SCENE I.
_They sound to arms with great vehemence, and at the alarm there enter on the stage SCIPIO, JUGURTHA, and CAIUS MARIUS._
SCIPIO.
What meaneth this? Who sounds the call to arm At such a time, my captains? Have ye found Some maddened straggling men, who to their harm Would seek a sepulchre within this ground? Or hath some mutiny the war alarm Provoked with such an urgent, deafening sound? For this proud foe I hold so firmly now I have more terror of the friend, I vow.
_Enter QUINTUS FABIUS, with sword unsheathed._
QUINTUS FABIUS.
Calm, prudent general, thine angry mood, For this my blade doth know the cause right well, Which now hath cost thee many a soldier good, Of those who most in manliness excel. Two Numantines, with pride and daring rude, Whose deeds of courage my applause compel, O'erleaping the wide ditch and battled height, Have waged within thy camp a cruel fight. They sallied through our guards and pickets first, To face a thousand spears in open fray, And dealt their blows with such a fury curst, That to our very camp they hewed their way; Into Fabricius' tent with rage they burst, And made of strength and valour such display, That in an instant six stout men and true Were by their deadly steel pierced through and through. Ne'er did the burning bolt with speedier flight Cleave in its onward course the smitten air; Ne'er did the meteor, with its stream of light, More quickly pass athwart the heavens fair; Than passed these two, exulting in their might, Through middle of thy host, and soaked the bare Hard ground with Roman blood, which forth did stream Where'er their flashing swords were seen to gleam. With breast pierced through the bold Fabricius lay; Horatius fell with head cleft to the brain; Olmida lost his right arm in the fray, And little hope of life doth now remain; Our brave Estatius made a full display Of all his lithesome vigour, but in vain, For as he ran the Numantine to meet, His passage on to death was still more fleet. With speed of lightning, hurrying where they may, They ran from tent to tent, until they found Some scraps of biscuit, which they seized as prey. With fury, still unquenched, they turned them round; The one escaped by flight and got away, A thousand swords made t'other bite the ground; Whence I infer that hunger made them bold, And raised their daring to a pitch untold.
SCIPIO.
If worn with hunger, shut in utterly, They show such daring and such martial ire, What would they not have done, remaining free, With all their strength and ardour still entire? Unvanquished now, yet vanquished shall ye be, For all your reckless fury will expire, When matched against our prudence and our skill, Which have the power to crush the proudest will.
[_Exeunt SCIPIO and his men, and presently they sound to arms in the town, and MORANDRO enters wounded and streaming with blood, with a little white basket on his left arm, containing a small piece of biscuit stained with blood, and says_:
MORANDRO.
Com'st them not, Leoncio, say? Friend, what hath befallen thee? If thou comest not with me, How can I without thee stay? Friend, where art thou, tell me, where? Dying? dead? Alas! to grieve me, Never, never wouldst thou leave me, It was I who left thee there! Can it be that thou art lost, All thy flesh in pieces torn, Tokens of the price forlorn Which this bread of mine hath cost? Why did not that fatal blow, Which hath laid thee with the dead, Rather fall upon my head, Take my life, and end my woe? But the Fates, in cruel mood, Would not have me thus to die; Gave me greater misery, Gave to thee the higher good! Thou wilt bear the palm for ever, Of the lealest, truest friend; And to thee my soul I'll send, To excuse my rash endeavour; Quickly, for a craving dread Lures me on my death to meet At my dearest Lyra's feet, Giving her this bitter bread; Bread, which from the foe was taken,-- Taken? 'Tis more precious food, Purchased with the very blood Of two friends, by luck forsaken.
[_LYRA enters with some robes, which she is taking to be burned, and says_:
LYRA.
What is this mine eyes behold?
MORANDRO.
Him, whom soon no more thou'lt see, For my pains are crushing me With a speed I cannot hold. Ended, Lyra, is the strife, And my promise kept have I, That thou shouldst not have to die While I have one spark of life. Even better might I say, That thou soon wilt come to know, How thy strength with food will grow, And my life will pass away.
LYRA.
What say'st thou, Morandro dear?
MORANDRO.
