[]
CYRUS: A TRAGEDY.
[Price One Shilling and Sixpence.]
[]
CYRUS: A TRAGEDY. As it is performed at the THEATRE ROYAL IN COVENT-GARDEN. BY JOHN HOOLE.
LONDON: Printed for T. DAVIES, in Ruſſel-Street, Covent-Garden.
M. DCC. LXVIII.
TO THE DUCHESS OF NORTHUMBERLAND, &c.
[]MADAM,
PERMIT me to aſſure YOUR GRACE of the deep ſenſe I retain of Your great Goodneſs and Condeſcenſion in the Protection which You have been pleaſed to extend to my firſt Effort in the Drama.
Were I to liſten to thoſe ſuggeſtions that natu⯑rally ariſe in the mind of a Writer, on the firſt dawnings of ſucceſs, the favourable reception which this Tragedy has met with from the Public would lead me to hope that it might not be found wholly unworthy of YOUR GRACE'S Patronage: but when I reflect how many circumſtances con⯑tribute to pleaſe on the Stage, where every Thought []or Expreſſion is enforced with the graces of action and utterance, I cannot but be anxious leſt the Reader ſhould withhold that approbation in the cloſet which the Spectator teſtified in the repreſentation.
It is with the utmoſt Deference I ſubmit the following Scenes to YOUR GRACE'S Peruſal; and am,
MADAM,
with the greateſt reſpect, YOUR GRACE'S moſt obliged moſt obedient and moſt devoted ſervant, JOHN HOOLE.
Clement's Inn, 14 Dec. 1768.
PROLOGUE.
[]NEW to the ſtage, before this dread array,
Prepar'd to offer here his virgin play,
Our tim'rous Author, diffident of praiſe,
Grafts his firſt laurels on another's bays;
Takes from another's breaſt the gen'rous fire,
And fits to Engliſh ſtrains a foreign lyre:
Aſpires to pleaſe by unſuſpected means,
Importing paſſion from Italian ſcenes;
Where heroes combate to ſoft muſic's note;
And tyrants warble thro' an eunuch's throat:
To ſymphony deſpairing lovers ſigh;
And ſtruggling traitors by the gamut die!
Yet here a living bard, whoſe fame out-runs
The foremoſt of the tuneſul Drama's ſons,
Can ev'n in ſong his magic pow'r diſpenſe,
At once uniting harmony and ſenſe.
From him our poet now eſſays to write,
And plans from him the ſtory of to-night;
A well-known tale—who has not heard the name:
Of CYRUS, and the riſing Median fame?
Each puling ſchool-boy can diſcuſs the theme;
The ſuff'ring grandſon, and the monarch's dream.
O! ſhould his genius catch th' inſpiring thought,
And nobly copy what was nobly wrought;
Or where the maſter's hand but sketch'd the line,
With happy warmth fill up the bold deſign;
Then ev'ry figure, with full force impreſt,
May wake the feelings of th' impaſſion'd breaſt;
While each bright eye, amidſt this circle, pays
The tribute of involuntary praiſe.
Dramatis Perſonae.
[]- ASTYAGES, Mr. CLARKE.
- CAMBYSES, Mr. SMITH.
- CYRUS, Mr. POWELL.
- HARPAGUS, Mr. HULL.
- MITHRANES, Mr. BENSLEY.
- MIRZA, Mr. DAVIS.
- MANDANE, Mrs. YATES.
- ASPASIA, Mrs. MATTOCKS.
- Officer, Guards, Meſſenger, &c.
SCENE on the Borders of Media.
CYRUS: A TRAGEDY.
[]ACT I.
SCENE, A wood, a ſtately pavilion erected for ASTYAGES; view of a temple at a diſtance.
MANDANE, ASPASIA.
MANDANE.
BEHOLD the limits of the Median land,
And ſee the temple where Aſtyages
Returns each year to ſhed the victim's blood,
On great Aſtarte's altar—O! Aſpaſia!
This is the place, the day, nam'd by my father,
To bleſs me with the tendereſt interview;
Here ſhall I meet again my long loſt Cyrus:
Is he not found, was he not ſnatch'd from death,
Sav'd by ſome God to fill theſe eager arms!
And is not this the happy deſtin'd grove,
Where once again I ſhall embrace my child?
ASPASIA.
[2]'Tis true—but what can all this paſſion mean?
MANDANE.
What can it mean!—where is my Cyrus hid?
What does he?—wherefore comes he not?
ASPASIA.
Alas!
Time, wing'd with ſwifteſt pinions, lags behind
The ardent wiſhes of a mother's love.
Thou know'ſt the hour of ſacrifice is fix'd
For his reception; that we muſt not pay
Our vows to night's pale queen, till yonder ſun
Declines to ev'ning ſkies, and now his beams
But juſt begin to dawn o'er eaſtern hills.
MANDANE.
Alas! Aſpaſia,—ſtill I fear—
ASPASIA.
And wherefore?
When now Aſtyages no longer ſeeks
His death, but wiſhes to behold his Cyrus,
To give him back a parent's kind protection,
And ſhew, in him, our Media's future king?
MANDANE.
Yet if the viſions of the night may claim.
Belief—a dreadful dream—
ASPASIA.
And ſhall Mandane
Be mov'd with ſhadows! ſure you ſhould deteſt
Such viſionary fears; from theſe you firſt
[3]May date your ſorrows: well you know, your father,
On the vain credit of a dream, condemn'd
Your Cyrus to be ſlain; nor this ſuffic'd;
But that the nuptial bed no more might prove
Fruitful to thee in children, and to him
Give endleſs cauſe of terror, far from hence
To baniſhment he ſent your lord, your huſband,
Your dear Cambyſes, where, in Perſia's realm
He lives, an alien to his conſort's arms.
MANDANE.
And yet 'tis not a dream that twice ten years
Have ſeen the chearful harveſt crown our fields,
Since at his birth my child was raviſh'd from me.
On this bleſt day I hope once more to ſee him,
And thinks Aſpaſia now to find me calm?
ASPASIA.
You loſt your Cyrus when your age had ſcarce
Beheld the round of thirteen annual ſuns;
And can you ſtill ſo deeply feel the grief
Impreſt in life's firſt bloom?
MANDANE.
Alas! Aſpaſia,
Thou know'ſt not what it is to be a mother.
ASPASIA.
Yet your Aſpaſia too has known her ſorrows;
If you lament a huſband and a ſon,
I mourn a brother's loſs, who fell beneath
The vengeful anger of Aſtyages.
MANDANE.
[4]There, there, my boſom ſhar'd thy father's ſufferings,
And oft I've wept in ſecret his misfortunes.
Unhappy man! a fatal recompenſe
My father gave?thee for his grandſon ſav'd!
What haſt thou ſuffer'd for thy love to Cyrus,
Thy loyal truth!—but ſee, the good man comes,
He comes, perchance, with tidings of my ſon—
O haſte, my Harpagus, where is he?
Enter HARPAGUS.
HARPAGUS.
Princeſs,
Your ſon is now arriv'd.
MANDANE.
Arriv'd!—ah!—where?
HARPAGUS.
He muſt not, till Aſtyages appears,
Preſume to paſs the borders of the kingdom:
'Tis ſo decreed.
MANDANE.
Then let us ſeek him out
Where now impatient, with long exil'd feet,
He comes to tread his native wiſh'd-for ſoil,
And eaſe a mother's pains.
[Going.
HARPAGUS.
It muſt not be.
Mandane, ſtay—your father will be preſent,
A witneſs to your meeting.
MANDANE.
[5]Wherefore then
This long delay?—O did Aſtyages
Feel half Mandane feels, theſe arms had now
Embrac'd my deareſt Cyrus! what detains
My father thus?
HARPAGUS.
'Ere now he's on his way;
But the long pomp that waits on Media's kings,
Forbids his ſwift approach.
MANDANE.
And muſt Mandane
Attend the dull and tedious forms of ſtate?
Aſpaſia, if thou lov'ſt me, inſtant go,
And ſeek the blooming youth—Yet ſtay, and hear me—
Obſerve his air, his voice, his ev'ry look;
Mark if his features bear his mother's likeneſs,
Or his lov'd father's—But, als! I rave;
Thou never knew'ſt his hapleſs baniſh'd father!
Relate my ſufferings, and enquire of his:
Aſk what kind hand ſupply'd a mother's care;
How when, Mandane, torn with heart-felt anguiſh,
Deem'd him a prey to ſavage rage, the woods
Preſerv'd him in their hoſpitable ſhades.
Tell him—O heaven! I know not what—but tell him
More than a mother's fondneſs can expreſs,
Not what I ſpeak, but all I wiſh to utter.
O fly! and with the rapid ſpeed of thought,
Return to my impatience.
[Exit ASPASIA.
HARPAGUS.
[6]Should this day,
That gives once more your ſon to your embrace,
Reſtore Cambyſes to you—
MANDANE.
Would to heaven
I might indulge that hope—All gracious powers!
What torture in his exile muſt he feel,
To hear his ſon yet lives; to know this day
Reſtores my Cyrus to his native land;
Yet be deny'd to gaze with tranſport on him,
Or claſp him in a father's ſheltering arms!
HARPAGUS.
Hear, and be ſilent;—happier fortune now
Prepares to crown each wiſh your ſoul can form;
Cambyſes is at hand.
MANDANE.
Cambyſes! where?
O! tell me, Harpagus.
HARPAGUS.
I dare not further
Explain it now—let this ſuffice.
MANDANE.
Alas!
I fear thou doſt deceive me.
HARPAGUS.
No, Mandane,
Truſt to my faith.—This day you ſhall behold him.
MANDANE.
[7]Ye powers! what deluge of unhop'd-for bliſs
Now burſts upon me! O my ſon! my huſband!
Happy Mandane—Harpagus, my friend,
Teach me to bear this wild exceſs of joy.
HARPAGUS.
Be calm, compoſe your looks; let not the king
Perceive this conflict of tumultuous paſſions.
MANDANE.
Yes, I will go, and meet Aſtyages;
Will ſtrive to hide the ſtrugglings of my ſoul,
Check theſe emotions, though my ſwelling boſom
Can ſcarce find room to hold the mighty tranſport;
Tranſport, which only ſuch as I can feel,
And only thoſe, who love like me, conceive.
Exit.
HARPAGUS alone.
Thus far 'tis well.—This day I mean to ſhew
The hidden Cyrus to the expecting world.
The realm is ripe for a revolt; the nobles
Reſolve to inveſt him with the regal ſway—
But my reſentment ſtill demands its victim:
Yes, deareſt ſhade of my lamented ſon,
For ever preſent to thy father's ſight,
Thou yet ſhalt be appeas'd; for this ſo long
I've worn the maſk of loyalty—but now
Vengeance is on the wing ſhe tow'rs aloſt,
And, like an eagle, kens her deſtin'd prey.
Exit.
[8]SCENE changes to a grove; outſide of a ſinall build⯑ing of ſimple architecture, repreſenting the dwelling of MITHRANES.
Enter CYRUS and MITHRANES.
CYRUS.
Can it be poſſible? O ſay, my father,
For ſuch thou ſtill haſt been, am I indeed
The Median Cyrus? Sure I dream! am I
The offspring of Cambyſes and Mandane?
That wretched offspring, whom Aſtyages
Sentenc'd to die, when ſcarce the vital ſpirit
Breath'd from his infant lips.
MITHRANES.
Believe me, prince,
Thou art that offspring.
CYRUS.
Tell me then, Mithranes,
How many bear the name? Thou know'ſt already
One Cyrus, on the borders of the land
Is now arriv'd; and comes not here the king
To welcome his approach?
MITHRANES.
The king's deceiv'd;
That Cyrus is but feign'd—thou art the true.
CYRUS.
Whence is this myſtery?
MITHRANES.
Aſtyages,
When thou wert yet unborn, beheld a viſion
That fill'd his ſoul, with dread.
CYRUS.
[9]Of this, Mithranes,
Thou need'ſt not ſpeak; oft have I heard it told,
How, from his dream, the magic had denounc'd,
That of Mandane ſhould a child be born,
That muſt one day deprive him of his throne;
And well I know at Cyrus' luckleſs birth,
The rigid charge was given to Harpagus,
To end his life, and eaſe a monarch's fears,
MITHRANES.
From thence begins a tale thou ne'er haſt heard:
The cruel ſentence Harpagus receiv'd,
His heart refus'd to obey; to me he brought thee,
Wrapp'd in a regal mantle.
CYRUS.
Then 'twas thou
That in the woods expos'd—
MITHRANES.
Not ſo—be patient—
My conſort then (mark well the providence
That watch'd thy preſervation) had brought forth
A lifeleſs child; thy harmleſs innocence
Excited pity; on thy tender cheek
Stood the big tear, as if thy heart already
Were conſcious of misfortune, while thy hands
Were ſtretch'd, as if to implore protection, from us.
