Some hidden thunder in the stores of Heaven, Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man Who owes his greatness to his country's ruin? Por. Believe me, Marcus, 'tis an impious greatness, And mix'd with too much horror to be envied. How does the lustre of our father's actions, Through the dark cloud of ills that cover him, Break out, and burn with more triumphant brightness! His suff'rings shine, and spread a glory round him: Greatly unfortunate, he fights the cause Against a world, a base, degenerate world, Pent up in Utica, he vainly forms us. The ways of Heaven are dark and intricate: Passion unpitied, and successless love, But I must hide it, for I know thy temper. Now Marcus, now thy virtue's on the proof: Put forth thy utmost strength, work ev'ry nerve, And call up all thy father in thy soul. To quell the tyrant love, and guard thy heart On this weak side, where most our nature fails, Would be a conquest worthy Cato's son [take, Marc. Portius, the counsel which I cannot Instead of healing, but upbraids my weakness. Bid me for honor plunge into a war Of thickest foes, and rush on certain death, Then shalt thou see that Marcus is not slow To follow glory, and confess his father. Love is not to be reason'd down, or lost In high ambition, or a thirst of greatness: Tis second life, it grows into the soul, Warms ev'ry vein, and beats in ev'ry pulse: I feel it here: my resolution melts. [prince, Por. Behold young Juba, the Numidian With how much care he forms himself to glory. And breaks the fierceness of his native temper, Marc. Portius, no more! your words leave stings behind 'em. Whene'er did Juba, or did Portius show well. Fling but th' appearance of dishonor on it, pity. [eyes Por. Heaven knows I pity thee. Behold my E'en whilst I speak-do they not swim in tears? Were but my heart as naked to thy view, Marcus would see it bleed in his behalf. Marc. Why then dost treat me with rebukes, instead Of kind condoling cares, and friendly sorrow? Por. O Marcus! did I know the way to ease Thy troubled heart, and mitigate thy pains, Marcus, believe me, I could die to do it. Marc. Thou best of brothers, and thou best of friends! Pardon a weak, distemper'd soul, that swells With sudden gusts, and sinks as soon in calms, The sport of passions. But Sempronius comes: He must not find this softness hanging on me. [Ex. Marc. Enter Sempronius. Sem. Conspiracies no sooner should be form'd Than executed. What means Portius here? I like not that cold youth. I must dissemble, And speak a language foreign to my heart. [Aside. Good-morrow, Portius; let us once embrace, Once more embrace, while yet we both are free. To-morrow, should we thus express our friendEach might receive a slave into his arms. [ship, This sun, perhaps, this morning's sun's the last That e'er shall rise on Roman liberty. Por My father has this morning call'd togeTo this poor hall his little Roman senate, [ther The leavings of Pharsalia, to consult If yet he can oppose the mighty torrent That bears down Rome and all her gods before it, Or must at length give up the world to Cæsar. Sem. Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome Can raise her senate more than Cato's presence. His virtues render our assembly awful, They strike with something like religious fear, And make e'en Cæsar tremble at the head Ofarmies flush'd with conquest. O my Portius, Could I but call that wondrous nan my father, Would but thy sister Marcia be propitious To thy friend's vows, I might be blest indeed! Por. Alas, Sempronius! wouldst thou talk of love To Marcia, whilst her father's life's in danger? Thou mightst as well court the pale trembling vestal, When she beholds the holy flame expiring. The world has all its eyes on Cato's son ; On this important hour-I'll straight away; Ambitiously sententious!