Lyra, thou wilt lose thy hunger While, by fate in cruel anger, Life I lose, and end it here. But my blood so freely poured, Mingled with the bread ye eat, Will, belovèd one and sweet, But a bitter meal afford. Here thou hast the bread well-guarded By full eighty thousand fiends; And which cost two faithful friends Life, and all they most regarded. Love, that so for thee hath bled, Well, my lady, may'st thou cherish; I, that love thee so, must perish, And Leoncio lieth dead. My affection pure and bright, Take it with thy hand of love, That is food all price above, And will give thee most delight. Since in hours of joy and dole Thou hast been my love, I vow, Take, O take my body now, As thou hast received my soul.
[_He falls dead, and LYRA gathers him in the folds of the robes._
LYRA.
O Morandro, sweetest one, How art thou, what dost thou feel? How hath all thy strength of steel Passed away, and been undone? Woe is me, and is it true That my spouse is lying dead? O event of direst dread, That misfortune ever knew! Who hath made thee, sweetest friend, Having excellence supreme, Valiant lover to extreme, Luckless soldier at the end? Thou didst sally to the strife, Husband mine, in such a way, That to give my death delay Thou hast robbed me of my life! O thou bread, with blood bestained, Which for me was freely shed, I do not esteem thee bread, It is poison I have gained! To my mouth I'll carry thee, Not to give me nourishment, But to kiss, to my content, That dear blood which flowed for me!
[_At this point there enters a youth, speaking in an exhausted way, who is the brother of LYRA._
_Brother._
Lyra, sister, pained am I, For my sire is dead and gone, And my mother, left alone, Dieth now as I must die! Hunger fell hath laid them low; Sister mine, and hast thou bread? Bread, how slowly hast thou sped, For I cannot taste thee now! Hunger makes my throat to shrink With such rigour, though the bread Were as water pure instead, Not one droplet could I drink! Take it to thee, sister dear, For, my senses to confound, Now I see the bread abound, Whilst my life is ebbing here!
[_He falls down dead._
LYRA.
Brother dear, and art thou gone? Neither breath nor life hath he; Ill is good in some degree When it cometh all alone. Fortune, wherefore dost thou grieve me, With one loss and then another? Wherefore at one time together Orphan, widow, dost thou leave me? O thou cruel Roman host! How thy sword doth gird me round With two corpses on the ground, Spouse and brother, both are lost! Sweetest husband, tender brother, You I'll match in loving well, For in heaven or in hell Soon I'll see the one and other! In the manner of my death I to part from you am loath; For the sword and hunger both Have to take my latest breath. Rather will I give my breast Point of dagger, than this bread; For to one who lives in dread Death is gain and sweetest rest. Am I coward, can it be? Arm of mine, what dost thou fear? Sweetest husband, brother dear, I am coming, wait for me!
[_At this point there enters a woman flying, and behind her a Numantian soldier with a short sword in his hand to kill her._
_Woman._
Eternal Sire! O Jove compassionate! Protect me in this dire extremity!
_Soldier._
Although thou hurry with a speed more great, Beneath my ruthless hand thou hast to die!
[_Exit the woman, and LYRA says_:
LYRA.
Thy cutting sword, thy warlike arm of weight, On _me_ their fatal power, good soldier, try; Let her who prizes life with life remain, And take mine own, for it is full of pain!
_Soldier._
Although it is the Senate's stern command, That not one woman shall in life abide, Where shall we find the bold audacious hand Who would not from thy beauty turn aside? I, lady, am not one of such a band, Nor do I wish to be thy homicide; Some other hand and sword must strike for me, For I was born alone to worship thee.
LYRA.
This mercy which to me thou dost extend, O valiant soldier, I do swear to thee, And Heaven above its seal to this will lend, That I esteem it harshest cruelty! I would have held thee as a very friend, If with a steady hand and courage free Thou hadst transpierced my heart, so full of woes, And brought my wretched being to a close. But since thou wilt thy pity now bestow, Against my wish, and to increase my gloom, Then to my wretched spouse like pity show, And help me now to bear him to his tomb: Take thou my brother too, who lieth low Upon the ground, cut off with life in bloom; My husband went to death to save my life, While hunger bore my brother from the strife.
_Soldier._
To all that thou requirest I adhere, Provided on the way thou wilt relate What brought thy loving spouse, and brother dear, To this the last extremity of fate.
LYRA.
My friend, I have no strength to speak, I fear.
_Soldier._
Art thou exhausted? Is thy pain so great? Bear thou thy brother, for the load is less; And I thy spouse; it giveth more distress.
[_Exeunt, bearing the two bodies._