My Barce wept, and with a mother's fondneſs,
Claſp'd in her arms, ſhe ſtrain'd thee to her boſom,
Lull'd thee to reſt, and huſh'd thy little ſorrows.
CRYUS?
Forgive me, ſir, if gratitude awhile
Breaks in upon your tale, and fills my eyes
In dear remembrance of your Barce's virtues;
She whoſe indulgence watch'd my helpleſs years.
MITHRANES.
[10]T [...]ou wert, indeed, the darling of her age.
As my own ſon I bred thee in theſe ſhades,
And call'd thy name Alcaeus; in thy ſtead,
Expoſing in the wood the lifeleſs infant.
CYRUS.
What of Aſtyages?
MITHRANES.
When he believ'd
His dire command compleated, nature's voice
At length awaken'd in his breaſt remorſe.
Full fifteen years did Harpagus remain
Without diſcloſing aught; then ſeem'd the tale
Ripe for diſcovery: yet he firſt would prove
The current's depth before he left the ſhore.
Five years have now elaps'd, ſince thro' the realm
The tidings ſpread, that Cyrus being found
An infant in the foreſt, was preſerv'd
And liv'd among the Scythians: ſuch report
Perhaps the impoſtor rais'd, or from the rumour
Perhaps he ſprung: but be it as it may,
Some bold adventurer, lur'd with hopes of greatneſs,
Uſurps thy name.
CYRUS.
Is this the Cyrus then
Who comes—
MITHRANES.
The ſame—but mark me—Harpagus
Procur'd the fiction credit with the king;
For thus he reaſon'd—ſhould Aſtyages
With joy receive the news, I ſafely may
Reveal the kingdom's heir; or ſhould his fears
Once more return, and prompt ſome new deſign
Againſt the prince, the baffled aim will light
Upon the impoſtor's head.
CYRUS.
[11]But ſince the king
Confeſſes now ſuch tenderneſs for Cyrus;
At length recalls him from a life of exile,
To claſp him to his boſom, wakens all
The ſoft endearments in a mother's ſoul,
And every tender paſſion in a ſon;
Wherefore ſhould unavailing caution ſtill
Withhold the ſecret from him?
MITHRANES.
Harpagus
Relies not firmly on the royal goodneſs:
For when he own'd, that with compaſſion mov'd,
He had not ſlain the infant, but expos'd him
Amidſt the woods, Aſtyages to puniſh
His diſobedience, doom'd to cruel death
His only ſon; and though the king now ſeems
To mourn his grandſon's fate, and wears the ſemblance
Of deep remorſe, yet ſure but ill agrees
Such love for thee, with ſuch reſentment ſhewn
Againſt thy kind preſerver.
CYRUS.
Tell me ther,
Why at this ſolemn pomp of ſacrifice,
Are all our country's nobles here conven'd,
But to receive the lawful ſucceſſor?
And ſhall not Cyrus, conſcious of his birth,
Strip from a bold impoſtor his ſalſe titles,
And ſtand reveal'd to all? Oh! ſir, by you,
Ev'n 'midſt theſe rude uncultivated wilds,
My ſoul has long been train'd to virtuous daring;
And ſhall I now ignobly lurk conceal'd?
What can the ſubject hope from ſuch a prince?
That king will never guard his people's rights,
Who wants the courage to aſſert his own.
MITHRANES.
[12]O greatly urg'd—yet think not, my lov'd prince,
Mithranes leſs regards thy fame, than ſafety.
Suppreſs a few ſhort hours this generous ardour;
Soon as you ſun ſhall reach the weſtern waves,
Thou ſhalt be ſhewn to all; thou ſhalt embrace
Thy parents yet unknown; th' aſſembled nobles
Shall own thy cauſe, and ev'n Aſtyages
Receive in thee the kingdom's better hope.
CYRUS.
What ſay'ſt thou? ſhall I then with filial tranſport
Embrace his honour'd knees, whom fate deny'd
To guard my youth with his paternal care?
Hang on a mother's circling arms, that never
Till this bleſt moment claſp'd a baniſh'd ſon,
And never rear'd his infant years with fondneſs?
MITHRANES.
Thou ſhalt, my prince; Cambyſes will ere long
Arrive; already is Mandane here.
CYRUS.
Mandane!—let me fly to eaſe her breaſt
Of every racking doubt, and dry the tears
Of an afflicted parent.
[Going.
MITHRANES.
Hear me ſtill—
Cambyſes and Mandane both ſuppoſe
The impoſtor is their ſon; and much it now
Imports they ſhould be ſtill deceiv'd, till time
Matures our enterprize; for ſhould Mandane
Learn that in thee he lives—
CYRUS.
Fear not, Mithranes;
This day the mighty ſecret ſhall remain
Lock'd in my breaſt; I never will reveal it
[13]Till thou permit'ſt me—let me but behold her—
Farewell—Doſt thou ſtill doubt my faith—I call
On every God to witneſs to my vows.
[Going.
MITHRANES.
Oh,—no, forbear—when wilt thou learn to curb
Theſe eager ſallies of unbridled paſſion?
This is the awful day that teems with thine
And Media's fate! Thou know'ſt that ev'ry deed
Muſt firſt begin with Heav'n—Go, ſeek the temple,
Devoutly there implore the gracious Gods
To ſmile propitious on our hopes, and learn
Henceforth to moderate—What have I ſaid?
Cyrus forgive this licence of my tongue,
So long accuſtom'd to a father's language;
I now muſt change my ſpeech—I am no more
The rigid parent that reproves his ſon;
I am a ſubject, that with faithful counſels
Wou'd aid his ſov'reign.
CYRUS.
Thou art ſtill my father,
My deareſt father—I confeſs my warm
Ungovern'd temper; but I will ſuppreſs
Theſe ſtarts of youth, and learn to tread the path
Thy wiſdom points: too dearly ſhould I buy
The throne, if I no more muſt call thee father
MITHRANES.
Yes, royal youth, thou ſhalt be ſtill my ſon,
Son of my fondeſt hopes;—for thee I've, watch'd
The tedious round of twenty circling years
Each turn of fate, in this ſequeſter'd, dwelling,
Far diſtant from the buſy haunts of men,
[14]Where, but on this returning annual pomp
Of ſacrifice, the print of human feet
Scarce marks the unworn turf.
CYRUS.
Once more farewell.
Yes, I will ſeek yon hallow'd roof to raiſe
Devotion's voice, and ſupplicate the Gods
To breathe a hero's ſpirit in this breaſt;
That when the ripening hours ſhall bring to light
The wiſh'd events of this auſpicious day,
My ſoul, enlarg'd to thoughts of conſcious greatneſs,
May hail with virtuous pride its birth to glory.
[Exit.
MITHRANES.
All gracious heav'n, with thy protecting arm
Defend my prince! Let me in one glad moment
Reap the full harveſt of my pious toils,
And old Mithranes then has liv'd enough—
But ſee where Harpagus appears.
Enter HARPAGUS.
My friend,
Where is Aſtyages?
HARPAGUS
But now arriv'd:
I left him in his tent in gloomy ſilence,
As if revolving in his mind the end
Of this day's ſacrifice. He ſends me hither
To learn if Cyrus yet approach the borders
And what the train he brings.
MITHRANES.
Believ'ſt thou then
He means, indeed, to anſwer Media's hopes,
And give the realm a ſucceſſor in Cyrus?
HARPAGUS.
[15]Truſt me, Mithranes, never.—If ſometimes
He feigns a momentary joy, or ſpeaks
With ſeeming fondneſs of the approach of Cyrus,
Methinks thro' all the dark diſguiſe appears
Some cruel purpoſe brooding in his ſoul.
MITHRANES.
Thanks to the pow'r that thus provides a victim
To fruſtrate ev'ry ill that thence might threaten
The ſafety of the prince: this bold impoſtor,
Who wears his name, ſhall with his name inherit
Each evil that's deſign'd him.
HARPAGUS.
Nor does Media
Owe leſs her thanks to heav'n, that gave Mithranes
To rear her prince to every future greatneſs,
In virtue's ſafeſt ſchool, an humble ſtation,
Far from the ſplendid vices of a court,
Where golden luxury, and ſilken ſloth,
Enervate our unhappy ſons.—But ſay,
Haſt thou to Cyrus yet reveal'd his birth?
MITHRANES.
I have.
HARPAGUS.
And how did he receive the tidings?
MITHRANES.
Amaz'd at firſt he heard the important truth;
But when convinc'd—O had you then beheld
His generous ardour;—ſcarce cou'd I prevent
His filial love from ſeeking out Mandane,
And throwing at her feet a darling ſon.
HARPAGUS.
[16]Of that we muſt beware.—The weighty ſecret
Of his concealment muſt not be entruſted
To a fond mother's tranſports: not Cambyſes
Knows yet this myſtery of fate.
MITHRANES.
'Tis ſtrange
Cambyſes comes not yet.
HARPAGUS.
Doubt not, Mithranes,
Cambyſes will be preſent 'ere the hour
Fix'd for the ſacrifice; perhaps ev'n now
He lurks diſguis'd upon the neighbouring confines.
He muſt be wary; well thou know'ſt what danger
Awaits him, ſhou'd Aſtyages diſcover
His mandate diſobey'd—but let us part,
We muſt not thus be found; the king may ſoon
Be here; where'er he goes, pale viſag'd fear,
And black ſuſpicion, on his ſteps attend.
Exeunt ſeverally.
END of the FIRST ACT.
ACT II.
[17]SCENE continues.
Enter MITHRANES.
CYRUS not yet return'd! ſtill, ſtill my breaſt
Owns all the fears and fondneſs of a father—
But hark! this way I hear the ſound of feet—
Some ſtranger by his dreſs—O mighty Gods!
What do I ſee—ſure I ſhould know that face!
Enter CAMBYSES diſguis'd.
CAMBYSES.
If in this land you venerate the pow'rs
Of hoſpitality, direct me, friend,
To where the annual ſacrifice is held:
I come a votary from diſtant climes,
To pay my offering at Aſtarte's ſhrine,
And view the ſacred pomp.
MITHRANES.
Myſelf will thither
Conduct your ſteps—it muſt, it muſt be he.
[Aſide.
CAMBYSES.
The Gods, protectors of your Median race,
Repay the courteous deed—but tell me farther;
How may a friendleſs ſtranger gain acceſs
To princely Harpagus?
MITHRANES.
The king now holds him
On buſineſs of the ſtate: this day the people
[18]Expect to find the kingdom's heir reſtor'd;
If haply thou haſt heard the name of Cyrus.
CAMBYSES.
Fame has thro' many a land divulg'd your ſtory:
I knew Cambyſes; both in Perſia born,
One city bred us: I remember well,
A private warrior, when he ſought the court
Of Media's king, till by his merit rais'd
He gain'd Mandane's hand; but dearly ſince
He paid the price of love with years of exile.
MITHRANES.
Shall I yet ſpeak
[Aſide.]
—Since thou indeed haſt known[To Cambyſes.
Unfortunate Cambyſes—but behold
Aſtyages is near—avoid his preſence:
Thy garb would breed ſuſpicion in the king,
And danger to thyſelf—in that cloſe covert
A while remain conceal'd.
[Cambyſes retires.
Enter ASTYAGES.
ASTYAGES.
Guards, keep the paſs
And ſuffer none to enter here.
[Speaks to Mirza entering.
MITHRANES.
[Aſide.]
What meansAſtyages? has he beheld this ſtranger?
Or has ſome ſpy in evil hour for Cyrus,
Reveal'd the ſecret of his fate?
ASTYAGES.
Mithranes!
MITHRANES.
My ſov'reign liege.
ASTYAGES.
[19]Are we alone?
MITHRANES.
We are.
ASTYAGES.
Come near, Mithranes, tell me, doſt thou ſtill
Retain in mind remembrance of the good
I did thee once?
MITHRANES.
My mind retains it all.
When firſt received into your royal court
I ow'd your bounty much; and when I left
The pomp of cities for the ſylvan wild,
It was your hand that gave this wiſh'd retreat.
ASTYAGES.
Say, if my happineſs, if all I ſought
Depended on thy zeal, might I not then
Expect to find thee grateful?—anſwer me.
MITHRANES.
What is there in my power that can avail
The welfare of my ſov'reign?
ASTYAGES.
Yes, my friend,
Thou can'ſt do much, can'ſt firmly fix the crown
Upon thy ſovereign's brow—know, all I ſeek
Is in thy hand—yes, ſpite of our decree,
Cyrus preſerv'd—
MITHRANES.
[20]What will my fate do with me!
[Aſide.
CAMBYSES.
Did not my ears receive the name of Cyrus?
[Liſtening.
ASTYAGES.
