee,
Drns the dear drops that issu'd from his wounds,
Mure dear to me than the whole tide that swells
With mpous pride a hostile brother's heart.
Bezza. Asl awake, or is it all illusion!
Was it for this thou caristi

Pu. Horana, bear me,

Yet I am calm, and can forgive thy folly;
Would I could call it by no harsher name.
But do not tempt me farther. Go, my sister,
Go bide thee from the world, nor let a Roman
Know with what insolence thou darʼst avow
Thy infamy, or what is more, my shame,
How tamely I forgave it.-Go, Horatia.

Horatia. I will not go.-What, have I touch'd thee,

then?

And canst thou feel?—Oh, think not thou shalt lose Thy share of anguish. I'll pursue thee still, "Urge thee all day with thy unnatural crimes, "Tear, harrow up thy breast; and then at night" I'll be the fury that shall haunt thy dreams; Wake thee with shrieks, and place before thy sight Thy mangled friends in all their pomp of horror.

Pub. Away with her! 'tis womanish complaining. Think'st thou such trifles can alarm the man Whose noblest passion is his country's love?

Let it be thine, and learn to bear affliction." tia. Curse on my country's love, the trick ye teach us

To make us slaves beneath the mask of virtue;
To rub us of each soft endearing sense,

And violate the first great law within us.

I scorn the impious passion.

Pub. Have a care;

Thou'st touch'd a string which may awake my ven

geance.

Horatia. [Aside.] Then it shall "do it."

Pub. Oh, if thou dar'st prophane

That sacred tie which winds about my heart,
By Heaven I swear, by the great gods who rule
The fate of empires, 'tis not this fond weakness
Which hangs upon me, and retards my justice,
Nor even thy sex, which shall protect thee from me.
[Clapping his hand on his sword.
Horatius. Drag her away-thou'lt make me curse
thee, girl-

Indeed she's mad.

Horatia. Stand off, I am not mad

[To Publius,

Nay, draw thy sword; I do defy thee, murderer,
Barbarian, Roman!-Mad! The name of Rome
Makes madmen of you all; my curses on it.
"I do detest its impious policy."

Rise, rise, ye states (Oh, that my voice could fire
Your tardy wrath!) confound its selfish greatness,
Rase its proud walls, and lay its towers in ashes!
Pub. I'll bear no more------ [Drawing his sword.

Horatius. Distraction !-Force her off

Horatia. [Struggling.] Could I but prove the Helen to destroy