-But I wonder raise me * Sy. Alas, he's lost! He's lost, Sempronius! all his thoughts are full Sem. Be sure to press upon him ev'ry motive nate Iscall'd together? Gods! thou must be cautious; Sem. Let me alone, good Syphax; I'll conceal My thoughts in passion ('tis the surest way); I'll bellow out for Rome and for my country, And mouth at Cæsar, till I shake the senate. Your cold hypocrisy's a stale device, A worn-out trick: wouldst thou be thought in earnest, Clothe thy feign'd zeal in rage, in fire, and fury! Sy. In troth, thou'rt able to instruct gray heirs, And teach the wily African deceit. Sem. Once more be sure to try thy skill on Juba: Meanwhile I'll hasten to my Roman soldiers, Inflame the mutiny, and underhand Blow up their discontents, till they break out Unlook'd for, and discharge themselves on Cato. Remember, Syphax, we must work in haste : O think what anxious moments pass between The birth of plots and their last fatal periods : O, 'tis a dreadful interval of time, Fill'd up with horror all, and big with death! Destruction hangs on ev'ry word we speak, On ev'ry thought; till the concluding stroke Determines all, and closes our design. [Exit. Amidst our barren rocks, and burning sands, Above her own Numidia's tawny sons? The fiery steed, and trains him to his hand? In which your Zama does not stoop to Rome. What are these wondrous civilizing arts, There mayst thou see to what a godlike height And when his fortune sets before him all Sy. Believe me, prince, there's not an Afri can That traverses our vast Numidian deserts Jub. Thy prejudices, Syphax, won't discern Where shall we find the man that bears affliction, Great and majestic in his griefs, like Cato? Heavens with what strength, what steadiness of mind, He triumphs in the midst of all his suff'rings! How does he rise against a load of woes, And thank the gods that throw the weight upon him! [soul; Sy. 'Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of I think the Romans call it Stoicism. Had not your royal father thought so highly Of Roman virtue and of Cato's cause, He had not fall'n by a slave's hand inglorious; Nor would his slaughter'd army now have lain On Afric's sands, disfigur'd with their wounds, To gorge the wolves and vultures of Numidia. Jub. Why dost thou call my sorrows up a fresh? My father's name brings tears into my eyes. Sy. O that you'd profit by your father's ills! Jub. What wouldst thou have me do? Sy. Abandon Cato. Jub. Syphax, I should be more than twice an orphan By such a loss. Sy. Ay, there's the tie that binds you! You long to call him father. Marcia's charms Work in your heart unseen, and plead for Cato. No wonder you are deaf to all I say. Jub. Syphax, your zeal becomes importunate; I've hitherto permitted it to rave, And talk at large; but learn to keep it in, Lest it should take more freedom than I'll give it. Sy. Sir, your great father never us'd me thus. Alas, he's dead! but can you e'er forget The tender sorrows, and the pangs of nature, The fond embraces, and repeated blessings, Which you drew from him in your last farewell? Still inust I cherish the dear sad remembrance, At once to torture and to please my soul. The good old king at parting wrung my hand (His eyes brimful of tears); then sighing, cried, Pr'ythee be careful of my son !-His grief Swell'd up so high, he could not utter more. Jub. Alas, thy story melts away my soul! That best of fathers! how shall I discharge The gratitude and duty which I owe him? Sy. By laying up his counsels in your heart.Jul. His counsels bade me yield to thy di rections: Sy. Believe me, prince, tho' hard to conquer love, "Tis easier to divert and break its force. Absence might cure it, or a second mistress Light up another flame, and put out this. The glowing dames of Zama's royal court Have faces Aush'd with more exalted charms : The sun, that rolls his chariot o'er their heads, Works up more fire and color in their cheeks: Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon forget The pale, unripen'd beauties of the North. Jub. 'Tis not a set of features or complexion, The tincture of a skin that I admire: Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex : True, she is fair-O how divinely fair! But still the lovely maid improves her charms With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom, And sanctity of manners; Cato's soul Shines out in every thing she acts or speaks, While winning mildness and attractive smiles Dwell in her looks, and with becoming grace Soften the rigor of her father's virtue. Sy. How does your tongue grow wanton in her praise! But on my knees I beg you would considerJub. Hah! Syphax, is 't not she?