Thy colour fades; thou doſt perhaps divine
What I would ſay.
MITHRANES.
Thus proſtrate at your feet—
[Kneels.
ASTYAGES.
No, be not terrify'd, but riſe—the deed
Is eaſier than thy fears have form'd it—Cyrus
Believes our ſummons, and already comes,
With ſome few Scythians, on the kingdom's borders,
To wait the expected meeting—well thou know'ſt,
For years accuſtom'd to this ruſtic dwelling,
Each outlet of the wood, and may'ſt with eaſe
In ſome cloſe ambuſh ſo diſpoſe of Cyrus,
That he may never wake my terrors more.
CAMBYSES.
Inhuman murderer!
[Aſide.
ASTYAGES.
What ſay'ſt thou, ſpeak.
MITHRANES.
It ſhall be ſo,—my king ſhall be obey'd.
[Aſide.
CAMBYSES.
Moſt impious traytor!
[Aſide.
ASTYAGES.
[21]For the atttempt thyſelf
Alone will not ſuffice; thou muſt with care
Select thy truſty part'ners of the deed.
MITHRANES.
There needs no other but my ſon Alcaeus:
'Twere dangerous to confide to other hands,
An enterprize of ſuch import—Alcaeus,
Skill'd in the winding mazes of the wood,
Thro' which, at early dawn, he oft' is wont
To urge the ſavage chace, ſhall unſuſpected
Reach with a diſtant ſhart his life—
ASTYAGES.
Enough—
'Tis well conceiv'd—go then, my beſt Mithranes,
Inſtruct thy ſon; tell him, Aſtyages
Expects from him the end of all his terrors;
The deed once done I plant him next my heart,
To grow to wealth and honours.
MITHRANES.
Heavenly pow'rs!
[Aſide.
Defend me ſtill, and from ſuſpicion's eye
Preſerve yon ſtranger!
[Exit.
ASTYAGES.
Now, methinks, my mind
Is eas'd of ev'ry fear—Let Cyrus die,
And with him die the many doubts that ſhake
The boſom of Aſtyages.
[22] Enter CAMBYSES.
CAMBYSES.
Revoke
The dreadful mandate which thy lips pronounc'd,
On by th' eternal gods, the great avengers
Of guiltleſs blood—
ASTYAGES.
Ha! traitor! what art thou,
That lurking thus unfeen—death be thy portion.
[Draws.
CAMBYSES.
Nay then—
[Draws.
ASTYAGES.
Off, peaſant!—dar'ſt thou lift thy hand
A gainft the ſun's vicegerent!—
Enter MIRZA and guards.
MIRZA.
Seize the ruffian,
And inſtant drag him hence.
[Cambyſes is diſarmed, and at a ſignal from ASTYAGES the guards retire.
ASTYAGES.
Audacious villain!
Know'ft thou what puniſhment awaits thy crime?
Already torture ſhakes his ſcorpions o'er thee,
And anguiſh claims thee as her deſtin'd prey:
Confeſs what motives urg'd thy deſperate deed.
CAMBYSES.
Whate'er my motives, know, the ſoul that dares
[23]Attempt a tyrant's life, has fortitude
To brave whate'er a tyrant can inflict.
ASTYAGES.
Preſumptuous ſlave!
CAMBYSES.
Look here, Aſtyages,
View well this face; do not theſe features wake
Thy recollection? Twice ten years of ſuff'rance
Have wrought ſome change, yet ſure here ſtill remains
The trace of what I have been.
ASTYAGES.
Ha! whate'er?
Thou art, rightly my better genius warn'd me,
That ſomething baneful to my nature, lurk'd
Beneath thoſe abject veſtments.
CAMBYSES.
Tyrant, yes;
'Tis not for nought thy conſcience takes the alarm▪
For he's that injur'd ever is the bane
Of him that injures; let this meeting then
Rouſe each awak'ning terror in thy ſoul,
To ſee the man thou moſt haſt wrong'd—Cambyſes,
[Throws open his diſguiſe.
ASTYAGES.
Thou wretch! how haſt thou dar'd to enter Media
Againſt our high decree? And com'ſt thou too,
Aſſaſſin like, with ſacrilegious rage
To lift thy hand againſt a monarch's life?
But thou ſhalt find a welcome.
CAMBYSES.
[24]Yes, ſuch welcome
As thy paternal love prepares for Cyrus;
Thou hoary ruffian! was it then for this
The nobles of the realm were ſummon'd here?
For this was Cyrus call'd, to fall a victim
To thy death-dealing minion—curs'd Mithranes!
ASTYAGES.
Confuſion! am I then betray'd?
[Aſide.
CAMBYSES.
For me!
I ſcorn thy feeble menaces; I know
My life awaits thy nod—but mark me well,
The time may come, ev'n now perhaps the black,
The fatal hour impends, when thou ſhalt feel
The avenging hand of heaven.
ASTYAGES.
What ſay'ſt thou, ha!
Does ſecret treaſon lurk amid the ſmiles
Of ſeeming loyalty? Give me to know
What miſchief threatens.
CAMBYSES.
Seek to know no more;
Let it ſuffice I've given thy terrors birth,
And be it thine to cheriſh them.
AsTYAGES.
Ho! guards!
Convey this traytor to yon city's walls,
And lay him in ſome loathſome dungeon; there,
There ſhalt thou learn to ſpeak.
CAMBYSES.
[25]Thy rage is fruitleſs;
Hope not from me to be inform'd of aught
That may import thy ſafety.
ASTYAGES.
Lead him hence—
I'll hear no further—ſhall a wretch proſcrib'd
Revile the awful majeſty of kings;
And dare his anger, whoſe all-pow'rful word
Can in a moment ſix his doom?—Away.
CAMBYSES.
Come, whither muſt I go? Conduct me where
The cavern'd earth unfolds her deepeſt priſon,
Where light ne'er dawns; yet ſteady virtue there
Shall diſſipate the gloom; there the firm ſoul
Shall ſmile in torture, when amidſt the blaze
Of courts, the tyrant's mind ſhall ſhrink in darkneſs,
And while ſecurity ſurrounds his throne,
Trembles with fancy'd terror!
[Exit guarded.
Manent ASTYAGES and MIRZA.
ASTYAGES.
Yes, I feel
His threats already here; my lab'ring breaſt
Teems with new fears—Mirza.
MIRZA, coming forward.
What would my ſov'reign?
ASTYAGES.
Whence did this daring rebel break upon us,
And how elude thy vigilance?
MIRZA.
[26]My lord,
No ſteps un-notic'd could have paſs'd the guard;
Cambyſes muſt have lurk'd in ſecret here
Beneath ſome neighbouring ſhade; nor knew we aught
Of danger near your perſon, till the ſound
Of tumult brought us to your timely reſcue.
ASTYAGES aſide.
What ſhould I think? is then Mithranes falſe?
Mirza, I thank thy zeal; be ever thus
And I'll reward thee—ſure ſome deep deſign
Is brooding now againſt me—
Enter MANDANE.
MANDANE.
Hear me, ſir,
O! by theſe tears—
ASTYAGES.
What would my daughter? riſe—
MANDANE.
O never, never,—here I'll grow to earth
'Till pity, kindling in a father's breaſt,
Extend a gracious hand to ſave Cambyſes.
ASTYAGES.
Cambyſes!—name him not.
MANDANE.
Alas! my father,
After a tedious twenty years of abſence,
Fate now returns him, but returns in vain,
If, by your anger, he's deny'd to view
[27]His lov'd Mandane, to behold his ſon
Preſerv'd; but ah! for him preſerv'd in vain!
ASTYAGES.
Had'ſt thou, Mandane, heard his rebel threats,
His daring inſults breath'd againſt the throne—
MANDANE.
Forgive the tranſport of a boſom, torn
With double pangs, the father, and the huſband:
Alas! perhaps, he knew not Cyrus liv'd,
He knew not that Aſtyages had fix'd
This day, to meet and name him for his heir.
ASTYAGES.
And pleads my daughter in defence of him
Whoſe impious hand aſſail'd my life?
MANDANE.
O heaven!
ASTYAGES.
Tell me, when treaſon works the ſecret mine
To ſap my kingdom, ſhall Mandane's tongue
Extenuate his offence who plans my fall?
But thou, perhaps, art privy to their wiles,
Perhaps confederate with thy father's foes.
MANDANE.
What do I hear? And can you thoughts ſuggeſt
(My ſoul is chill'd with horror) that Mandane
Would join in murder's black conſpiracy
Againſt the hand that gave me life?
ASTYAGES.
I know not—
Whom ſhould I fear? Methinks I ſee rebellion
[28]Where duty's moſt profeſs'd! and thoſe my power
Can ſhake with terror, give me equal dread:
But for Cambyſes, would'ſt thou prove thy truth,
Name him no more—thus much a father-grants,
He ſhall not die—I to your tears remit
His forfeit life, which elſe had fall'n the victim
Of torture's ſharpeſt pangs—but as I prize
My crown, again he's baniſh'd from the land.
[Exit.
MANDANE.
And is it thus my fate begins to ſmile?
Is this the meeting Harpagus foretold!
O! my Cambyſes!
Enter CYRUS.
What art thou, that break'ſt
Thus importunely on my grief?
CYRUS.
Forgive
This ſeeming rudeneſs, beauteous excellence;
A ſon of freedom, nurtur'd in theſe woods,
Now ſhuns a fate, that threats that liberty
Which bounteous nature gave.
MANDANE.
What doſt thou mean?
CYRUS.
The royal guards purſue my ſteps, and ſoon
Theſe limbs, that 'till this hour, have rang'd at large
O'er the ſteep hill, or through the foreſt ſhade,
May ſeel the galling weight of ſervile chains
MANDANE.
Declare thy crime.
CYRUS.
[29]My crime was ſelf-defence:
Th' oppreſſor's ſword was rais'd again?s;t my life,
But heav'n then nerv'd my ſtrength, and from this arm
The wretch receiv'd that death he meant to give.
MANDANE.
What means my throbbing boſom?—Gentle youth,
Proceed—methinks I feel ſome ſecret impulſe
To liſten to thy ſtory.
CYRUS.
As but now
Alone I ſought the temple, from the woods
I heard a cry of deep diſtreſs:—I turn'd
And ſaw two ruffians ſeize a beauteous maid;
Fir'd at the brutal deed I caſt my dart,
And one I ſlew; the other, ſtruck with terror,
Forſook th' affrighted fair, who trembling fled,
And ere I could purſue her ſtops, a youth
Of fierce demeanour, clad in rich attire,
With ſword unſheath'd, impetuous croſs'd my way,
And menac'd vengeance for his ſlain companion—
But ſee the nymph herſelf, whom fav'ring heav'n
Sent me to ſave.
Enter ASPASIA.
MANDANE.
Wert thou the maid diſtreſs'd?
And is it true, that thou haſt 'ſcap'd the arm
Of brutal violence?
ASPASIA.
Yes, ſell deſtruction
Was hov'ring o'er me, when behold the friend,
That freed Aſpaſia from impending ruin,
With peril of his own—but, thanks to heav'n,
[30]My brave defender lives.—Say, gallant youth,
How did'ſt thou 'ſcape the ruffian's boiſt'rous rage,
That threaten'd thee with death?
MANDANE.
Relate the ſequel;
For ſince Aſpaſia bears an intereſt in it,
My heart more freely liſtens to thy tale.
CYRUS.
But little now remains—the fierce invader
Still preſs'd upon me, whilſt a river flow'd
Behind my ſteps, preventing all retreat;
Diſarm'd, what could I do? Neceſſity
Supply'd me with new arms; ſudden I ſnatch'd
A craggy flint from the rough pebbled ſhore,
And launch'd againſt the foe; a ſanguine ſtream
Bath'd all his face, the ſword forſook his hand,
And as he ſtagger'd round, with dying graſp
He ſeiz'd a bough, that over-hung the tide,
Which yielding to his weight, at once he fell,
And in the waves was loſt.
MANDANE.
Is this the crime
That juſtice ſhould purſue? Yes, my Aſpaſia,
'Midſt all the anguiſh of a breaking heart,
I feel a dawn of joy for thy deliverance.
ASPASIA.
What new diſtreſs afflicts Mandane?
CYRUS.
Gods!
[Aſide.
Was it Mandane whom I thus unknown
Have held in converſe?
MANDANE.
Oh! I'll tell thee all,
And reſt my ſorrows on thy faithful boſom.
[31] Enter Officer and Guards.
Officer.
Secure yon traitor, who has dar'd to raiſe
His ſacrilegious hand againſt his prince.
MANDANE.
Againſt his prince!
Officer.
'Tis to his arm we owe
The death of Cyrus.
MANDANE.
Say'ſt thou—death of Cyrus!
CYRUS.
