Page:Representative American plays.pdf/53

36

. 'T was not Vardanes struck the fatal blow,

Though, great in pow'r usurp'd, he dares support

The actor, vengeful Lysias; to his breast

He clasps, with grateful joy, the bloody villain;

Who soon meant, with ruffian wiles, to cut

You from the earth, and also me.

. Just heav'ns!—

But, gentle Brother, how didst thou elude

The vigilant, suspicious, tyrant's craft[?]

. Phraates, by an accident, obtain'd

The knowledge of the deed, and warn'd by him

I bent my flight toward the camp, to seek

Protection and revenge; but scarce I' d left

The city when I o'ertook the Gen'ral.

. Ere the sun 'rose I gain'd th' intelligence:

The soldiers when they heard the dreadful tale,

First stood aghast, and motionless with horror.

Then suddenly, inspir'd with noble rage,

Tore up their ensigns, calling on their leaders

To march them to the city instantly.

I, with some trusty few, with speed came forward,

To raise our friends within, and gain your freedom.

Nor hazard longer, by delays, your safety.

Already faithful Phraates has gain'd

A num'rous party of the citizens;

With these we mean t' attack the Royal Palace,

Crush the bold tyrant with surprise, while sunk

In false security; and vengeance wreck,

'Ere that he thinks the impious crime be known.

. O! parent being, Ruler of yon heav'n!

Who bade creation spring to order, hear me.

What ever sins are laid upon my soul,

Now let them not prove heavy on this day,

To sink my arm, or violate my cause.

The sacred rights of Kings, my Country's wrongs,

The punishment of fierce impiety,

And a lov'd Father's death, call forth my sword.—

Now on; I feel all calm within my breast,

And ev'ry busy doubt is hush'd to rest;

Smile heav'n propitious on my virtuous cause,

Nor aid the wretch who dares disdain your laws.

. Now shining Empire standing at the goal,

Beck'ns me forward to increase my speed;

But, yet, Arsaces lives, bane to my hopes,

Lysias I 'll urge to ease me of his life,

Then give the villain up to punishment.

The shew of justice gains the changeling croud,

Besides, I ne'er will harbour in my bosom

Such serpents, ever ready with their stings—

But now one hour for love and fair Evanthe—

Hence with ambition's cares—see, where reclin'd,

In slumbers all her sorrows are dismiss'd,

Sleep seems to heighten ev'ry beauteous feature,

And adds peculiar softness to each grace.

She weeps—in dreams some lively sorrow pains her—

I 'll take one kiss—oh! what a balmy sweetness!

Give me another—and another still—

For ever thus I 'd dwell upon her lips.

Be still my heart, and calm unruly transports.—

Wake her, with music, from this mimic death. (Music sounds.)