Nic. This action of the queen sits near my heart.

Pyth. She bade me tell thee-But why waste
we time?

Thou now may'st enter at the postern gate,
Unseen by all.

Nic. Why didst thou not rush in, and stop the
feast?

Thy speedy presence there had saved us all. Pyth. What could I do? The queen was there already,

And all seemed peace and joy; could I suspect That poison lurked beneath so fair a seeming? Nic. She breaks through my designs.-Unhappy woman!

My soul bleeds for her, and confusion hangs On every rising thought. The dear, dear boy! Where is he? at the banquet still?

Pyth. He is.

Nic. And where Creusa?
Pyth. I already told thee,

But thou regardest not, in the temple's gloom
Retired she sits, expecting thy approach.
We there may settle all.

Nic. I fear her much.

Thou seest her passions are too near concerned To be of use to us; thy cooler sense

Must here direct us. Doth the poison's power
Affect her yet?

Pyth. Not yet; I would have tried
Some powerful antidote to quell its force;
But she refuses life, and only begs
To see her son and thee.

Nic. I will attend

Upon the instant. But first hear me, Pythia;
Thou seest on what a precipice we stand;
It were in vain to hope we could conceal

The truth from Xuthus; from the rest we may; 'Tis thy task, therefore

Pyth. What? to own the fraud,

And publish to the king, that Delphi's shrine
Is not oracular? Ha!

Nic. To the king

'Twere better sure to publish the deceit

Nic. What yet? To Phorbas thou with ease May'st own the truth. He will not start at fraud In sacred things. But see, the queen approaches, Impatient of our stay. She changes not! The bloom of health is still upon her cheek! Fain would I hope-But hopes, alas! are vain.

What hast thou done, Creusa?

Cre. [Entering.] Saved Ilyssus!

Nic. Thou mightst have lived with honour.
Cre. Lived! good Heaven!

I start, I tremble at the thoughts of life.
Canst thou reflect on what I had designed,
On what I am, and what, alas! I have been,
And not perceive death was my only refuge?
Am I not Xuthus' wife? and what art thou?
O hadst thou seen the torments of my soul,
When in one hasty moment it ran o'er
The business of an age, weighed all events,
Saw Xuthus, thee, Ilyssus, Athens, bleed
In one promiscuous carnage! Light, at length,
Burst through the gloom, and heaven's own voice
proclaimed

One victim might suffice.

For Xuthus honour strove, and mightier love Assumed Nicander's cause. Who, then, could

fall?

Could Xuthus? Could Nicander!-No; Creusa. Nic. Would thou hadst been less kind!-But, O my queen,

To blame thee now were vain.

Cre. To blame! 'tis praise,

'Tis triumph I demand. He lives! he reigns!
Young Ion lives! young Ion reigns in Athens !
O bring him, Pythia, bring him to my arms;
Let me but pour a last sad blessing o'er him,
And death has lost its terrors.
How now, Lycea ?

this,

To hide it? By Creusa's art thou say'st

He is already bound in solemn oaths
To leave Ilyssus heir to Athens' throne.
Canst thou not add still stronger oaths, or ere
Thou dost reveal the secret of our fate?

Then who shall dare to break them? Shall the king?

Thou know'st his scrupulous piety extends Almost to weakness. What should tempt him to it?

Creusa dead can frame no schemes against him; The boy to him alone must owe his greatness; And for Nicander, never more shall Greece Hear his forgotten name.

Pyth. It must be so; And yet

Nic. Earth and Heaven! What say'st thou, maid?

Cre. Ŏ let me fly to save him! Here shall their poniards

Nic. Rest thou there, Creusa. Thy embassies to-day have proved too fatal. My life for his I save him from the stroke, And on the instant send him to thy arms. Now, fate, be doubly mine!

[Exit.

Cre. Off, let me go, I will not be restrained. They tear him piecemeal!

Pyth. Patience, mighty queen!
What man can do Nicander will perform.

Cre. He is a father only to my child,
He cannot tell them what a mother feels.
Phorbas was born the curse of me and mine.
I might have known to what his impious rage

Gods! must I never know sweet peace again! Not even in death have rest!

Pyth. Behold, who comes

Enter NICANDER.

At Heaven's high will.