It muſt be ſo—myſterious Providence!
[Aſide.
This hand, impell'd by ſome o'er-ruling pow'r,
Has ſlain th'impoſtor that uſurp'd my name.
MANDANE.
And did I hear thee right? Speak, ſpeak, Aſpaſia,
What meant his words?—Was C?rus then the ſlain?
O impious villain!
Officer.
'Tis, alas! too true,
The prince is dead, and by this youth.
ASPASIA.
O! heav'n!
CYRUS, aſide.
I muſt reveal my ſelf—but, no, I have ſworn
To keep my birth ſtill ſecret.
MANDANE.
O perfidious!
And cam'ſt thou then to me!—O all ye Gods!
To tell a well-feign'd ſtory of thy deeds,
And thus deride a wretched mother's grief.
CYRUS.
[32]Alas! I knew not, princeſs—
MANDANE.
Peace, deceiver;
Thou knew'ſt too well—thy tale is falſehood all.
O my lov'd ſon!—thy mother's better part!
And have I loſt thee thus again?—diſtraction!
O! my torn heart!
CYRUS.
I cannot bear her grief.
[Aſide.
MANDANE.
Speak, dear Aſpaſia, were not then my fears
Indeed prophetic? thus to loſe a ſon,
To find my hopes thus blaſted in their ſpring,
A mother's fondeſt hopes!
CYRUS.
O heaven! you know not—
The youth who fell beneath this hand—O! torture.
MANDANE.
Guards, drag the monſter ſtrait before the king—
ASPASIA.
O princeſs, calm the tempeſt of your rage;
If by reſiſtleſs fate impell'd, the youth
Incurr'd this guilt, indulgent heaven extends
Forgiveneſs to involuntary crimes;
Then imitate the mercy of the Gods.
MANDANE.
No more Aſpaſia—the relentleſs Gods
To me no mercy ſhew—my ſon is murder'd,
My huſband doom'd once more to baniſhment!
What is there elſe remains in angry fate
To add to what I ſuffer! every hour
[33]Of my ſucceeding life is mark'd for horror,
And all my thoughts are now deſpair and madneſs.
[Exit,
Manent CYRUS, ASPASIA, Officer and Guards.
CYRUS.
Go, fair Aſpaſia, follow and ſupport her,
And O! in pity ſooth a mother's ſorrows.
ASPASIA.
A mother's ſorrows from Aſpaſia's friendſhip
Shall claim the tendereſt care—And yet, Alcaeus,
This boſom now has terrors of its own,
I muſt confeſs I fear—
CYRUS.
What fears afflict
Thy gentle breaſt?
ASPASIA.
The danger of Alcaeus:
Think'ſt thou I can behold the gallant youth,
Who freed me from the ruffian graſp of pow'r,
Expos'd to death, yet feel not for his ſafety?
CYRUS.
My ſafety merits not Aſpaſia's care;
Nor think the ſuccour this weak arm could give
To innocence diſtreſs'd, was more than heaven
Claims from a heart, that, though in foreſts bred,
Glows at another's ſuff'rings.
ASPASIA.
Generous youth!
Wherefore, ah! wherefore has relentleſs fate
Involv'd ſuch virtue in misfortune's maze!
And urg'd thy hand to ſhed chy prince's blood;
That hand, which ſeem'd by every God deſign'd
To guard the life it took.
Officer.
[34]Remove the priſoner.
CYRUS.
Farewell, Aſpaſia, and remember time
May ſoon diſpell this cloud of ſeeming gui?t
Now caſt around Alcaeus.
[Exit guarded.
ASPASIA alone.
Grant it heaven!
What mean theſe heaving ſighs, theſe ſwelling tears,
Why flutters thus my heart? Is it compaſſion,
Or gratitude to him whoſe valour ſav'd me?
Ah! no—I fear a gentler cauſe excites
Theſe ſtrange emotions—Spite of all the pride
My ſex and rank inſpire—I love Alcaeus:
This ſylvan hero bears down my reſolves
That ſtill have prov'd in vain: when with my father
Chance led me firſt to viſit good Mithranes,
I gaz'd with pleaſure on his blooming ſon;
Again I ſaw, yet knew not that I lov'd him,
'Till this day's act that ſav'd me from diſhonour—
And yet for this day's act Alcaeus dies—
And ſhall he die for thee?—Ah! no, Aſpaſia,
The guilt was thine, thy fate has murder'd Cyrus;
Then let me ſeek the king, plead for Alcaeus,
And for his forfeit life lay down my own.
[Exit.
END of the SECOND ACT.
ACT III.
[35]SCENE, A Wood. The pavilion of ASTYAGES ſeen at a diſtance.
Enter MANDANE and MITHRANES.
MANDANE.
WHAT haſt thou ſaid, Mithranes? Is Alcaeus
My ſon, my deareſt Cyrus?
MITHRANES.
Peace, Mandane,
O heavens! be heedful.
MANDANE.
Where is now the danger?
MITHRANES.
Danger is ev'ry where: when cruelty
Extends her iron reign, we ne'er can keep
Too ſtrict a guard upon our ſpeech: a dream
May rouze the ſlumbering fury: fell ſuſpicion
On innocence will ſtamp the mark of guilt,
And tyranny aſſumes the mien of juſtice
To puniſh crimes that never yet had being.
The genial feaſt, the nuptial bed, the temples
Are not ſecure from treachery.
MANDANE.
At leaſt
Confirm my doubting thoughts.
MITHRANES.
What further proof
Can you require? Aſk your own heart, Mandane;
Your heart will teſtify a mother's feeling.
MANDANE.
[36]'Tis true, 'tis true—O! I remember all—
When firſt I view'd Alcaeus, how my blood
Thrill'd with ſome unknown paſſion! Why, Mithranes,
Wou'd'ſt thou ſo long conceal him from my love?
MITHRANES.
I fear'd to truſt maternal tenderneſs,
Which wiſdom ill can rule; had not your ſorrows
Awak'd my pity, had I not ſuſpected
The worſt from your revenge againſt Alcaeus,
To you your ſon had ſtill remain'd unknown.
MANDANE.
And yet Mandane's wretched, envious fortune,
Spite of the ſunſhine that would gild the proſpect,
Spreads o'er my day affliction's ſable clouds.
Cyrus return'd and living muſt excite
A mother's deareſt tranſports; but Cambyſes
Return'd, and doom'd again to baniſhment,
Unſeen, unwelcom'd, ſwells this heart with anguiſh.
MITHRANES.
Alas! my princeſs, calm your grief; let hope
Point you to future ſcenes of happineſs:
Heav'n that preſerv'd your Cyrus, will again
Reſtore Cambyſes to your longing arms,
And give him back to liberty and love.
MANDANE.
Fain would I liſten to the flattering ſounds
Of happineſs and peace—But yet, Mithranes,
Thou haſt not told the fortunes of my child:
Relate whate'er his tender youth has ſuffer'd,
By what ſtrange means—declare each circumſtance.
MITHRANES.
Some fitter time muſt tell thee—in the grove
That leads to my retreat—meet me ere long,
[37]And thou ſhalt learn it all—but ſoft; from far
I ſee the king approaching.
MANDANE.
Let us fly,
And bear to him the news that Cyrus lives.
MITHRANES.
O hold! 'twas this I fear'd—
MANDANE.
Thou know'ſt my ſon
Is now a priſoner.
MITHRANES.
But conſent to leave me,
And keep his birth ſtill ſecret from your father,
I plight my life to free him from his chains,
And give him to your arms.
MANDANE.
Is't poſſible?
And may Mandane in thy faith confide?
MITHRANES.
Confide in me!—Almighty powers! is this,
This the reward for all my loyal ſervice!
Is then my truth ſuſpected!
MANDANE.
O! forgive
Th' involuntary doubt, forgive the thoughts
Of one, who long the mark of ſorrow's ſhafts,
Diſtruſts each promids'd joy—I know thy goodneſs;
Yes, thou wilt ſtill prevent my buſy fears,
Miniſter to my hopes with faithful hand,
And to preſerve the mother, ſave the ſon.
[Exit.
MITHRANES.
Mandane, yes—ſtill in this care-worn breaſt,
Thy Cyrus lives; time, that unnerves theſe limbs,
Strengthens my loyal truth—be theſe white locks
[38]An emblem of my faith—But ſee the king,
Impatient for the news for Cyrus' fate.
Enter ASTYAGES.
ASTYAGES.
Mithranes!
MITHRANES.
Sir, your mandate is obey'd,
Be ev'ry fear that Cyrus rais'd, forgotten,
For Cyrus is no more.
ASTYAGES.
I know it well:
How do I ſtand indebted to thy zeal:
And yet, my friend, all is not here at eaſe,
I fear our ſecret is betray'd; Cambyſes
Reproach'd me with the purpos'd deed; Mithranes,
Tell me what ſays report? Does the loud tongue
Of popular invective point at me,
Or does ſuſpicion ſleep?
MITHRANES.
No rumour yet,
Of this, my lord, has reach'd my watchful ear;
Your guards convey'd Cambyſes pris'ner hence,
Nor aught from him has rouz'd the public notice
Reſpecting what your thoughts ſuggeſt.
ASTYAGES.
Enough—
Retire my friend.
MITHRANES.
Permit me to remind
My ſovereign maſter, that my ſon Alcaeus—
ASTYAGES.
I know what thou would'ſt ſay—thy ſon's in honds;
Already have I in my thoughts reſolv'd
To ſet him free, to heap rewards upon him;
[39]But yet we muſt beware, it might be dangerous
At once to pardon him whom all the realm
Muſt mark for open vengeance; ſuch proceeding
Might give a ſanction to whate'er the breath
Of diſcontent might raiſe againſt their king.
Truſt to my care—I'll watch th' important criſis—
Farewell, Mithraues.
[Exit MITHRANES.
ASTYAGES.
O! Aſtyages!
To what art thou reduc'd! The king's becom?
The ſlave of ſlaves—I now deteſt the wretch
Subſervient to my fears, but death ſhall ſoon
Seal up his lips,—Alcaeus too ſhall die.
The fate of Cyrus yields a fair pretence—
But hold—ſhould theſe by public juſtice ſuffer,
It muſt not be—ſome private hand were beſt—
But then Cambyſes—yes, he too muſt fall,
Or we are loſt—What dire neceſſity
Plunges me deeper ſtill in guilt! one crime
Begets a thouſand! Heav'ns! how is my ſoul
Bewilder'd in extremes of rage and dread!
I'm cruel from my fears, and from my cruelty
My fears increaſe, while one eternal round
Of torture plays the tyrant in my breaſt.
Enter HARPAGUS.
HARPAGUS.
Alas! my Lord.
ASTYAGES.
What ſay'ſt thou, Harpagus?
Why are thoſe looks of terror?
HARPAGUS.
Mighty king,
I fear for thee; I fear for Media's ſafety;
Ev'n majeſty itſelf is not ſecure.
ASTYAGES.
[40]Haſt thou diſcover'd aught of treaſon then
Againſt our perſon?
HARPAGUS.
No—but Cyrus ſlain
Alarms each loyal boſom, while his blood
Calls out for vengeance on the murderer's head.
ASTYAGES.
My friend, haſt thou then heard thy king's affliction?
Yes, cruel fate, at one unlook'd-for ſtroke,
Has robb'd my age of every promis'd comfort.
HARPAGUS.
O mockery of grief! but with deceit
Deceit ſhall be repaid.
[Aſide.
ASTYAGES.
To increaſe my ſorrow,
Juſtice forbids me to revenge the deed,
And puniſh on the wretch who murder'd Cyrus,
Th' involuntary crime—the care be thine
To guard him ſafe 'till we decree his doom.
Enter ASPASIA.
ASPASIA.
O mighty king! behold a proſtrate maid,
Imploring grace.
ASTYAGES.
Aſpaſia, ſpeak thy guilt.
HARPAGUS.
What means my daughter? whither can this tend?
ASPASIA.
A crime of deeper dye ne'er ſtain'd a ſubject;
'Tis I'm the wretched cauſe of Cyrus' death;
'Tis I'm the wretched cauſe that Media mourns;
'Tis I alone am guilty, not Alcaeus:
[41]In my defence, alas! th' ill-fated youth
Was urg'd, unconſcious, to the doed—O give
Your royal mercy breath, and ſpare his life.
ASTYAGES.
Aſpaſia, riſe; and learn whate'er the motive
That urges thus thy pity for Alcaeus,
Tho' nature loudly plead within my breaſt
For vengeance on the hand that murder'd Cyrus,
Aſtyages, unbiaſs'd by her voice,
Will act as public juſtice ſhall determine.
HARPAGUS.
O royal hypocrite! but this raſs girl
Has wak'd a thought that 'till this hour eſcap'd
The cautious ſearch of all-diſcerning age.
