Kindle again his torch, and hold it high,

To light us to new joys. Nor let a thought
Of discord, or disquiet past, molest thee;
But to a long oblivion give thy cares,

And let us melt the present hour in bliss.

Cal. Seek not to sooth me with thy false endear-
ments,

To charm me with thy softness: 'tis in vain :
Thou can'st no more betray, nor I be ruin'd.
The hours of folly, and of fond delight,
Are wasted all, and fled; those that remain
Are doom'd to weeping, anguish, and repentance.
I come to charge thee with a long account,
Of all the sorrows I have known already,

40

And all I have to come; thou hast undone me. Loth. Unjust Calista! dost thou call it ruin, To love as we have done; to melt, to languish, To wish for somewhat exquisitely happy, And then be blest ev'n to that wish's height? To die with joy, and straight to live again; Speechless to gaze, and with tumultuous transport— Cal. Oh, let me hear no more; I cannot bear it; 'Tis deadly to remembrance. Let that night, That guilty night, be blotted from the year; "Let not the voice of mirth or music know it; "Let it be dark and desolate; no stars "To glitter o'er it; let it wish for light,

"Yet want it still, and vainly wait the dawn;" For 'twas the night that gave me up to shame, To sorrow, to the false Lothario.

Loth. Hear this, ye pow'rs! mark, how the fair de

ceiver

Sadly complains of violated truth;

She calls me false, ev'n she, the faithless she,

Whom day and night, whom heav'n and earth have heard

Sighing to vow, and tenderly protest,

Ten thousand times, she would be only mine;
And yet, behold, she has given herself away,
Fled from my arms, and wedded to another,
Ev'n to the man whom most I hate on earth.-
Cal. Art thou so base to upbraid me with a crime,
Which nothing but thy cruelty could cause?

If indignation raging in my soul,

For thy unmanly insolence and scorn,
Urg'd me to a deed of desperation,

And wound myself to be reveng'd on thee,
Think whom I should devote to death and hell,
Whom curse as my undoer, but Lothario;
Hadst thou been just, not all Sciolto's pow'r,
Not all the vows and pray'rs of sighing Altamont,
Could have prevail'd, or won me to forsake thee.
Loth. How have I fail'd in justice, or in love?
Burns not my flame as brightly as at first?
Ev'n now my heart beats high, I languish for thee,
My transports are as fierce, as strong my wishes,
As if thou ne'er hadst blest me with thy beauty.

61

Cal. How didst thou dare to think that I would live A slave to base desires, and brutal pleasures, To be a wretched wanton for thy leisure,

To toy, and waste an hour of idle time with?
My soul disdains thee for so mean a thought.

80

Loth. The driving storm of passion will have way, And I must yield before it. Wert thou calm, Love, the poor criminal, whom thou hast doom'd, Has yet a thousand tender things to plead, To charm thy rage, and mitigate his fate.

Enter behind them ALTAMONT.

Alt. “I have lost my peace”—Ha! do I live and wake?

Cal. Hadst thou been true, how happy had I been! Not Altamont, but thou, hadst been my lord. But wherefore nam'd I happiness with thee? It is for thee, for thee, that I am curst; For thee my secret soul each hour arraigns me, Calls me to answer for my virtue stain'd, My honour lost to thee: for thee it haunts me; With stern Sciolto vowing vengeance on me : With Altamont complaining for his wrongsAlt. Behold him hereCal. Ah!

[Coming forward. [Starting.

99

Alt. The wretch! whom thou hast made. Curses and sorrows hast thou heap'd upon him, And vengeance is the only good that's left. [Drawing. Loth. Thou hast ta'en me somewhat unawares,

true:

But love and war take turns, like day and night,
And little preparation serves my turn,

Equal to both, and arm'd for either field.

'tis

We've long been foes, this moment ends our quarrel;
Earth, Heav'n, and fair Calista judge the combat!
Cal. Distraction! Fury! Sorrow! Shame! and
death!

"Alt. Thou hast talk'd too much, thy breath is poison to me;

"It taints the ambient air; this for my father, "This for Sciolto, and this last for Altamont."

[They fight; Lothario is wounded once or twice, and then falls.

Loth. Oh, Altamont! thy genius is the stronger! Thou hast prevail'd!-My fierce ambitious soul Declining droops, and all her fires grow pale; Yet let not this advantage swell thy pride, I conquer'd in my turn, in love I triumph'd. Those joys are lodg'd beyond the reach of fate; That sweet revenge comes smiling to my thoughts, Adorns my fall, and cheers my heart in dying. [Dies.

Cal. And what remains for me, beset with shame, Encompass'd round with wretchedness? There is 120 But this one way to break the toil, and 'scape.

[She catches up Lothario's sword, and offers to kill herself; Altamont runs to her, and wrests it from her.

Alt. What means thy frantic rage!

Cal. Off! let me go.

Alt. Oh! thou hast more than murder'd me; yet

still,

Still art thou here! and my soul starts with horror,

At thought of any danger that may reach thee.

Cal. Think'st thou I mean to live? to be forgiv'n? Oh, thou hast known but little of Calista!

If thou had'st never heard my shame, if only
The midnight moon and silent stars had seen it,
I would not bear to be reproach'd by them,
But dig down deep to find a grave beneath,
And hide me from their beams.

Sciolto within.] What, ho! my son!

"Alt. It is Sciolto calls; come near and find me; "The wretched'st thing of all my kind on earth.” Cal. Is it the voice of thunder, or my father? Madness! Confusion! let the storm come on, Let the tumultuous roar drive all upon me; Dash my devoted bark, ye surges, break it! 'Tis for my ruin that the tempest rises, When I am lost, sunk to the bottom low, Peace shall return, and all be calm again.

Enter SCIOLTO.

240

Sci. Ev'n now Rossano leap'd the garden wallHa! Death has been among you—Oh, my fears! Last night thou had'st a diff'rence with thy friend, The cause thou gav'st me was a damn'd one. Did'st thou not wrong the man who told thee truth? Answer me quick

Alt. Oh! press me not to speak;

Ev'n now my heart is breaking, and the mention

Will lay me dead before you.

See that body,

And guess my shame: my ruin! Oh, Calista!

Sci. It is enough! but I am slow to execute,