Chapter 1
_Enter MELANTHON and PHILOTAS._
_Mel._ Yet, yet a moment; hear, Philotas, hear me.
_Phil._ No more; it must not be.
_Mel._ Obdurate man; Thus wilt thou spurn me, when a king distress'd, A good, a virtuous, venerable king, The father of his people, from a throne Which long with ev'ry virtue he adorn'd, Torn by a ruffian, by a tyrant's hand, Groans in captivity? In his own palace Lives a sequester'd prisoner? Oh! Philotas, If thou hast not renounc'd humanity; Let me behold my sovereign; once again Admit me to his presence; let me see My royal master.
_Phil._ Urge thy suit no further; Thy words are fruitless; Dionysius' orders Forbid access; he is our sov'reign now; 'Tis his to give the law, mine to obey.
_Mel._ Thou canst not mean it: his to give the law! Detested spoiler!--his! a vile usurper! Have we forgot the elder Dionysius, Surnam'd the Tyrant? To Sicilia's throne The monster waded through whole seas of blood. Sore groan'd the land beneath his iron rod, Till rous'd at length Evander came from Greece, Like Freedom's Genius came, and sent the tyrant, Stript of the crown, and to his humble rank Once more reduc'd, to roam, for vile subsistence, A wandering sophist through the realms of Greece.
_Phil._ Whate'er his right, to him in Syracuse All bend the knee; his the supreme dominion, And death and torment wait his sovereign nod.
_Mel._ But soon that pow'r shall cease: behold his walls Now close encircled by the Grecian bands; Timoleon leads them on; indignant Corinth Sends her avenger forth, array'd in terror, To hurl ambition from a throne usurp'd, And bid all Sicily resume her rights.
_Phil._ Thou wert a statesman once, Melanthon; now, Grown dim with age, thy eye pervades no more The deep-laid schemes which Dionysius plans. Know then, a fleet from Carthage even now Stems the rough billow; and, ere yonder sun, That now declining seeks the western wave, Shall to the shades of night resign the world, Thou'lt see the Punic sails in yonder bay, Whose waters wash the walls of Syracuse.
_Mel._ Art thou a stranger to Timoleon's name? Intent to plan, and circumspect to see All possible events, he rushes on Resistless in his course! Your boasted master Scarce stands at bay; each hour the strong blockade Hems him in closer, and ere long thou'lt view Oppression's iron rod to fragments shiver'd! The good Evander then----
_Phil._ Alas, Evander Will ne'er behold the golden time you look for!
_Mel._ How! not behold it! Say, Philotas, speak; Has the fell tyrant,--have his felon murderers----
_Phil._ As yet, my friend, Evander lives.
_Mel._ And yet Thy dark half-hinted purpose--lead me to him; If thou hast murder'd him----
_Phil._ By Heav'n, he lives.
_Mel._ Then bless me with one tender interview. Thrice has the sun gone down, since last, these eyes Have seen the good old king; say, why is this? Wherefore debarr'd his presence? Thee, Philotas, The troops obey, that guard the royal pris'ner; Each avenue to thee is open; thou Canst grant admittance; let me, let me see him.
_Phil._ Entreat no more; the soul of Dionysius Is ever wakeful; rent with all the pangs That wait on conscious guilt.
_Mel._ But when dun night----
_Phil._ Alas! it cannot be: but mark my words. Let Greece urge on her general assault. Despatch some friend, who may o'erleap the walls, And tell Timoleon, the good old Evander Has liv'd three days, by Dionysius' order, Lock'd up from ev'ry sustenance of nature, And life, now wearied out, almost expires.
_Mel._ If any spark of virtue dwell within thee, Lead me, Philotas, lead me to his prison.
_Phil._ The tyrant's jealous care hath mov'd him thence.
_Mel._ Ha! mov'd him, say'st thou?
_Phil._ At the midnight hour, Silent convey'd him up the steep ascent, To where the elder Dionysius form'd, On the sharp summit of the pointed rock, Which overhangs the deep, a dungeon drear: Cell within cell, a labyrinth of horror, Deep cavern'd in the cliff, where many a wretch, Unseen by mortal eye, has groan'd in anguish, And died obscure, unpitied, and unknown.
_Mel._ Clandestine murderer! Yes, there's the scene Of horrid massacre. Full oft I've walk'd, When all things lay in sleep and darkness hush'd. Yes, oft I've walk'd the lonely sullen beach, And heard the mournful sound of many a corse Plung'd from the rock into the wave beneath, That murmurs on the shore. And means he thus To end a monarch's life? Oh! grant my pray'r; My timely succour may protect his days; The guard is yours----
_Phil._ Forbear; thou plead'st in vain; And though I feel soft pity throbbing here; Though each emotion prompts the gen'rous deed, I must not yield; it were assur'd destruction! Farewell, despatch a message to the Greeks; I'll to my station; now thou know'st the worst.