[Aſide.
My liege, the priſoner, by his guards conducted,
Is this way bending.
[To ASTYAGES.
ASTYAGES.
Let us thon behold him,
Tho' nature at his ſight recoil.
HARPAGUS.
He's here.
Enter CYRUS guarded.
ASTYAGES.
Say, is this youth the offspring of Mithranes?
HARPAGUS.
D?ead ſir, he is.
ASTYAGES.
He bears a noble aſpect;
Thoſe looks erect, that open mien, heſpeak not
A lowly birth—What ſay'ſt thou, Harpagus?
HARPAGUS.
Appearance oft deceives; not always does
The poliſh'd court diſplay the faireſt forms;
[42]And in the ſimple ruſtic's homely cell,
Nature ſometimes aſſumes a nameleſs grace,
Which greatneſs cannot reach.
ASTYAGES.
Yet, Harpagus,
There's ſomething in thoſe looks that moves me ſtrangely.
HARPAGUS.
My fears increaſe—
[Aſide.]
Retire, my lord, his preſenceBut adds to your affliction.
CYRUS advancing.
Mighty king,
Ere you depart, permit me thus to approach
With reverend awe; howe'er this erring hand
May call for public vengeance, yet believe
No conſcious guilt draws down the ſtroke of juſtice;
Here then before your ſacred feet—
HARPAGUS.
Forbear,—
Intrude not raſhly on thy ſovereign's grief,
Think who thou art, and what has brought thee hither,
Let it ſuffice thee in reſpectful ſilence
To await the laws decree.
CYRUS.
I ſtand reprov'd,
And bow me to the juſtice of the king.
HARPAGUS.
Still do you pauſe, my lord, what means this wonder?
Why are your looks thus chang'd?
ASTYAGES.
I know not why:
I feel emotions never known before;
And my heart melts with ſudden tenderneſs;
I leave him to thy care.
[Exit.
HARPAGUS.
[43]Again my ſoul's
At eaſe—Retire, Aſpaſia, with the criminal
I would be left alone.
[CYRUS walks apart.
ASPASIA.
My deareſt father.
If e'er you lov'd Aſpaſia, if the hand
Of this Alcaeus ſav'd her from the rage
Of an inhuman ſpoiler, do not ſully
Her brave deliverer with the name of guilt.
HARPAGUS.
Has he not ſhed the royal blood?
ASPASIA.
Alas!
He knew not that the youth he ſlew was Cyrue,
To guard his life he but repuls'd a force
That firſt aſſil'd.
HARPAGUS.
No more, but leave me.
ASPASIA.
O!
If you defend him not, you never lov'd
Your poor Aſpaſia—Think you now behold her
All pale and trembling in the ruffian's pow'r,
Hear her invoking earth and heav'n to aid,
Behold Alcaeus haſting to her reſcue,
And ſay, my father, then—
HARPACUS.
Take heed, Aſpaſia,
I fear me ſomething more than gratitude
Is hid beneath this warmth—but mark me well,
Unthinking maid, and hear a father's caution:
Let not imagination raiſe ſuch hopes
[44]As thou may'ſt find too late but ill befit
Thy glory, and my own.
[Exit Aſpaſia.
Let all depart,
And leave me with the priſoner.
[Guards retire.
Thanks to heaven,
I can at length, without conſtraint, addreſs
My vows to Cyrus, from my prince's hands
Looſe theſe vile manacles—before him bend
The humble knee of loyalty.
[Kneels.
CYRUS.
O! riſe.
HARPAGUS.
Permit me here to pay my earlieſt tribute;
Be this embrace the firſt, the ſole reward
My truth ſhall challenge.
[Embraces Cyrus's knees,
Yet forgive me, Cyrus,
If down my check unbidden ſteals a tear,
When I bchold that young, that blooming grace,
Spite of my conſtancy, ideas riſe
Of tendereſt recollection—I confeſs
The father here—but hence, ye ſoft'ning thoughts,
Be witneſs, heav'n, above my pangs I prize
This interview, tho' purchas'd with a ſon.
CYRUS.
Riſe, my deliverer—and while I thus
Enfold thee in my arms, accept theſe tears,
The ſole returns which gratitude can yield
For all thy ſuft'rings; but above the reſt,
For that unhappy ſon decreed to fall
An early victim in the cauſe of Cyrus.
HARPAGUS.
Let not the ſorrows of a ſubject claim
The tears of royalty.
CYRUS.
[45]Does royalty
Exempt the breaſt from every ſocial tye
That links mankind? Shall kings, my Harpagus,
Forget, that one inſpiring breath to life
Awak'd the prince and peaſant; and ſhall he,
The public voice proclaims his people's father,
Not feel thoſe ſorrows which his children feel.
HARPAGUS.
Exalted youth!
CYRUS.
Yes, I have beard it all.
Mithranes has unroll'd the ſecret page
That chronicles thy deeds; there I've perus'd
All that I owe to thee—and yet, my friend,
When I reflect, that after years of exile,
Cambyſes now return'd, is doom'd once more
To ignominious bonds; when I reflect,
Theſe eyes have never yet beheld, theſe arms
Embrac'd a father—
HARPAGUS.
But the hour approaches
Shall give thee ev'ry wiſh; as yet the work
Is incomplete, when yon declining ſun
Shall gild with feeble rays the temple's ſummit,
Thy fortune ſhall aſſume a brighter aſpect.
CYRUS.
But ſtill, Mandane,—ever honour'd name,
Still ſhall ſhe mourn a ſon's imagin'd fate?
Shall I not ſee her, Harpagus, and ſpeak.
The voice of comfort to a mother's grief?
HARPAGUS.
Alas! your filial piety o'er leaps
The bounds of cooler prudence—let us then
[46]Be circumſpect, my prince; nor in a moment
Deſtroy the great, the labour'd work of years;
But I muſt hence, Aſtyages expects me;
Mean while, retir'd to good Mithranes' dwelling,
Securely wait the great event, which time
Prepares for ſpeedy birth.
[Exit.
Enter CYRUS and MANDANE.
CYRUS.
O! could Mandane
Surmiſe, that in Alcaeus lives—
MANDANE.
This way
They led him to the king.
[Entering,
CYRUS.
What tender ſound,
No ſtranger to theſe ears—Ha! 'tis Mandane.
MANDANE.
It is, it is my ſon, my only child,
My dear, my long loſt Cyrus.
CYRUS.
Heav'nly pow'rs!
She knows me!
MANDANE.
Turn, O! turn for ſhelter here
Within theſe arms—O! wherefore doſt thou ſhun me?
Why fly from my embraces?
CYRUS.
Mighty gods!
What ſhall I anſwer?—
MANDANE.
Scatter ?o the winds
Each lingering doubt—I am, I am thy mother—
Does not thy heart confeſs me?
CYRUS.
[47]O! no more,
There is a ſomething here—forgive me, princeſs,
I dare no longer ſtay—
MANDANE.
Doſt thou avoid me?
GYRUS.
Has ſhe not known it all, and ſhall I ſtill
Diſtract her boſom thus?—O! never, never,
Since fortune thus compels me—No, my oath
Is regiſter'd above—the ſolemn tye
Mithranes only can releaſe.
[Aſide.
MANDANE.
Go on:
Think with an eager mother's fond attention,
I liſten to thy words—He hears me not!
Why doſt thou hold a converſe with thyſelf?
What means that reſtleſs ſtep?—Why is thy ſpeech
Confus'd and broken? Haſt thou not been told
That I'm thy mother? if thou haſt, ah! why
Would'ſt thou eſtrange thyſelf? and if till now
Thou knew'ſt it not, why wilt thou thus receive
A mother's love with coldneſs? Speak.
CYRUS.
My blood
Is all in tumult, ev'ry throbbing pulſe
Confeſſes nature's pow'r.
MANDANE.
Are theſe the tranſports
I vainly hop'd! Where are the ſtarting tears
Of mutual fondneſs? Where the dear embrace,
And the enquiries of impatient love?
This is too much—either thou'rt not my ſon,
[48]Or, to complete Mandane's miſery,
Nature in thee reverſes all her laws.
CYRUS.
Yes, I will fly this inſtant to Mithranes.
[Going.
MANDANE.
Wilt thou not ſpeak to me?
CYRUS.
Yet, yet a while
Suſpend your fond diſtreſs till my return.
[Going.
MANDANE.
But 'ere thou goeſt, with one poor word relieve
Theſe cruel doubts—art thou, or not, my Cyrus?
CYRUS.
Farewell—I can no more—neceſſity
Compels me now to ſilence, but when next
We meet, this face ſhall undiſguis'd declare
Th' emotions of my heart, and unreſerv'd
Theſe faithful lips pour all my ſoul before thee.
[Exit.
MANDANE alone.
What may this mean? Are then my hopes deceiv'd?
It cannot be—yet this myſterious meeting
Gives ev'ry fear th' alarm—Ye pow'rs! that guard
(If ſuch there are) a mother's peace, remove
Theſe new ſprung doubts; and, oh! direct my ſteps,
Loft and bewilder'd in this maze of fate.
END of the THIRD ACT
ACT IV.
[49]SCENE, The Wood, &c.
MANDANE alone.
MANDANE.
SUSPENSE, thou cruel ſtate of human ſuſſerings,
Life's deadlieſt calm!—ſtill, ſtill my thoughts are fix'd
On that dear youth I dare not call my ſon:
Did he not plight his faith when next we met,
To eaſe my ſoul?—He did—and hark he comes,
And every doubt is o'er.
Enter CAMBYSES.
MANDANE.
Ha! can it be?
What well known form—
CAMBYSES.
Mandane! O! 'tis ſhe,
My life's beſt treaſure!
[Embraces.
MANDANE.
Is is poſſible!
Cambyſes, do I once again enfold him?
Art thou eſcap'd from bonds? what friendly hand—
CAMBYSES.
A meſſenger from Harpagus o'crtook
The guard that led me—but ſome other time
Shall give thee all—for, O! I've much to tell thee,
And love impatient grudges each delay,
Each little pauſe of joy.
MANDANE.
How haſt thou borne
A life of abſence? how return'd again?
[50]How haſt thou—but I cannot ſpeak—let this,
This dear embrace, ſpeak where all words muſt fail—
Haſt thou yet heard our ſon—
CAMBYSES.
O! there, Mandane,
Ev'n at this meeting, while I hold thee thus,
My heart weeps blood—his infancy preſerv'd
From threaten'd death, bred up to ripening manhood,
Then, then to fall a ſacrifice at laſt,
To a curſt ruffian's rage!—
MANDANE.
What means my love?
O! were true, Mandane might indeed
Bid ev'ry joy farewell.
CAMBYSES.
Ha! true Mandane,
Is there a dawn of hope, that Cyrus lives?
MANDANE.
Yes I have been taught to hope, that he who fell
Was an impoſtor that aſſum'd his name,
And that the youth who ſlew him, was our ſon.
CAMBYSES.
Confirm it, pitying pow'rs!—but ſay, Mandane,
Haſt thou yet ſeen this youth?
MANDANE.
'Twas not long ſince
He parted from me.
CAMBYSES.
As I croſs'd the wood,
Where yon' tall poplars ſhade the dimpled pool,
I late beheld a youth, whoſe noble mien
Attracted my regard, I turn'd to gaze,
While with light ſteps he bounded o'er the turf;
[51]His auburn locks flow'd graceful down his back.
Quick was his piercing eye; his manly ſhoulders
A ſpotted tyger's dreadful ſpoils adorn'd,
Some gallant trophy of his ſylvan wars.
MANDANE.
'Tis he, 'tis that dear form that holds me now
In torture of ſuſpenſe.
CAMBYSES.
But when thou ſaw'ſt him,
What ſaid he?
MANDANE.
Little he reply'd to all
My fond addreſs, and when he ſpoke, the words
Half falter'd on his tongues his thought, confus'd,
Seem'd big with ſomething which he fear'd to utter.
AMBYSES.
Thy preſence might abaſh a ſimple ſwain,
Brought up in woods, unſkill'd in courtly phraſe;
But who reveal'd to thee his birth?
MANDANE.
Mithranes.
CAMBYSES.
Ha! did I hear thee right!
MANDANE.
If we may truſt
Mithranes' faith, by him was Cyrus bred
As his own ſon, and call'd by him Alcaeus.
CAMBYSES.
O! treachery forg'd in hell! Deteſted flaves?
Too credulous Mandane!
MANDANE.
Ah! what means
This frantic rage!
CAMBYSES.
[52]Alcaeus is the aſſaſſin
That murder'd wretched Cyrus, the dire blow
Was given by him, and at the king's command.
MANDANE.
What ſays Camyſes!
CAMBYSES.
