Enter EVANDER and Melanthon. Eva. Lead me, Melanthon; guide my aged steps; Where is he? let me see him. Phoc. My Euphrasia; Thy father lives; thou venerable man! Eup. These agonies must end me-ah, my father! Again I have him, gracious pow'rs! again I clasp his hand, and bathe it with my tears. Eva. Euphrasia!-Phocion, too!-Yes, both are here! Oh, let me thus, thus strain you to my heart. Eup. Why, my father, Why thus adventure forth? The strong alarm Eva. I went forth, my child, When all was dark, and awful silence round, And crave the care of Heav'n for thee and thine. Enter PHILOTAS. Phil. Inevitable ruin hovers o'er you: For thee, Evander! thee his rage hath order'd Eva. Lead me to him: His presence hath no terror for Evander. Phil. No, never, never: I'll perish rather! But the time demands Our utmost vigour. His policy has granted A day's suspense from arms; yet even now Eva. And doth he grant a false insidious truce, Becalms his looks, the rankling heart within Mel. Now, Phocion, now, on thee our hope depends. Fly to Timoleon; I can grant a passport: Rouse him to vengeance; on the tyrant turn Phoc. Evander thou, and thou, my best Euphrasia, Both shall attend my flight. Mel. It were in vain; Th' attempt would hazard all. Eup. Together here We will remain, safe in the cave of death; And wait our freedom from thy conqu❜ring arm. Eva. Oh, would the gods roll back the stream of time, And give this arm the sinew that it boasted At Tauromenium, when its force resistless Mow'd down the ranks of war! I then might guide The battle's rage, and, ere Evander die, Add still another laurel to my brow. Eup. Enough of laurell'd victory your sword Hath reap'd in earlier days. Eva. And shall my sword, When the great cause of liberty invites, Youth, second youth, rekindles in my veins : Acquaintance with his hand.—And yet-O shame! It will not be the momentary blaze Eup. Fly, Phocion, fly; Melanthon will conduct thee. Mel. And when th' assault begins, my faithful cohorts Shall form their ranks around this sacred dome. Phoc. And my poor captive friends, my brave companions Taken in battle, wilt thou guard their lives? Mel. Trust to my care: no danger shall assail them. Pho. By Heav'n, the glorious expectation swells Eva. Yet, ere thou go'st, young man, So thinks Evander, and so tell Timoleon. Phoc. Farewell;-the midnight hour shall give you freedom. [Exit, with MELANTION and PHILOTAS. Eup. Ye guardian deities, watch all his ways. Eva. Come, my Euphrasia, in this interval Together we will seek the sacred altar, And thank the God, whose presence fills the doom, For all the wond'rous goodness lavish'd on us. [Exeunt. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. Enter DIONYSIUS and CALIPPUS. Dio. Ere the day clos'd, while yet the busy eye Might view their camp, their stations, and their guards, Their preparations for approaching night; Didst thou then mark the motions of the Greeks? Cal. From the watch-tower I saw them : all things spoke A foe secure, and discipline relax'd. Dio. Their folly gives them to my sword. Are all My orders issued? Cal. All. Dio. The troops retir'd To gain recruited vigour from repose? Cal. The city round lies hush'd in sleep. Let each brave officer, of chosen valour, Fly to thy post, and bid Euphrasia enter. [Exit CALIPPUs. Evander dies this night :-Euphrasia too Shall be dispos'd of. Curse on Phocion's fraud, That from my power withdrew their infant boy. In him the seed of future kings were crush'd, And the whole hated line at once extinguish'd. Enter EUPHRASIA. Once more approach and hear me; 'tis not now I meant to spare the stream of blood, that soon Eup. If yet there's wanting A crime to fill the measure of thy guilt, All Thy dark complottings, and thy treach'rous arts,' Have proved abortive. Eup. Ha!-What new event? And is Philotas false?-Has he betray'd him? Dio. What, ho! Philotas! Enter PHILOtas. Eup. How my heart sinks within me! Dio. Where's your pris'ner? Phil. Evander is no more. Dio. Ha!-Death has robb'd me Of half my great revenge. Phil. Worn out with anguish, I saw life ebb apace. With studied art We gave each cordial drop, alas, in vain; [Aside. He heav'd a sigh, invok'd his daughter's name, Dio. Bring me his hoary head! Phil. You'll pardon, sir, my over-hasty zeal. |