[_Exit._
_Mel._ Oh, lost Evander! Lost Euphrasia too! How will her gentle nature bear the shock Of a dear father, thus in ling'ring pangs A prey to famine, like the veriest wretch Whom the hard hand of misery hath grip'd! In vain she'll rave, with impotence of sorrow; Perhaps, provoke her fate: Greece arms in vain, All's lost; Evander dies!
_Enter CALIPPUS._
_Cal._ Where is the King? Our troops, that sallied to attack the foe, Retire disordered; to the eastern gate The Greeks pursue: Timoleon rides in blood! Arm, arm, and meet their fury!
_Mel._ To the citadel Direct thy footsteps; Dionysius there Marshals a chosen band.
_Cal._ Do thou call forth Thy hardy veterans; haste, or all is lost! [_Exit._
[_Warlike Music._
_Mel._ Now, ye just gods, now look propitious down; Now give the Grecian sabre tenfold edge, And save a virtuous king! [_Warlike Music._
_Enter EUPHRASIA._
_Eup._ War on, ye heroes, Ye great assertors of a monarch's cause! Let the wild tempest rage. Melanthon, ha! Did'st thou not hear the vast tremendous roar? Down tumbling from its base the eastern tow'r, Burst on the tyrant's ranks, and on the plain Lies an extended ruin.
_Mel._ Still new horrors Increase each hour, and gather round our heads.
_Eup._ The glorious tumult lifts my tow'ring soul. Once more, Melanthon, once again, my father Shall mount Sicilia's throne.
_Mel._ Alas! that hour Would come with joy to ev'ry honest heart, Would shed divinest blessings from its wing; But no such hour in all the round of time, I fear, the fates averse will e'er lead on.
_Eup._ And still, Melanthon, still does pale despair Depress thy spirit? Lo! Timoleon comes Arm'd with the pow'r of Greece; the brave, the just, God-like Timoleon! ardent to redress, He guides the war, and gains upon his prey. A little interval shall set the victor Within our gates triumphant.
_Mel._ Still my fears Forbode for thee. 'Would thou hadst left this place, When hence your husband, the brave Phocion, fled, Fled with your infant son!
_Eup._ In duty fixed, Here I remain'd, while my brave, gen'rous Phocion, Fled with my child, and from his mother's arms Bore my sweet little one. Full well thou know'st The pangs I suffer'd in that trying moment. Did I not weep? Did I not rave and shriek, And by the roots tear my dishevell'd hair? Did I not follow to the sea-beat shore, Resolv'd with him, and with my blooming boy, To trust the winds and waves?
_Mel._ Deem not, Euphrasia, I e'er can doubt thy constancy and love.
_Eup._ Melanthon, how I loved, the gods, who saw Each secret image that my fancy form'd, The gods can witness how I lov'd my Phocion, And yet I went not with him. Could I do it? Could I desert my father? Could I leave The venerable man, who gave me being, A victim here in Syracuse, nor stay To watch his fate, to visit his affliction, To cheer his prison hours, and with the tear Of filial virtue bid ev'n bondage smile?
_Mel._ The pious act, whate'er the fates intend, Shall merit heartfelt praise.
_Eup._ Yes, Phocion, go, Go with my child, torn from this matron breast, This breast that still should yield its nurture to him, Fly with my infant to some happier shore, If he be safe, Euphrasia dies content. Till that sad close of all, the task be mine To tend a father with delighted care, To smooth the pillow of declining age, See him sink gradual into mere decay, On the last verge of life watch ev'ry look, Explore each fond unutterable wish, Catch his last breath, and close his eyes in peace.
_Mel._ I would not add to my afflictions; yet My heart misgives; Evander's fatal period----
_Eup._ Still is far off; the gods have sent relief, And once again I shall behold him king.
_Mel._ Alas! those glitt'ring hopes but lend a ray To gild the clouds, that hover o'er your head, Soon to rain sorrow down, and plunge you deeper In black despair.
_Eup._ The spirit-stirring virtue, That glows within me, ne'er shall know despair. No, I will trust the gods. Desponding man! Hast thou not heard with what resistless ardour Timoleon drives the tumult of the war? Hast thou not heard him thund'ring at our gates? The tyrant's pent up in his last retreat; Anon thou'lt see his battlements in dust, His walls, his ramparts, and his tow'rs in ruin; Destruction pouring in on ev'ry side, Pride and oppression at their utmost need, And nought to save him in his hopeless hour.