Yes, I heard it all—
When firſt arriy'd chance led me to the dwelling
Of this accurs'd Mithranes, there conceal'd
I heard the king propoſe the deed, I heard?
Mithranes promiſe, that his ſon Alcaeus
Should be death's fatal agent—O Mandane!
Judge what were then my thoughts? rage urg'd me ſoon
To ſtart from my concealment, when with Mirza
The guards ruſh'd in, and I was made their priſoner.
MANDANE.
Where, where are now the hopes I vainly fed?
All loſt, for ever loſt!
CAMBYSES.
Cyrus is ſlain,
And ſlain by this Alcaeus—ſee'ſt thou not
Mithranes, fearing thy revenge, invents
This tale, to ſave his ſon from thy reſentment?
Does not the ſilence now of Harpagus,
Whoſe loyal truth is known, too well confirm it?
MANDANE.
O! 'tis too plain—Alcaeus is the aſſaſſin—
Hence his confuſion in my ſight—for this
He flew from my embraces, and tho' he came
With purpoſe to deceive a mother's fondneſs,
His ſoul ſhrunk back, all traitor as he was,
And ſhudder'd at a thought of ſo much horror.
CAMBYSES.
[53]Could'ſt thou ſo ſoon believe—
MANDANE.
Hadſt thou, Cambyſes,
Heard how Mithranes ſpoke, while every word
Seem'd the pure dictates of his heart—to this,
A ſtrange emotion that Alcaeus rais'd,
Gave ſanction to the tale—and add to all,
That what we wiſh we eaſily believe.
CAMBYSES.
Has then deluſive hope but lur'd us on,
To plunge us deep in fathomleſs deſpair?
MANDANE.
To lead a wretched mother to careſs
The murderer of her ſon—O! my Cambyſes,
It is not grief I feel—'tis rage, 'tis madneſs,—
CAMBYSES.
Thou ſhalt be ſatisfied,—
This arm, Mandane, ſhall revenge—farvewell
MANDANE.
But whither would'ſt thou go?
CAMBYSES.
To ſeek Alcaeus,
To pierce his murderous heart—not all the powers
Of earth oppos'd ſhall ſave him from my ſword;
Where, 'wixt yon' ſteepy hills, th' embo'wring wood
Forms a dark vale, Aſtarte's fountain flows
With lonely noiſe; there will I wait, that path
Leads to his home—my fury now is looſe,
And when this hand greets thee again, Mandane,
It greets thee with revenge.
[Exit.
MANDANE alone.
Strike home, Cambyſes,
And tell him 'tis a mother gives the blow!
[54]What if the traitor ſhould again return?
He comes!—O heaven! I ſhudder at his ſight.
Enter CYRUS.
CYRUS.
Entering.]
Bear, bear me ſwiſtly to her—ſome kind ſpiritBreath gently on her ſenſe, and bi [...] her wake
To all a parents rapture—Turn, Mandane,
Behold your ſon, your how aoknowledg'd Cyrus.
MANDANE.
O! moſt abandon'd ſlave!
[Aſide.
CYRUS.
At length, Mithranes
Conſents that in this wiſh'd embracc—
[Advancing.
MANDANE.
Forbear!
And dwells deceit in ſuch a form!
[Aſide.
CYRUS.
Ye gods!
How are thoſe features chang'd! what means that glance
Of keen reſentment! why am I repuls'd!
Or is it thus I'm puniſh'd for my ſilence
When laſt we met! What would my mother? Speak.
MANDANE.
The name of mother rives my bleeding heart—
CYRUS.
If I've offended, here I'll kneel and pray
Forgiveneſs for my fault—I ſwear by Mithras,
Whoſe chearing beam enlightens all, whoſe eye
Surveys the ſoul's receſs, that while my lips,
Reſtrain'd by ſolemn ties, durſt not confeſs
The feelings of a ſon, warm and alive
To nature's ſtrongeſt pow'r, my ſuffering heart
Bled for Mandane's pangs.
MANDANE.
[55]Be ſtill my rage—
[Aſide.
There lives not one whoſe breaſt more warmly feels
Maternal tenderneſs—betwixt yon' trees
Methought I heard ſome lurking ſpies—theſe woods
Are full of guilt and treaſon—ſmiling villain!
[aſide.
CYRUS.
Then let us ſeek ſome ſafer part to vent
Theſe ſtruggling paſſions—lead me where thou wilt,
I wait thy bidding—or if yet thou fear'ſt
To come with me might give ſuſpicion birth,
Where ſhall we meet?—O! ſay.
MANDANE.
I cannot ſpeak.
[Aſide.
CYRUS.
Say, thou wilt follow, and I'll haſte to where
Aſtarte's fountain bathes the neighbouring wood
Of thickeſt growth; in that ſequeſter'd gloom
No prying eyes ſhall witneſs to our meeting
Thy Cyrus there—know'ſt thou the place?
MANDANE.
I do.
[Impatiently.
CYRUS.
Let me not long expect thee.
MANDANE.
Hence, be gone!
[looking furicuſly at him.
CYRUS.
Celeſtial pow'rs!—wherefore that dreadful look!
MANDANE.
I would give way—but leave me—
CYRUS.
Yes, I'll go;
And while I wait thy coming, ev'ry breeze
[56]Shall ſeem the murmuring of a mother's voice;
Each little ſound ſhall ſeem a mother's ſtep,
Stealing to claſp a much-lov'd ſon! Remember
Aſtarte's ſacred fount—
[Exit.
MANDANE alone.
MANDANE.
O young deceiver!
He's gone!—What means my heart? Departing hence
He left, methought, a ſtrange emotion here;
Yes, ſpite of all my fury, I confeſs
The feelings of my ſex—his graceful mien,
His tender ſpeech, his blooming years, excite
Involuntary pity—wretched mother,
What muſt ſhe ſuffer, when ſhe ſees her ſon
All gaſh'd, and bleeding with a thouſand wounds—
But hence, this vain remorſe!—wilt thou, Mandane,
Compaſſionate the grief that others feel,
Forgetful of thy own?—no—let him die,
Thou art a mother too—
Enter ASPASIA.
ASPASIA.
Tell me, Mandane,
Know'ſt thou what fortune yet awaits Alcaeus?
Say, does he live? is he abſolv'd, or ſentenc'd?
MANDANE.
For pity's ſake, name not Alcaeus to me,
My ears deteſt the ſound—yes, curſt Mithranes,
I come—inſpire me now with direſt rage,
Give venom to my tongue, that every word
May plant a dagger in his heart!
[Exit.
ASPASIA alone.
How ſhall I learn his fate!—unhappy youth!
Mandane's frantic?grief—'tis thence I dread
Some cruel miſchief—but my father comes.
[57] Enter HARPAGUS.
HARPAGUS.
Aſpaſia, where's the princeſs?
ASPASIA.
But ev'n now
She went from hence, in all the pangs of ſorrow.
HARPAGUS.
What can this mean? Has ſhe not ſeen her ſon?
I fear ſome myſtery.
[Aſide.]
Tell me, Aſpaſia,Aught ſaid ſhe of Alcaeus?
ASPASIA.
No, my lord,
But when I aſk'd her of his fate—with looks
All pale and wild, ſhe ſtarted at the ſound,
Then charg'd me never more to name Alcaeus,
And vaniſh'd from my ſight.—You ſeem diſturb'd,
Forgive me, Sir, if with a daughter's love,
I preſs too boldly on your private thoughts:
Indeed I am to blame—but yet I fear
All is not well.
HARPAGUS.
The time is teeming now
With great events, and think not that thy father,
When hopes and fears divide each other's breaſt,
Can unconcern'd ſurvey the hour decreed,
Perhaps to fix the freedom of his country.
ASPASIA.
Ere the glad hour of peace, while dangers riſe,
Shall I not tremble for a father's ſafety?
Cyrus is ſlain, and by his death deprives
The people of their long expected joy
To hail the kingdom's heir.—Who knows from hence,
What inſurrections may be fear'd? the king
Is by his nature cruel, ever feeds
Suſpicion in his ſoul; that oft' incites him
[58]To break the tendereſt ties—Did not my brother,
Your lov'd Arſaces, fall an early victim?
HARPAGUS.
O! my poor boy! here dwells thy fate! and vengeance
Alone can blot it thence.
[Aſide.
ASPASIA.
Why, gracious pow'rs!
Was I not ſteel'd with manly fortitude?
Why throbs this breaſt with more than female terrors?
O! that a better ſex had given me ſanction
To ſhare in all your toils!
HARPAGUS.
No more, my daughter,
The milder fame that waits on paſſive virtue,
Is woman's boaſt—but tho' thy gentle kind
Forbids to mix in the rough ſcenes of life,
Yet thus far let me tell thee, Harpagus,
From this eventful day, expects to gather
A fruit long planted, that Alcaeus—
ASPASIA.
Sir!
[with emotion.
HARPAGUS.
Be not alarm'd, I ſee that name has warm'd
The roſes in thy cheek. Fear not, my child,
I will not chide thee; no, thou art my joy.
When firſt with me'thou ſaw'ft Mithrane's ſon,
Scarce now three moons elaps'd, thou may'ſt remember
Thy father's caution—
ASPASIA.
And theſe faithful lips
Have never breath'd his name.
HARPAGUS.
I know it well—
O! thou art goodneſs all—and 'tis with grief,
[59]With tenderneſs I ſpeak—but yet, Aſpaſia,
There is a cauſe—if thou regard'ſt thy peace,
If thou regard'ſt a parent's will, expunge
A paſſion from thy ſoul, which ere the ſun
Deſcends, may whelm thee in deſpair.
Enter MIRZA.
The king,
My lord, requires your preſence.
HARPAGUS.
I attend him:
Farewell, Aſpaſia, and remember—
[Exit.
ASPASIA alone.
O!
I ſee, I ſee it all,—remorſeleſs love,
In every day of my ſucceeding life,
Plants the ſharp thorns of ſorrow—ſtill, my father,
I will obey thee: yes, I will contend
Againſt this fatal paſſion; yet forgive me
If all is vain, at leaſt the ſmother'd flame
Shall burn within, and if I cannot ceaſe
To love, I can reſolve to be unhappy.
[Exit.
SCENE. The Grove before the Dwelling of MITHRANES.
MITHRANES, MANDANE.
MANDANE.
There needs no more, Mithranes, I confeſs thee
A mirror of unſully'd truth—proceed
No further in thy tale—I know already
What thou haſt done for Cyrus, and Cambyſes
Knows it not leſs—Invention has been rack'd
How to reward thy worth—perſidious ſlave!
[Aſide.
'Tis true, the recompenſe that's giv'n, will ever
Fall ſhort of thy deſert-yet what is done,
Tho' it ſeem little in Mandane's eyes,
Mithranes, when he hears, may find too much.
MITHRANES.
[60]What means Mandane? wherefore ſpeak'ſt thou thus
Of recompenſe and merits? by yon' heaven,
My ſoul abhors the mercenary ſounds!
Learn that my duty to my prince fulfill'd,
Comprizes all reward—this humble garb
Debaſes not the mind: thou know'ſt in me
Theſe weeds are voluntary, that I choſe
To lead this life of ruſtic ſolitude,
To keep, what ſtill I boaſt, this breaſt unſtain'd,
And never prove what thou would'ſt ſeem to think me.
MANDANE.
Gods! can he thus diſſemble?
[Aſide,
MITHRANES.
Thou haſt ſtarted
A thought that calls a bluſh to theſe old cheeks,
And wrongs my honeſt ſervices.
MANDANE.
Forgive me,
I muſt confeſs, the warmth of gratitude
Tranſported me too far: I know full well
That to exalted minds, their deeds alone
Are their reward: and he who can attain,
As thou haſt done, the ſov'reign height of virtue,
Finds all within himſelf, tranquility
With endleſs pleaſure, that in part reſembles
The ſtate of the immortals—ſpeak, Mithranes,
Haſt thou not prov'd ſuch happineſs?
MITHRANES.
I have;
Nor would I change it for a thouſand worlds.
MANDANE.
I can no longer hold—deteſted villain!
Thou murderous traitor! monſter!
MITHRANES.
[61]Say'ſt thou, princeſs!
Speak'ſt thou to me!
MANDANE.
To thee—and could'ſt thou think
Thy frauds would be conceal'd? and didſt thou hope,
Thou wretch, that for my own, I ſhould have claſp'd
Thy ſon in my embraces—no, perfidious!
I am not yet ſo hateful to the gods.
I've loſt my Cyrus, but I'm not to learn
By what curs'd means—I know by whom he fell,
And can and will revenge it.
MITHRANES.
What diſtraction!
What cruel error clouds your reaſon!
MANDANE.
Peace!
And mark me well!—now tremble if thou canſt—
Know that this inſtant, while I ſpeak, thy ſon
Gaſps for his lateſt breath.
MITHRANES.
