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 Than his lov'd parents—than his children more— More than himself!—Oh! no, it shall not be! Thou perish, O Alcestis! in the flower Of thy young beauty!—perish, and destroy Not him, not him alone, but us, but all, Who as a child adore thee! Desolate Would be the throne, the kingdom, reft of thee. And think'st thou not of those, whose tender years Demand thy care?—thy children! think of them! O thou, the source of each domestic joy, Thou, in whose life alone Admetus lives, His glory, his delight, thou shalt not die, While I can die for thee!—Me, me alone, The oracle demands—a wither'd stem, Whose task, whose duty, is, for him to die. My race is run—the fulness of my years, The faded hopes of age, and all the love Which hath its dwelling in a father's heart. And the fond pity, half with wonder blent, Inspired by thee, whose youth with heavenly gifts So richly is endowed; all, all unite To grave in adamant the just decree. That I must die. But thou, I bid thee live! Pheres commands thee, O Alcestis! live! Ne'er, ne'er shall woman's youthful love surpass An aged sire's devotedness.

Alc. I know Thy lofty soul, thy fond paternal love; Pheres, I know them well, and not in vain Strove to anticipate their high resolves. But if in silence I have heard thy words, Now calmly list to mine, and thou shalt own They may not be withstood.

Phe. What can'st thou say Which I should hear? I go, resolved to save Him who with thee would perish;—to the shrine E'en now I fly.

Alc. Stay, stay thee! 'tis too late. Already hath consenting Proserpine, From the remote abysses of her realms, Heard and accepted the terrific vow Which binds me, with indissoluble ties, To death. And I am firm, and well I know None can deprive me of the awful right That vow hath won. Alc. Yes! thou may'st weep my fate, Mourn for me, father! but thou can'st not blame My lofty purpose. Oh! the more endear'd My life by every tie, the more I feel Death's bitterness, the more my sacrifice