[_A flourish of Trumpets._
_Mel._ Ha! the fell tyrant comes.--Beguile his rage, And o'er your sorrows cast a dawn of gladness.
_Enter DIONYSIUS, CALIPPUS, OFFICERS, &c._
_Dio._ The vain presumptuous Greek! His hopes of conquest, Like a gay dream, are vanish'd into air. Proudly elate, and flush'd with easy triumph O'er vulgar warriors, to the gates of Syracuse He urg'd the war, till Dionysius' arm Let slaughter loose, and taught his dastard train To seek their safety by inglorious flight.
_Eup._ O, Dionysius, if distracting fears Alarm this throbbing bosom, you will pardon A frail and tender sex. Should ruthless war Roam through our streets, and riot here in blood, Where shall the lost Euphrasia find a shelter? In vain she'll kneel, and clasp the sacred altar. O let me then, in mercy let me seek The gloomy mansion, where my father dwells; I die content, if in his arms I perish.
_Dio._ Thou lovely trembler, hush thy fears to rest. The Greek recoils; like the impetuous surge That dashes on the rock, there breaks, and foams, And backward rolls into the sea again. All shall be well in Syracuse: a fleet Appears in view, and brings the chosen sons Of Carthage. From the hill that fronts the main, I saw their canvass swelling with the wind, While on the purple wave the western sun Glanc'd the remains of day.
_Eup._ Yet till the fury Of war subside, the wild, the horrid interval In safety let me sooth to dear delight In a lov'd father's presence: from his sight, For three long days, with specious feign'd excuse Your guards debarr'd me. Oh! while yet he lives, Indulge a daughter's love; worn out with age Soon must he seal his eyes in endless night, And with his converse charm my ear no more.
_Dio._ Why thus anticipate misfortune? Still Evander mocks the injuries of time. Calippus, thou survey the city round; Station the centinels, that no surprise Invade the unguarded works, while drowsy night Weighs down the soldier's eye. Afflicted fair, Thy couch invites thee. When the tumult's o'er, Thou'lt see Evander with redoubled joy. Though now unequal to the cares of empire His age sequester him, yet honours high Shall gild the ev'ning of his various day.
_Eup._ For this benignity accept my thanks. They gush in tears, and my heart pours its tribute.
_Dio._ Perdiccas, ere the morn's revolving light Unveil the face of things, do thou despatch A well-oar'd galley to Hamilcar's fleet; At the north point of yonder promontory, Let some selected officer instruct him To moor his ships, and issue on the land. Then may Timoleon tremble: vengeance then Shall overwhelm his camp, pursue his bands, With fatal havoc, to the ocean's margin, And cast their limbs to glut the vulture's famine, In mingled heaps upon the naked shore.
[_Exit DIONYSIUS._
_Eup._ What do I hear? Melanthon, can it be? If Carthage comes, if her perfidious sons List in his cause, the dawn of freedom's gone.
_Mel._ Woe, bitt'rest woe, impends; thou wouldst not think----
_Eup._ How? speak! unfold.
_Mel._ My tongue denies its office.
_Eup._ How is my father? Say, Melanthon----
_Mel._ He, I fear to shock thee with the tale of horror! Perhaps he dies this moment.--Since Timoleon First form'd his lines round this beleagur'd city, No nutriment has touch'd Evander's lips. In the deep caverns of the rock imprison'd He pines in bitterest want.
_Eup._ Well, my heart, Well do your vital drops forget to flow.
_Mel._ Despair, alas! is all the sad resource Our fate allows us now.
_Eup._ Yet, why despair? Is that the tribute to a father due? Blood is his due, Melanthon; yes, the blood, The vile, black blood, that fills the tyrant's veins, Would graceful look upon my dagger's point. Come, vengeance, come, shake off the feeble sex, Sinew my arm, and guide it to his heart. And thou, O filial piety, that rul'st My woman's breast, turn to vindictive rage; Assume the port of justice; show mankind Tyrannic guilt hath never dar'd in Syracuse, Beyond the reach of virtue.
_Mel._ Moderate your zeal, Nor let him hear these transports of the soul, These wild upbraidings.
_Eup._ Shall Euphrasia's voice Be hush'd to silence, when a father dies? Shall not the monster hear his deeds accurst? Shall he not tremble, when a daughter comes, Wild with her griefs, and terible with wrongs; Fierce in despair, all nature in her cause Alarm'd and rous'd with horror? Melanthon come; my wrongs will lend me force; The weakness of my sex is gone; this arm Feels tenfold strength; this arm shall do a deed For Heav'n and earth, for men and gods to wonder at! This arm shall vindicate a father's cause.
ACT THE SECOND.