Enter ILYSSUS.

Cre. It is, it is Ilyssus

My son, my son !

Ilys. Good Heavens ! and do I live

To see a parent melt in fondness o'er me !-
Aletes saved me from the soldiers' arms,
And bade me fly to find a mother here.
Art thou, indeed, that mother, mighty queen!
I call thee so? Thou art! thy looks,
And
may
Thy tears, thy kind embraces-all, all proclaim
The truth.-Ŏ let me thus, thus on my knees-
Cre. Rise, rise, my child; I am, I am thy mo-
ther.

Ilys. O sacred sound, Ilyssus is no more
That outcast youth. A mother and a queen
He finds at once.

Cre. But art thou safe, my child?

Hast thou no wound?

Ilys. The old grey-headed man,

Who brought this morn the news of thy arrival, Had raised against my breast his eager sword, Defenceless I; when good Aletes came

And snatched me from the stroke. I would have staid,

Unarmed with him have staid, but his command
Was absolute, that I should fly to find,
What I have found, a mother! [Embracing.
Yet, oh, queen!

Why am I thus encompassed round with wonder?

May I not know this riddle of my fate?
Why first condemned to pass my infant days
In this obscure retreat? If I am thine,
Thy son, illustrious queen, sure I was born
To thrones and empires?

Cre. Thou art born to thrones,

And shalt in Athens reign.

Ilys. As Xuthus' heir?

Is Xuthus, then, my sire? Forgive me, queen,

I have a thousand, and a thousand doubts

Can Xuthus be my sire?

Pyth. Forbear, Пlyssus,

live

Pyth. Phorbas sure

Should be informed.

Nic. Phorbas has breathed his last; And the bribed slave, who mixed the poisonous draught,

Fell by this hand.-Ilyssus, oh, farewell!
I will not bid adieu to thee, Creusa;
Thy colour changes, and the lamp of life
Fades in thy eye; we soon shall meet again.
Ilyssus, oh!-

Ilys. How hard he grasps my hand!
My lord, my father! Have I learned so late
To call thee by that name, and must I lose,
-Good Heaven! she grasps me
For ever lose?

too! What means it, Pythia? the cold damps of death Are on her.

Cre. Oh! my child, enquire no farther; 'Tis fitting we should part. Lycea, Pythia, Intreat of Xuthus-yet I need not fear

His goodness; though I wronged him, foully wronged him,

He yet will prove a father to my child,
And from the world conceal the fatal truth.

Oh, I am cold-what bolts of ice shoot through

How

me! my

limbs shiver!-Nearer yet, my child;

For ever on thee.- -Oh! it will not be-
-Oh-
Ev'n thou art lost, Ilyssus!-

-Farewell. [Dies.

Ilys. She dies, she dies! Was I, then, only mocked

With a vain dream of bliss, to be plunged back In deeper misery? Did I but hear

The tender name of child breathed fondly o'er

me,

To make me feel what 'tis to loss that name?

That oath?

Xut. I do, by Heaven!
Pyth. Ask here no more.
The fatal tale is for thy private ear.
Retire, and learn it all. For poor Creusa,
She wronged not thee, upon herself alone
She drew Heaven's vengeance. And too surely
proves,

That murder, but intentional, not wrought
To horrid act, before the eternal throne
Stands forth the first of crimes. Who dare assume,
Unwarranted, Heaven's high prerogative
O'er life and death, with double force shall find
Turned on themselves the mischiefs they design-
ed.
[Exeunt omnes.

Othman ?

Slave. He does; and waits admittance.

Oth. Did he tell

His name and quality?

Slave. That he declined:

But called himself thy friend.

Oth. Where didst thou see him?

Sadi. Stand off-pollute me not!

These honest arms, though worn with want, dis

dain

Thy gorgeous trappings, earned by foul dishonour.
Oth. Forbear thy rash reproaches: for beneath
This habit, which, to thy mistaken eye,
Confirms my guilt, I wear a heart as true

I spied him

Musing amid the ruins of yon tower,
That overhangs the flood. On my approach,
With aspect stern, and words of import dark,
He questioned me of Othman. Then the tear
Stole from his eye. But when I talked of power
And courtly honours here conferred on thee,
His frown grew darker: 'All I wish,' he cried,
Is to confer with him, and then to die!'
Oth. What may this mean?-Conduct the
stranger to me.
[Exit Slave.