What ſay'ſt thou? ha!
MANDANE.
Know too, ?hou wretch, 'twas I, 'twas I deceiv'd
And ſent him to his fate.
MITHRANES.
Thou!—Heav'nly pow'rs!
MANDANE.
Now ſee if thou haſt ought to hope, the place
Is far remov'd from help, and he who there
Awaits him, is—Cambyſes.
MITHRANES.
Ah! Mandane,
What haſt thou done! O! haſte! at leaſt diſcover
The fatal place.
MANDANE.
[62]Indeed—ſo might'ſt thou come
To intercept my vengeance—thou ſhalt know it,
But not 'till it is drench'd with blood, the blood
Of thy lov'd ſon, Alcaeus.—
MITHRANES.
Princeſs, yet
Have pity on yourſelf, he whom you think
Alcaeus, is your Cyrus—is your ſon—
MANDANE.
Hope not again to cheat my eaſy faith.
MITHRANES.
Gape earth, and ſwallow theſe time-wither'd limbs;
Heaven's ſwifteſt light'nings ſtrike this hoary head,
If what I ſpeak be falſe.
MANDANE.
Vain imprecations!
Familiar to the wicked—where's the wretch,
Harden'd like thee, who fears with impious tongue
To invoke the gods to falſehood?
MITHRANES.
Grant but this.
While here I'm kept in bands, haſte thou, prevent
The horrid deed, and if I then deceive you,
Return and vent on me your keeneſt rage;
Tear this old breaſt by piece-meal, for each hour
I've dragg'd this wretched life, invent a pang,
'Till cruelty herſelf ſhall ſtand aghaſt.
MANDANE.
O! ſubtle hypocrite! but naught avails thee;
I ſee thy purpoſe, driven to this extreme
At leaſt thou would'ſt ſuſpend the blow—thou know'ſt
I have no friend to truſt, and thou may'ſt hope
The king mean time may hear, and bring thee aid.
MITHRANES.
[63]What ſhall I do? Inſtruct me, gracious pow'rs
O! my poor prince!—Unhappy, fruitleſs cares.
Have I then toil'd my age for this!—Mandane,
I here again adjure each pitying god,
In witneſs to this truth—the feign'd Alcaeus
Is Cyrus—is your ſon—run, quickly ſave him;
Yet, yet believe me—If thou doſt miſtruſt
This agony of grief, thou wilt become
An object hateful to the world, and all
Thy future days ſhall be deſpair and horror.
MANDANE.
Rave on, for I enjoy it.
MITHRANES.
Mighty gods!
Do theſe white hairs deſerve ſo little faith?
Theſe furrows fill'd with tears—
MANDANE.
'Tis all in vain—
Thoſe pangs but ſpeak the parent—yes, barbarian,
Such is the ſtate to which I am reduc'd
By thee—and ſuch Cambyſes feels—'tis now
Thy turn to prove what 'tis to loſe a ſon!
MITHRANES.
Blind, wretched mortals! that too oft' exult
When miſery hovers o'er them—Speak, Mandane,
Say, where is Cyrus?—thou wilt ſpeak, but O!
'Twill then be found too late!
MANDANE.
Avaunt, thou traitor!
Hope not to ſhake my purpoſe!
MITHRANES.
Do I wake!
Where am I? ha! what darkneſs gathers round me!
Tell me, inhuman!—Why too cruel, gods!
[64]Am I reſerv'd for this—ſtill art thou ſilent!
O! let me fly—but whither? ſome kind power
Direct my ſteps—'tis all in vain—behold!
He dies!—O ſave him, ſave him!—
[Runs off.
HARPAGUS within.
HARPAGUS.
I've ſought him, but in vain!
MANDANE.
Sure 'tis the voice of Harpagus.
Enter HARPAGUS.
Mandane,
In happy time—haſt thou beheld Alcaeus?
Unleſs we find him, all our hopes are air.
MANDANE.
Is this the purport of thy ſearch—be calm,
I can inform thee of him.
HARPAGUS.
Thanks to heaven!
Direct me to him—he muſt now be brought
Before the people—nothing more remains
But to produce him—
MANDANE.
O! too generous friend!
I ſee thy aim, thou would'ſt appeaſe my vengeance
With public puniſhment—I thank thy zeal,
But 'tis too late, already has Mandane
Obtain'd revenge—
HARPAGUS.
Revenge! on whom?
MANDANE.
On him who murder'd Cyrus.
HARPAGUS.
Speak'ſt thou of Alcaeus?
MANDANE.
I do.
HARPAGUS.
[65]What means Mandane? has thy rage
Attempted aught againſt him?—O! take heed,
Thou tread'ſt a precipice.
MANDANE.
Ha!
HARPAGUS.
Know'ſt thou not
Alcaeus is thy ſon?
MANDANE.
My ſon!—O heaven!
Speak this again—
HARPAGUS.
Doubt not the truth—Alcaeus
And Cyrus are but one.—
MANDANE.
O! all ye hoſt above, aſſiſt me!
[going.
HARPAGUS.
Whither?
Hear me, Mandane—
MANDANE.
Let us fly, I cannot—
Cold, cold, my heart.—
HARPAGUS.
What means the deadly paleneſs
That ſteals upon thy cheek? the fatal dews
Of death are on thee, and thy trembling knees
Totter beneath their burden.
[Mandane ſinks down.
MANDANE.
Harpagus,
Fly to Aſtarte's fountain—ſave my ſon!
Perhaps he yet may live.
HARPAGUS.
What ſays Mandane!
Aſtarte's fountain?
MANDANE.
[66]Linger not a moment,
Even now he dies, and by a father's hand!
HARPAGUS.
Almighty pow'rs!
[runs off.
MANDANE alone.
O moſt accurs'd Mandane!
What fiend poſſeſs'd thy ſenſes, when Mithranes
Too truly ſpoke—and is there then no glimpſe
Of hope?—O! none!—all, all conſpires to baniſh
The leaſt kind doubt—theſe eyes beheld my ſon,
I heard his lips pronounce a mother's name,
My heart confeſs'd th' emotions of a parent;
And yet—
[riſing]
methinks even now I ſee him, nowHis voice is in my ears!—with what reluctance
He parted from me—O! my child! as if
His heart preſag'd his fate—and I—diſtraction!—
O horror! horror! hark, my huſband calls!—
He kneels! that angel form!—thoſe pleading looks!
Strike not—it is—it is—O! mercy, heaven!
[Exit.
END of the FOURTH ACT.
ACT V.
[67]SCENE, another part of the Wood.
MANDANE alone.
WHERE am I wandering! this way leads—but whither?
Hold, hold, my brain!—down, down, my buſy thoughts,
All recollection's madneſs—there a train
Of horrid images crowd thick upon me!
Yon bubbling fountain ſtreams with blood—I tread
On mangled limbs—what noiſe was that—a groan!
Enter MITHRANES.
MITHRANES.
Wearied with fruitleſs ſearch, methought but now,
I heard the ſound of wild diſtreſs—Mandane!
MANDANE.
Ha! what art thou?
[wildly.
MITHRANES.
O! tell me where is Cyrus?
Does he yet live?
MANDANE.
Who dares to ſpeak of Cyrus?
[raving.
Is't thou—take heed—we are obſerv'd—look there!
See were he comes, all pale and bleeding! ha!
Why do'ſt thou turn thoſe piteous eyes upon me!
Come, come, my ſon—nay, pry'thee do not ſhun me!
Thy mother will no more betray thee—
MITHRANES.
Break,
Break my too ſtubborn heart—have comfort.
MANDANE.
Comfort!
Curs'd be the tongue that ſpeaks again of comfort.
[68]Snatch me, ye whirlwinds, to ſome yawning gulph,
Let my remembrance periſh, left for me
Each ſon ſhould execrate a mother's name.
MITHRANES.
What ſhall I ſay to ſooth her? ſpeak, Mandane,
'Tis your Mithranes, your old faithful—
MANDANE.
Ha!
I know thee now—thou'rt heav'n's vicegerent, ſent
To judge, and to condemn me—
Thou ſtrict inquiſitor of crimes, before
Whoſe great tribunal—ſee yon dreadful witneſs!
At length 'tis done—and I am ſentenc'd!—Oh!—
Where have I been?—Mithranes!—
[Recovers.
MITHRANES.
How fares Mandane?
MANDANE.
Harpagus has curs'd me
With all the horrid truth—and now he's gone
To ſave my ſon, but O! I fear too late!
MITHRANES.
Then yet there's hope—
MANDANE.
Haſte to Aſtarte's fountain,
There death diſplays his terrors!—
MANDANE alone.
Pitying gods!
[Kneels.
In this ſhort interval of ſenſe, O! hear
A mother's anguiſh; ſave him, ſave my child;
Strike from his breaſt the lifted ſteel, nor curſe
With a ſon's blood, a father's erring hand!
[Riſes.
And now methinks ſome gentle ſpirit whiſpers,
Mandane, yet have hope—eternal juſtice
[69]Can never fail—my Cyrus lives—he lives!
And I ſhall once again embrace—but hark!
What haſty ſteps!—ha! 'tis Cambyſes! horror!
'Tis done, 'tis done—
[ſwoons.
Enter CAMBYSES, his ſword drawn, and bloody.
CAMBYSES.
My ſoul! Mandane! ſpeak—ſhe hears me not,
Senſeleſs and cold—but ſee, life gently breathes
Thro' her pale icy lips—direct me, heaven,
How to recall her wandering ſp?rits home.
Enter CYRUS.
'Tis ſhe, O! let me gently ſteal upon her,
Nor give her tender ſoul too ſoon the alarm!
CAMBYSES.
Gods! is not that the murderer of my ſon?
[turning.
CYRUS.
My mother pale and breathleſs!
[advancing.
CAMBYSES.
Paſs no further.
Art thou not call'd Alcaeus? ſpeak.
CYRUS.
I am,
CAMBYSES.
My wife!
Look up, behold your wiſh'd revenge compleated
By your Cambyſes' hand.
[attacks Cyrus.
CYRUS.
Yet ſtay—O! heavens!
Tell me—art thou Cambyſes?
CAMBYSES.
Yes, thou wretch!
I am Cambyſes—die—
CYRUS.
My deareſt father!
Defer your rage—firſt know me for your ſon,
[70]Then plunge your weapon here, I will not ſhrink,
But bare my breaſt to meet the blow.
[kneels.
MANDANE.
Where am I!
Ha! is it poſſible! what means that form!
[raiſing herſelf.
CAMBYSES.
And ſhall I liſten to his ſoothing tale
All ſalfe as hell—no—periſh.
[attacks Cyrus.
MANDANE.
Hold, Cambyſes!
[interpoſing.
Thou kill'ſt thy ſon!
CAMBYSES.
Ha! kill my ſon!
[drops his ſword.
MANDANE.
My child!
[embracing Cyrus.
And do I claſp thee thus! it is too much.
CYRUS.
And do I now embrace a mother's knees?
And does ſhe own me too?
CAMBYSES.
Amazement!—ſpeak,
Mandane, do I dream? Can this be Cyrus?
MANDANE.
O! yes—it is my Cyrus—gracious heav'n
That ſnatch'd him from a father's rage!
CYRUS.
My father!
[kneels.
CAMBYSES.
Riſe to my arms, my ſon! [embrace] how is my ſoul
Perplex'd amidſt theſe ſtrange events—Mithranes—
MANDANE.
Mithranes ſtill is true—but ſay what blood
Diſtain'd thy ſword? didſt thou not wait but now
With dreadſul purpoſe?
CAMBYSES.
[71]No—ere I had reach'd
The appointed place, Mirza by chance aſſail'd me
With a few ſca [...]ter'd guards; I wounded ſome,
Then under favour of the ſheltering wood
Eſcap'd from their purſuit; and hence the blood
That wak'd thy terrors.
CYRUS.
At the ſacred fount,
I waited long, till Harpagus appear'd,
Diſclos'd a wonderous tale, and bade me fly
To eaſe a mother's anguiſh.
Enter MITHRANES.
MANDANE.
O! Mithranes,
What bleſt events!
MITHRANES.
The time admits not, princeſs,
Of long congratulations—Harpagus
Has told me all; the hour of ſacrifice
Is now at hand; my prince, retire awhile;
Thou too, Cambyſes, for this way the king
Goes to the temple.
MANDANE.
Muſt we part ſo ſoon?
CYRUS.
But for a time—farewell—lead, good Mithranes.
[Exeunt Cyrus and Mithranes.
Enter ASTYAGES and MIRZA bebind.
MANDANE.
And wilt thou leave me too?
CAMBYSES.
Mourn not, my love,
When next we meet, we meet in happier hour,
To part no more.
ASTYAGES.
Mirza, 'tis true—but hold,
Let us obſerve awhile.
