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Have triumph'd o'er me.
Take him, take your father;
Convey him hence; I do release him to you.

Eva. What said Philotas ! Do I fondly dream?
Indeed my senses are imperfect; yet
Methought I heard him! Did he say release me?
Phil. Thou art my king, and now no more my

Go with your daughter, with that wond'rous pattern
Of filial piety to after times.
Yes, princess, lead him forth ; I'll point the path,
Whose soft declivity will guide your steps
To the deep vale, which these o'erhanging rocks
Encompass round. You may convey him thence
To some safe shelter. Yet a moment's pause;
I must conceal your flight from ev'ry eye.
Yes, I will save 'ern, or perish in their cause.

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Eva. Whither, oh! whither shall Evander go?
I'm at the goal of life; if in the race
Honour has follow'd with no ling'ring step,
But there sits smiling with her laure'ld wreath,
To crown my brow, there would I fain make halt,
And not inglorious lay me down to rest.

Eup. And will you then refuse, when thus the gods
Afford a refuge to thee?

Eva. Oh! my child,
There is no refuge for me.

Eup. Pardon, sir :
Euphrasia's care has formed a safe retreat;
There may'st thou dwell; it will not long be wanted,
Soon shall Timoleon, with resistless force,
Burst yon devoted walls.

Era. Timoleon!

Eup. Yes,
The brave Timoleon with the pow'r of Greece;
Another day shall make the city his.

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Eva. Timoleon come to vindicate my rights !
Oh! thou shalt reign in Sicily! my child
Shall grace her father's throne. Indulgent Heav'n!
Pour down your blessings on this best of daughters;
To her and Phocion give Evander's crown;
Let them, oh ! let them both in virtue wear it,
And in due time transmit it to their boy!

Phil. All things are apt; the drowsy sentinel
Lies hush'd in sleep; I'll marshal thee the way
Down the steep rock.

Eup. Oh! let us quickly hence.

Eva. The blood but loiters in these frozen veins, Do you, whose youthful spirit glows with life, Do you go forth, and leave this mouldering corpse. To me had Heav'n decreed a longer date, It ne'er had suffer'd a fell monster's reign, Nor let me see the


my people. Farewell, Euphrasia; in one lov'd embrace To these remains pay the last obsequies, And leave me here to sink to silent dust.


Eup. And will you, then, on self-destruction bent,
Reject my pray'r, nor trust your fate with me?
Eva. Trust thee, Euphrasia ? Trust in thee, my

Though life's a burden I could well lay down,
Yet I will prize it, since bestow'd by thee.
Oh! thou art good; thy virtue soars a flight
For the wide world to wonder at; in thee,
Hear it all nature, future ages hear it,
The father finds a parent in his child!



A Rampart near the Harbour.

Enter Dionysius, &c.

Dio. Base deserters' Eurse on their Punic faith ! Did they once dare To grapple with the Greek? Ere yet the main Wasting'd with blood, they turned their ships averse. May storms and tempests follow in their rear, And dash their fleet upon the Lybian shore


Cal. Myliege, Timoleon, where the harbour opens, Has storm'd the forts, and even now his fleet Pursues its course, and steers athwart the bay.

Dio. Ruin impends; and yet, if fall it must, I bear a mind to meet it undismay’d, Unconquer'd ev'n by Fate.

Cal. Through ev'ry street Despair and terror fly. A panic spreads From man to man, and superstition sees Jove arm'd with thunder, and the gods against us.

Dio. With sacred rites their wrath must be ap

Let instant victims at the altar bleed;
Let incense roll its fragrant clouds to Heav'n,
And pious matrons, and the virgin train,
In slow procession to the temple bear
The image of their gods.
The solemn sacrifice, the virgin throng,
Will gain the popular belief, and kindle
In the fierce soldicry religious rage,

Away, my friends, prepare the sacred rites.

[Exeunt CALIPPUS, fc. Philotas, thou draw near: how fares your prisoner? Has he yet breath'd his last?

Phil. Life ebbs apace;
To-morrow's sun sees him a breathless corse.

Dio. Curse on his ling’ring pangs! Sicilia's crown
No more shall deck his brow; and if the sand
Still loiter in the glass, thy hand, my friend,
May shake it thence.

Phil. It shall, dread sir ; that task Leave to thy faithful servant.

Dio. Oh! Philotas, Thou little know'st the cares, the pangs of empire. The ermin'd pride, the purple that adorns A conqueror's breast, but serves, my friend, to hide A heart that's torn, that's mangled with remorse. Each object round me wakens horrid doubts ; The flatt'ring train, the sentinel that guards me, The slave that waits, all give some new alarm, And from the means of safety dangers rise. Ev'n victory itself plants anguish here, And round my laurels the fell serpent twines.

Phil. Would Dionysius abdicate his crown, And sue for terms of peace ?

Dio. Detested thought ! No, though ambition teem with countless ills, It still has charms of pow'r to fire the soul. Though horrors multiply around my head, I will oppose them all. The pomp of sacrifice But now ordain'd, is mockery to Heav'n. 'Tis vain, 'tis fruitless ; then let daring guilt Be my inspirer, and consummate all. Where are those Greeks, the captives of my sword, Whose desp’rate valour rush'd within our walls, Fought near our person, and the pointed lance Aim'd at


Phil. In chains they wait their doom.

Dio. Give me to see 'em ; bring the slaves before


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Phil. What, ho! Melanthon, this

way lead your

Dio. Assassins, and not warriors ! do ye come,
When the wide range of battle claims your sword,
Thus do you come against a single life
To wage the war? Did not our buckler ring
With all your darts, in one collected volley,
Shower'd on my head ? Did not your swords at once
Point at my breast, and thirst for regal blood ?
G. Off. We sought thy life. I am by birth a

An open foe in arms, I meant to slay
The foe of human kind. With rival ardour
We took the field; one voice, one mind, one heart;
All leagu'd, all covenanted : in yon camp
Spirits there are who aim, like us, at glory.
Whene'er you sally forth, whene'er the Greeks
Shall scale your walls, prepare thee to encounter
A like assault. By me the youth of Greece
Thus notify the war they mean to wage.

Dio. Thus, then, I warn them of my great revenge.
Whoe'er in battle shall become our pris'ner,
In torment meets his doom.

G. Off. Then wilt thou see
How vile the body to a mind that pants
For genuine glory. Twice three hundred Greeks
Have sworn, like us, to hunt thee through the ranks ;
Ours the first lot; we've fail'd; on yonder plain
Appear in arms, the faithful band will meet thee.
Dio. Vile slave, no more. Melanthon, drag 'em

To die in misery. Impal'd alive,
The winds shall parch them on the craggy cliff.

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