If, shunning faults which nobler bards commit,
He wants the force to strike th' attentive pit,
Be just, and tell him so; he asks advice,
Willing to learn, and would not ask it twice.
Your kind applause may bid him write-beware!
Or kinder censure teach him to forbear.
Is fix'd for death or conquest? [He bows. ] To me death,
Whoever conquers! [Aside.] I detain you, sir.
Commend me to my brothers; say, I wish-
But wherefore should I wish? The gods will crown
Their virtues with the just success they merit-
Yet let me ask you, sir-
Commands me hence. Ere this they have engag'd; And conquest's self would lose its charms to me, Should I not share the danger.
As the Soldier goes out, VALERIA enters, who looks first on him, and then on HORATIA.
Valeria. My dear Horatia, wherefore wilt thou
The means to be unhappy? Still enquiring,
Still more to be undone. I heard it too;
And flew to find thee, ere the fatal news
Had hurt thy quiet, that thou might'st have learnt it
From a friend's tongue, and dress'd in gentler terms.
Horatia. Oh, am lost, Valeria! lost to virtue.
Ev'n while my country's fate, the fate of Rome,
Hangs on the conqueror's sword, this breast can feel
A softer passion, and divide its cares.
Alba to me is Rome. Wouldst thou believe it?
I would have sent, by him thou saw'st departing,
Kind wishes to my brothers; but my tongue
Denied its office, and this rebel heart
Ev'n dreaded their success. Oh, Curiatius!
Why art thou there, or why an enemy ?
Valeria. Forbear this self-reproach; he is thy
And who can blame thy fears? If fortune make him
A while thy country's foe, she cannot cancel
Vows register'd above. What tho' the priest
Had not confirm'd it at the sacred altar;
Yet were your hearts united, and that union
Approv❜d by each consenting parent's choice.
Your brothers lov'd him as a friend, a brother;
And all the ties of kindred pleaded for him,
And still must plead, whate'er our heroes teach us,
Of patriot-strength. Our country may demand
We should be wretched, and we must obey;
But never can require us not to feel
That we are miserable: nature there
Will give the lie to virtue.
Horatia. True; yet sure
A Roman virgin should be more than woman.
Are we not early taught to mock at pain,
And look on danger with undaunted eyes?
But what are dangers, what the ghastliest form
Of death itself? Oh, were I only bid
To rush into the Tiber's foaming wave,
"Swol❜n with uncommon floods," or from the height Of yon Tarpeian rock, whose giddy steep
Has turn'd me pale with horror at the sight,
I'd think the task were nothing! but to bear
These strange vicissitudes of tort'ring pain,
To fear, to doubt, and to despair as I do-
Valeria. And why despair? Have we so idly learn'd
The noblest lessons of our infant days,
Our trust above? Does there not still remain
The wretch's last retreat, the gods, Horatia?
'Tis from their awful wills our evils spring,
And at their altars may we find relief.
Say, shall we thither -Look not thus dejected,
But answer me. A confidence in them,
Ev'n in this crisis of our fate, will calm
Thy troubled soul, and fill thy breast with hope. Horatia. Talk not of hope; "the wretch on yonder
"Who hears the victor's threats, and sees his sword "Impending o'er him, feels no surer fate,
"Tho' less delay'd than mine." What should I hope?
That Alba conquer?-Curs'd be every thought Which looks that way! "The shrieks of captive
"matrons
Sound in my ears!"
Valeria. Forbear, forbear, Horatia;
Nor fright me with the thought. Rome cannot fall.
Think on the glorious battles she has fought;
Has she once fail'd, though oft expos'd to danger;
And has not her immortal founder promis'd
That she should rise the mistress of the world?
Horatia. And if Rome conquers, then Horatia dies.
Valeria. Why wilt thou form vain images of horror.
Industrious to be wretched? Is it then
Become impossible that Rome should triumph,
And Curiatius live? He must, he shall;
Protecting gods shall spread their shields around him, And love shall combat in Horatia's cause.
Horatia. Think'st thou so meanly of him?-No,
Valeria,
His soul's too great to give me such a trial;
Or could it ever come, I think, myself,
Thus lost in love, thus abject as I am,
I should despise the slave who dar'd survive
His country's ruin. Ye immortal powers!
I love his fame too well, his spotless honour,
At least I hope I do, to wish him mine
On any terms which he must blush to own.
Horatius. [Without.] What ho! Vindicus.
Horatia. What means that shout "Might we
"not ask, Valeria ?"
Didst thou not wish me to the temple -Come,
I will attend thee thither; the kind gods
Perhaps may ease this throbbing heart, and spread
At least a temporary calm within.
Valeria. Alas, Horatia, 'tis not to the temple
That thou wouldst fly; the shout alone alarms thee. But do not thus anticipate thy fate;
Why shouldst thou learn each chance of varying
"Which takes a thousand turns, and shifts the scene "From bad to good, as fortune smiles or frowns " Stay but an hour perhaps, and thou shalt know The whole at once.-I'll send-I'll fly myself To ease thy doubts, and bring thee news of joy. Horatia. Again, and nearer too-I must attend thee.
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