Perhaps some worthy citizen, returned
From voluntary exile to Algiers,

Once known in happier days.

Sadi. Why then beneath

This cursed roof, this black usurper's palace,
Darest thou to draw infected air, and live
The slave of insolence! Why lick the dust
Beneath his feet, who laid Algiers in ruin?
But age, which should have taught thee honest
caution,

Has taught thee treachery!

Oth. Mistaken man!

Could passion prompt me to licentious speech Like thine

Sadi. Peace, false one! peace! The slave to power

Still wears a pliant tongue.-Oh, shame! to dwell

With murder, lust, and rapine! did he not
Come from the depths of Barca's solitude,
With fair pretence of faith and firm alliance?
Did not our grateful king, with open arms,
Receive him as his guest? O fatal hour!
Did he not, then, with hot, adulterous eye,
Gaze on the queen Zaphira? Yes, 'twas lust,
Lust gave the infernal whisper to his soul,
And bade him murder, if he would enjoy!
O complicated horrors! hell-born treachery!
Then fell our country, when good Selim died!
Yet thou, pernicious traitor, unabashed,
Canst wear the murderer's badge!

Oth. Mistaken man!

Yet hear me, Sadi

Sadi. What can dishonour plead?

Oth. Yet blame not prudence.

knave!

The traitor's ready mask!

Oth. Yet still I love thee;

Still, unprovoked by thy intemperate zeal:
Could passion prompt me to licentious speech,
Bethink thee!-might I not reproach thy flight
With the foul names of fear and perfidy?
Didst thou not fly, when Barbarossa's sword
Reeked with the blood of thy brave country-
men?

What then did I?-Beneath this hated roof,
In pity to my widowed queen-
Sadi. In pity?

Oth. Yes, Sadi; Heaven is my witness, pity
swayed me.

Sadi. Words, words! dissimulation all, and guilt!

Oth. With honest guile I did inroll my name In the black list of Barbarossa's friends: In hope, that some propitious hour might rise, When Heaven would dash the murderer from his throne,

And give young Selim to his orphaned people.

Sadi. Indeed! can'st thou be true?

Oth. By Heaven, I am.

Sadi. Why then dissemble thus ?
Oth. Have I not told thee?

I held it vain to stem the tyrant's power
By the weak efforts of an ill-timed rage.

Sadi. Enough: I find thee honest; and with
pride

Will join thy counsels. This, my faithful arm,
Wasted with misery, shall gain new nerves
For brave resolves. Can aught, my friend, be
done?

With ceaseless hate, pursues her exiled son; And-O detested monster! [He weeps.

Sadi. Yet more deeds Of cruelty! Just Heaven!

Oth. His rage pursues

The virtuous youth, even into foreign climes.
Ere this, perhaps, he bleeds. A murdering ruffian
Is sent to watch his steps, and plunge the dagger
Into his guiltless breast.

Sadi. Is this thy faith!

Tamely to witness to such deeds of horror! Give me thy poignard; lead me to the tyrant. What though surrounding guards—

Oth. Repress thy rage.

Thou wilt alarm the palace, wilt involve
Thyself, thy friend, in ruin. Haste thee hence;
Haste to the remnant of our loyal friends,
And let maturer councils rule thy zeal.

Sadi. Yet let us ne'er forget our prince's

wrongs.

Remember, Othman, (and let vengeance rise)
How in the pangs of death, and in his gore
Weltering, we found our prince! The deadly
dagger

Deep in his heart was fixed! His royal blood,
The life-blood of his people, o'er the bath
Ran purple! Oh, remember! and revenge!
Oth. Doubt not my zeal. But haste, and seek
our friends.

Near to the western port Almanzor dwells,
Yet unseduced by Barbarossa's power.
He will disclose to thee if aught be heard
Of Selim's safety, or (what more I dread)
Of Selim's death. Thence best may our resolves
Be drawn hereafter. But let caution guide thee.
For in these walks, where tyranny and guilt
Usurp the throne, wakeful suspicion dwells,
And squint-eyed jealousy, prone to pervert
Even looks and smiles to treason.