-She moves this way: And with her Lucia, Lucius's fair daughter My heart beats thick-I pr'ythee, Syphax, leave me. Sy. Ten thousand curses fasten on 'em both! Now will this woman, with a single glance, Undo what I've been lab'ring all this while. [Exit Syphax. Enter Marcia and Lucia. Jub. Hail, charming maid! how does thy beauty smooth The face of war, and make even horror smile! At sight of thee my heart shakes off its sorrows; 1 feel a dawn of joy break in upon me, And for a while forget the approach of Cæsar. Mar. I should be griev'd, young prince, to think my presence [arms, Unbent your thoughts, and slacken'd 'em to While, warm with slaughter, our victorious foe Threatens aloud, and calls you to the field. Jub. O Marcia, let me hope thy kind concern And gentle wishes follow me to battle! The thought will give new vigor to my arm, Add strength and weight to my descending sword, And drive it in a tempest on the foe. Mar. My prayers and wishes always shall attend [virtue, The friends of Rome, the glorious cause of The men approv'd of by the gods and Cato. Jub. That Juba may deserve thy pious cares, I'll gaze for ever on thy godlike father, Transplanting, one by one, into my life His bright perfections, till Is ine like him. Mar. My father never at a time like this Would lay out his great soul in words, and waste Such precious moments. sink away In pleasing dreams, and lose myself in love, Luc. Why have not I this constancy of mind, Who have so many griefs to try its force? Sure, nature form'd me of her softest mould, Enfeebled all my soul with tender passions, And sunk me even below my own weak sex: Pity and love, by turns, oppress my heart. Mar. Lucia, disburthen all thy cares on me, And let me share thy most retir'd distress. Tell me who raises up this conflict in thee. Luc. I need not blush to name them, when I tell thee They're Marcia's brothers, and the sons of Cato. Mar. They both behold thee with their sister's eyes, And often have reveal'd their passion to me. Luc. Which is it Marcia wishes for? And yet for both-The youths have equal share In Marcia's wishes, and divide their sister: But tell me which of them is Lucia's choice? Luc. Marcia, they both are high in my esteem: But in my love-why wilt thou make me name him? Thou know'st it is a blind and foolish passion, O Portius! thou hast stol'n away my soul! And breathes the softest, the sincerest vows! Marcus is over warm: his fond complaints Lucia, thou know'st not half the love he bears Whene'er he speaks of thee, his heart's in flames, And thinks, and talks, and looks like one trans- Unhappy youth! How will thy coldness raise Luc. You seem to plead Had Portius been the unsuccessful lover, Mar. He knows too well how easily he's fir'd, ments. Luc. Alas! too late I find myself involv'd rows, But to the gods submit the event of things. So the pure limpid stream, when foul with stains ACT II. [Exeunt. Enter Cato. Cato. Fathers, we once again are met in Cæsar's approach has summon'd us together, What course to take. Our foe advances on us, To hold it out, and fight it to the last? Sem. My voice is still for war. Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest, Rise, fathers, rise! 'tis Rome demands your And Scipio's ghost walks unreveng'd amongst us. Cato. Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of reaTrue fortitude is seen in great exploits [son: That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides; All else is tow'ring phrensy and distraction. Are not the lives of those who draw the sword In Rome's defence intrusted to our care? Should we thus lead them to a field of slaughter, Might not th' impartial world with reason say, Welavish'd at our deaths the blood of thousands, To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious? SCENE, the Senate. Lucius, Sempronius, and Lucius we next would know what's your opi[on peace. Luc. My thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd Already have our quarrels fill'd the world Withwidowsandwith orphans: Scythia mourns Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome: 'Tis time to sheathe the sword and spare manIt is not Cæsar, but the gods, my fathers, [kind. The gods declare against us, and repel Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle Senators. Sem. ROME still survives in this assembled senate ! Let us remember we are Cato's friends, nion. |