CAMBYSES.
[72]Yes, my Mandane,
Since Cyrus lives—
ASTYAGES.
What do I hear?
[aſide.
CAMBYSES.
His fortune
Shall be our conſtant theme.—Heav'n that preſerv'd,
Has ſurely form'd him for a life of glory:
But I muſt hence, farewell.
[going.
ASTYAGES.
Cambyſes, ſtay.
[coming forward.
MANDANE.
O heav'ns, the king!
ASTYAGES.
Let not my preſence check
Your riſing joys, I came to ſhare them with you;
Diſcloſe the wonderous truth: what pious care
Bred up his youth? where is he now conceal'd?
Not ſpeak—Mandane—does my daughter too
Refuſe this ſatisfaction to a parent?
Since then the father mildly pleads in vain,
The king ſhall force obedience—ſeize Cambyſes—
[Guards enter and ſeize him.
Enter HARPAGUS.
HARPAGUS.
Aſtyages,
[in haſte.
Thou art betray'd—haſte—ſtop the kindling tumult,
Thy preſence only can prevent.—
ASTYAGES.
What mean'ſt thou?
Whence this new alarm?
HARPAGUS.
The rumour ſpreads
That Cyrus lives, that now he's at the temple,
[73]All thither run with ſpeed, to ſee and ſwear
Allegiance to him, while the madding crowds,
With general voice exclaim, "Cyrus is king!"
"Cyrus ſtill lives, Aſtyages ſhall die."
ASTYAGES.
Perfidious ſlaves!—is this the ſecret then
Your breaſts conceal'd?
[To Cambyſes and Mandane.
But henceforth I'll forget
All ties of blood, both periſh by this hand,
The victims of my juſt reſentment.
[Draws.
HARPAGUS.
Hold,
My king—if it be true that Cyrus lives,
Preſerve his parents ſtill, as hoſtages
That may ſecure his faith.
ASTYAGES.
Thou counſell'ſt well;
Remove them hence: Mirza, the charge be thine
To guard them in my tent; come, Harpagus,
And let us prove the worſt; but if we fall,
We will not fall alone.
HARPAGUS.
Aſſiſt me now,
[Aſide.
Ye demons of revenge; nerve this good arm,
And, tyrant, if thou canſt, eſcape my toils.
[Exeunt Aſtyages and Harpagus on one ſide, and Cambyſes and Mandane on the other, guarded.
SCENE. The Grove before the Dwelling of Mithranes.
CYRUS alone.
Yet, yet a little, and thy fortune, Cyrus,
Shall break upon the light; perhaps this inſtant
Verges on the diſcovery—teach me, heaven!
To bear this burſt of dignity—but now
A ſimple inmate of theſe woods; and now
The heir of Media's e?pire! humble merit
Suffic'd Alcaeus—narrow bounds preſcrib'd
[74]His ſocial duties, but the ſoul of Cyrus
Expands to nobler views; a prince's virtues
Are not confin'd to private life, but graſp
The happineſs of millions.
Enter ASPASIA.
ASPASIA.
Haſte, Alcaeus,
Haſte, and partake the general tranſport! Cyrus
Yet lives, again he's found, the wretch who fell
By thee, uſurp'd his title.
CYRUS.
Fair Aſpaſia,
How know'ſt thou this?
ASPASIA.
There is no room for doubt:
Theſe plains re-echo nothing now but Cyrus.
[ſhout.
Hark! how applauding ſhouts proclaim their rapture!
Some ſcatter flowers, or round their temples bind
The feſtive wreaths, with tears of gratitude
Some pay their thanks to heaven: from rural toil
This drags his fellow; in the unfiniſh'd furrow
Here reſts the ſhare; there roves, without their ſhepherd,
The flock forſaken: mothers wild with joy,
Teach their young ſons to liſp the name of Cyrus;
Even age forgets its feeble ſtate; and children,
Taught by example, tho' they know not why,
With infant prattle join the common voice.
Enter MITHRANES and Guards.
MITHRANES.
Let us to the temple,
My prince, theſe guards by Harpagus are ſent
For your defence—come then, and with your preſence,
Eaſe your impatient friends.
CYRUS.
Is then my fate
Already publiſh'd?
MITHRANES.
[75]All is now proclaim'd,
And Harpagus has, by undoubted proofs,
Reveal'd your birth.
CRYUS.
Didſt thou not wiſh, Aſpaſia,
To gaze on Cyrus? now thou may'ſt behold him,
I am that Cyrus.
ASPASIA.
Ha!
CYRUS.
Why droops Aſpaſia?
Doſt thou not joy in my ſucceſs, or does
The heart that trembled for Alcaeus' danger,
Repine at Cyrus' fortune?
ASPASIA.
Pardon, ſir,
A ſimple maid, nor wonder that the bluſh
Overſpreads my cheek, when I reflect, for me
My ſovereign's life expos'd.—
CYRUS.
Riſe, fair Aſpaſia,
And know the daughter of my Harpagus,
In her defence may juſtly claim that life
Her father's truth preſerv'd.
Enter MESSENGER.
MITHRANES.
Diſpatch, my ſon—
But who comes here? whence art thou?
MESSENGER.
From the temple,
Where all is tumult and diſmay; the king,
Encompaſs'd by a rebel band, is threaten'd
With ſpeedy death—
CYRUS.
Swiſt let us fly to ſave him:
Whate'er the errors of Aſtyages,
[76]His kindred blood flows thro' the veins of Cyrus,
And nature ſhudders at a parent's danger—
Away, my friends! farewell, farewell, Aſpaſia!
ASPASIA alone.
Alcaeus—Cyrus! O! that fatal thought,
My father too—did I not hear ev'n now,
Of tumult and revolt—amidſt the waſte
Of rebels rage, where death wings ev'ry ſhaft,
Who knows what perils may ſurround his life?
Then let me fly, and intercept with mine,
The point that threats the breaſt of Harpagus!
Or ſhall he fall? which all ye pow'rs avert,
?t leaſt partake his fate, and die beſide him!
[Exeunt Cyrus, Mithranes, and guards.
SCENE, outſide view of a magnificent temple.
Claſhing of ſwords; Aſtyages his ſword drawn; Harpagus enters.
ASTYAGES.
O! perjur'd traitors! where is now the faith,
You vow'd your king? do all forſake my cauſe?
No ſome ſhall yet be found—what, Harpagus,
Thou com'ſt in time to give thy ſovereign aid,
Thy loyal ſword—
HARPAGUS.
Tyrant, thou art deceiv'd
Know, 'tis by me thou fall'ſt.
ASTYAGES.
By thee?—confuſion!
Is this thy faith?
HARPAGUS.
What faith was due from him,
Whoſe ſon thy fury murder'd? long, too long
A father's breaſt has borne the ſmother'd anguiſh;
At length it burſts to vengeance; and this hour
Exacts full retribution—blood for blood!
ASTYAGES.
[77]Diſſembling traitor!
HARPAGUS.
'Tis not now a time
To waſte in vain debate—this to thy heart,
This for my poor Arſaces!
[ſight.
CYRUS.
Hold, my people!
[within.
What rage tranſports you? 'tis your Cyrus calls,
Save, ſave the king—where is Aſtyages?
Enter CYRUS, his ſword drawn, attended.
CYRUS.
'Tis then too late—turn villain—
[Goes to kill Harpagus, who turns to him.
Harpagus!—
What haſt thou done!—
O! thou haſt ſtain'd my infancy of glory,
And late poſterity will brand the name
Of Cyrus, that to aſcend the Median throne,
He waded thro' that ſacred blood—my king!
Lift up your eyes, behold your Cyrus here.
ASTYAGES.
Say, what art thou?—O! I have wander'd long
In darkneſs, now methinks the ſcene is drawn;
And death, that great remembrancer, calls forth
A thouſand black ideas—who art thou?
CYRUS.
Your Cyrus, Mandane's Cyrus.
ASTYAGES.
Art thou
Indeed my Cyrus? art thou he whoſe life
My cruelty purſu'd?—but heaven is juſt;
Aſtyages ſhall be no longer fear'd—
Cyrus to thee, as to Mandane's offspring,
[78]My crown ſhall now deſcend—my deareſt ſon,
Be warn'd by me—ſtill venerate the gods,
And with thy glory veil the ſhame of—oh!
[dies.
CYRUS.
There fled the royal ſpirit.—
HARPAGUS.
Forgive me, prince, howe'er reſentment urg'd
This hand againſt Aſtyages, my faith
To thee has been unſhaken—witneſs heaven,
I die, and die with joy; ſince I behold
Cyrus reſtor'd to Media.
[ſinks.
CYRUS.
Ha! thou faint'ſt!
HARPAGUS.
Yes, generous youth!—thou need'ſt not ſeek revenge
For what this arm has done—ere I had reach'd
Aſtyages, his weapon pierc'd my breaſt,
And mark'd me for the ſhades—this deed of death
Was mine alone—to none my ſoul imparted
Her preconceiv'd revenge; then with me die
Remembrance of it—yet there's ſomething more—
I have a daughter—O! I fa?nt!—if aught
I may implore of Cyrus, let her find
Protection—oh!
[dies.
CYRUS.
Thou moſt unhappy man!
Why was thy liſe thus clos'd, that Cyrus ſcarce
Without a crime can pay the grateful ſorrows
Thy merit claims—
Enter CAMBYSES, MANDANE, and MITHRANES.
MANDANE.
Alas! alas! my father!
[runs to Aſtyages, and kneels by him.
CYRUS.
Cambyſes and Mandane here!
CAMBYSES.
Amidſt
The riſing tumult now, a choſen troop
Of friends aſſail'd the royal tent, when Mirza
Was ſlain, and we were freed.
MANDANE.
[79]Then he is gone—
His faults ſink with him to the grave—farewell,
Farewell for ever—my remembrance now
Looks back but on thoſe happy years, when all
A father's fondneſs whatch'd his darling child—
Theſe tributary tears—
CAMBYSES.
Awake, Mandane,
To better ſcenes—the tempeſt that ſo long
Has blacken'd round us, ſhall be now diſpell'd,
And days of peace ſucceed.
MITHRANES.
See where Aſpaſia,
[looking out.
Frantic with grief, breaks thro' the pitying crowd,
And ſeeks for Harpagus.
CYRUS.
Unhappy fair-one,
Look to the lovely mourner—thou, Mandane,
Wilt ſooth her orphan ſorrows.—
CAMBYSES.
Droop not, ſon,
But rouze the latent hero; think from thee
What fate exacts; on thee what nations turn
Their long-deſiring eyes.—
CYRUS.
Alas, my father!
How ſhall I run this arduous race of glory?
Be preſent thou, and with maturer counſels
Support my erring youth: thou too, Mithranes,
Still guard that virtue which thy foſtering care
Firſt taught to bloom in life's ſequeſter'd vale;
O! may it now thro' Aſia's realms extend
The bleſſings of my ſway, that every age
May learn to venerate the name of Cyrus!
Appendix A EPILOGUE.
[]WEll, here I am—thank heaven! no more Mandane—
Among ourſelves this bard is but a Zany.
Says I—when firſt he offer'd me the part,
I hope'tis nature—levell'd at the heart!
Says he—a huſband thought ſar off to roam,
Diſguis'd, and unexpectedly comes home.
A ſon returns, loſt twenty years, dy'e ſee,
To call you mother, tho' not thirty-three.
This (I reply'd) will do, if I can gueſs,
For this indeed is natural diſtreſs—
Diſtreſs! (he cry'd) you quite miſtake the thing;
Aſtyages you'll find—had dreamt—the king—
I ſtop'd him ſhort—perhaps it may be true,
That your old nature differs from your new.
From various cauſes equal ſorrows flow,
All realms and times have ſome peculiar woe:
With us what griefs from ills domeſtic riſe,
When now a beau—and now a monkey dies!
In this our iron age, ſtill harder lot,
A maſquerade, no ticket to be got—
Your obſolete diſtreſs may now be told—
Let's ſee—there's raviſhing—that's very old.
There's love that ſcorn'd a title and eſtate—
Theſe woes of love are vaſtly ou? of date!
Then there's your martyr to his country's weal—
What ſtrange diſtreſs theſe ancients us'd to ſeel!
The love of country now indeed runs high;
They prove its value moſt, who deareſt buy;
Think what our patriots pay in ſterling gold,
A ſingle borough for ſeven years to hold.
Tho' here in ſtatu quo I ſtill remain,
I've oft been married, raviſh'd, erown'd and ſlain!
None of all theſe have been my [...] to-night,
So us'd to fancy'd angu [...] and [...]light;
Yet let me hope you felt the part I bore,
Give me your plaudit— [...] can wiſh no more.
FINIS.
- Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3962 Cyrus a tragedy As it is performed at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden By John Hoole. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-6075-4