And spread their flames resistless o'er the world? nature Shrinks at the hated task, for thy destruction; When, summoned by the sultan's clamorous fury, We asked, with timorous tongue, the offender's name, He struck his tortured breast, and roared, 'Irene!' We started at the sound; again enquired; Again his thundering voice returned, Irene!" Irene. Whence is this rage? what barbarous tongue has wronged me? What fraud misleads him, or what crimes incense? Has. Expiring Cali named Irene's chamber The place appointed for his master's death. Irene. Irene's chamber! From my faithful bosom Far be the thought !-But hear my protestation. Car. 'Tis ours, alas! to punish, not to judge! Not called to try the cause, we heard the sentence, Ordained the mournful messengers of death. Irene. Some ill-designing statesman's base intrigue! Some cruel stratagem of jealous beauty! Enter ABDALLA, he stops short and listens. queen, See the last witness of thy guilt and fear, That thus you parley with detected treason? Irene. O let me but be heard, nor fear from me 10 Horror and agony, are in that sound! Car. Could we reverse the sentence of the sultan, Our bleeding bosoms plead Irene's cause. But cries and tears are vain; prepare, with patience, To meet that fate we can delay no longer. [The mutes, at the sign, lay hold of her. Abd. Dispatch, ye lingering slaves! or nimbler hands, Quick at my call, shall execute your charge; Irene. Grant me one hour, O grant me but a Abdalla, bid thy troubled breast be calm; Has. [To CAR.] Does not thy bosom, for I know thee tender, A stranger to the oppressor's savage joy, Car. Her piercing cries yet fill the loadedar, Abd. Frame your report with circumspective art, Inflame her crimes, exalt your own obedience, But let no thoughtless hint involve Abdalla, Car. What need of caution to report the fate Of her the sultan's voice condemned to die? Or why should he, whose violence of duty Has served his prince so well, demand our silence? Abd. Perhaps my zeal, too fierce, betrayed my prudence; Perhaps my warmth exceeded my commission; Nor hope his fortune while thou want'st his worth. Has. The sultan comes, still gloomy, still enraged. Enter MAHOMET and MUSTAPHA. Mah. Where's this fair traitress? Where's this smiling mischief, Whom neither vows could fix, nor favours bind? Has. Thine orders, mighty sultan! are performed, And all Irene now is breathless clay! Car. Your fierce impatience forced us from your presence, Urged us to speed, and bade us banish pity, Mah. Your hasty zeal defrauds the claim of Nor trust our passions with her fatal charms. Mur. Forgive, great sultan! that, by fate prevented, I bring a tardy message from Irene. Mah. Some artful wile of counterfeited love! Some soft decoy to lure me to destruction! And thou, the cursed accomplice of her treason, Declare thy message, and expect thy doom. Mur. The queen requested, that a chosen troop Might intercept the traitor Greek, Demetrius, Then lingering with his captive mistress here. Mus. The Greek, Demetrius, whom the expiring Bassa Declared the chief associate of his guilt! Mah. A chosen troop-to intercept-Demetrius The queen requested-Wretch, repeat the mes sage; Mah. What hadst thou lost by slighting those commands? Thy life perhaps-Were but Irene spared, With half the grovelling slaves that load the globe. sultan, Such ills are sent for souls like thine to conquer. ed to triumph, No more I burn for fame or for dominion; Success and conquests now are empty sounds. Remorse and anguish seize on all my breast; Those groves, whose shades embowered the dear Irene, Heard her last cries, and fanned her dying beauties, Shall hide me from the tasteless world for ever. [MAH. goes out and returns. Yet ere I quit the sceptre of dominion, Let one just act conclude the hateful day. Hew down, ye guards, those vassals of destruction, [Pointing to HAS. and CAR. Those hounds of blood, that catch the hint to kill; Bear off, with eager haste, the unfinished sentence, And speed the stroke, lest mercy should o'ertake them. Car. Then hear, great Mahomet, the voice of truth! Mah. Hear? shall I hear thee! didst thou hear Irene? Car. Hear but a moment! Mah. Hadst thou heard a moment, 7 Thou might'st have lived, for thou hadst spared Irene. Car. I heard her, pitied her, and wished to save her. Mah. And wished-Be still thy fate to wish in vain! Car. I heard, and softened, till Abdalla brought Her final doom, and hurried her destruction. Mah. Abdalla brought her doom! Abdalla brought it! The wretch, whose guilt, declared by tortured Cali, My rage and grief had hid from my remembrance! Abdalla brought her doom! Has. Abdalla brought it, While she yet begged to plead her cause before Rushed out and seized me, thoughtless and unarmed, Breathless, amazed, and on the guarded beach Detained me, till Demetrius set me free. Mus. So sure the fall of greatness raised on crimes; So fixed the justice of all-conscious Heaven. EPILOGUE. SPOKEN BY ASPASIA. MARRY a Turk! a haughty tyrant king, But how the devil should he please us all? THE ROMAN FATHER. BY WHITEHEAD. PROLOGUE. Stripp'd each luxuriant plume from fancy's wings, These are his arts; if these cannot atone ACT I. SCENE I.-A Room in HORATIUS's House. A Soldier crosses the Stage, HORATIA following. Horatia. Stay, soldier. As you parted from my father, Something I overheard, of near concern, Sold. 'Twas so resolved This morning, lady, ere I left the camp. Horatia. Alas! I hoped The kind remorse, which touched the kindred states, And made their swords fall lightly on the breasts Of foes they could not hate, might have produced❘ A milder resolution. Then this day Is fixed for death or conquest? [He bows.] To me death, Whoever conquers! [Aside.] I detain you, sir. Horatia. Oh, I am lost, Valeria, lost to virtue ! Even 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? And who can blame thy fears? If fortune make him Awhile thy country's foe, she cannot cancel us, Of patriot strength. Our country may demand Horatia. True; yet sure A Roman virgin should be more than woman. Valeria. And why despair? Have we so idly The noblest lessons of our infant days, yonder plain, Who hears the victor's threats, and sees his sword Impending o'er him, feels no surer fate, Though less delayed than mine! What should I hope? That Alba conquer?-Cursed be every thought Which looks that way! The shrieks of captive matrons Sound in my cars! Valeria. Forbear, forbear, Horatia, Nor fright me with the thought. Rome cannot fall. Think on the glorious battles she has fought; Has she once failed, though oft exposed to danger? Valeria. Forbear this self-reproach; he is thy And has not her immortal founder promised, husband, That she should rise the mistress of the world |