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For her confederate nations fought, and kings | Begone! I know thee not! Thou fell barbarian!

were slain,

!

Troy was o'erthrown, and a whole empire fell. My eyes want force to raise a lover's arm, Against a tyrant that has dared to wrong me Cleo. Madam, like Helen, trust your cause to Greece.

Her. No; I'll avenge myself! I'll to the temple!

I'll overturn the altar, stab the priest !

I'll hurl destruction, like a whirlwind, round me! They must not wed! they must not live! they shall not!

Let me be gone! I have no time to lose!
Stand off! hold me not! I am all distraction!
Oh, Pyrrhus! Tyrant! Traitor! Thou shalt bleed!
Enter ORESTES.

Orest. Madam, 'tis done; your orders are obeyed:

The tyrant lies expiring at the altar.
Her. Is Pyrrhus slain?

Orest. Even now he gasps in death:
Our Greeks, all undistinguished in the crowd,
Flocked to the temple, and dispersed themselves
On every side the altar. I was there;
Pyrrhus observed me with a haughty eye,
And, proud to triumph over Greece in me,
From his own brows he took the diadem,
And bound it on the temples of his captive;
Receive, said he, my crown; receive my faith;
Mine and my people's sovereign reign for ever.
From this blest hour, a father to your son,

I'll

Scourge his foes; henceforward be he styled The Trojan king; I swear it at the altar, And call the gods to ratify my vows. His subjects, with loud acclamations, shook The spacious dome. Our Grecks, enraged, cried out,

Revenge! revenge! broke through the thronging

press,

And rushed, tumultuous, on the unguarded king;
Their eager fury left no work for me.
Pyrrhus awhile opposed their clashing swords,
And dealt his fatal blows, on ev'ry side,
With manly firmness; till, opprest by numbers,
Streaming with blood, all over gashed with
wounds,

He reeled, he groaned, and at the altar fell.
-Haste, madam; let us fly! Haste to our ships!
They lie unmoored: our friends attend us there.
Her. What have they done!

Orest. Madam, forgive their rage.

I own your vengeance had been more complete, Had Pyrrhus fallen by me, and had he known Hermione chastised him by my arm.

Her. Peace, monster! peace! Go tell thy horrid tale

To savages, and howl it in the desert.
Wouldst thou impute to me thy barbarous guilt?
Me wouldst thou make the accomplice of thy
crimes?

Hence to thy Greeks, and boast thy foul exploits!

My soul abhors them! I disclaim the deed!

What had he done? What could provoke thy

madness,

To assassinate so great, so brave a man?
Who set thee on?

Orest. Oh, grant me patience, Heaven!
With your own lips did you not curse the tyrant,
Pronounce his death, and urge me to destroy
him?

Her. What if, transported by my boundless
passion,

I could not bear to see him wed another,
Were you to obey a jealous woman's frenzy?
You should have dived into my inmost thoughts:
My heart, though full of rage, was free from ma-
lice;

And all my anger was excess of love.
Why did you take me at my word! You saw
The struggles of my soul; you heard me rave;
You should have questioned me a thousand times,
Yet still have doubted, and still questioned on,
Before you ventured on a life so precious.

Orest. Hear me but speak: Heaven knows, against my will

Her. Why did you not return? Why not consult me

A second time? And, undetermined still,
Again return, and still find new delays?
What had your rash officious Greeks, dire blood-

hounds!

To do with my revenge? What drew you hither? To bring on me the vengeful woes that haunt you?

Are these the fruits of your detested love?
Your fatal embassy, your hateful presence,
Drove Pyrrhus to my rival; and destroys
Both him and me. He might have loved me still,
Had you ne'er interposed-Avaunt! Begone!
And leave me in Epirus. I renounce
My friends, my country, Greece, and all man-
kind:

But chiefly I renounce thee! monster, thee!

[Exit.

Orest. Am I awake? Where am I? Soft, my
soul;

Be not too rash.- -Was that Hermione?
Why should her anger thunder against me?
Was not this blood shed all by her command?—
I am, indeed, a most outrageous monster !
A ruffian, murderer, a base assassin !
And all to please a false, ungrateful woman.
Henceforward let the laws of nations cease;
And let the pale, that severs right and wrong,
Things sacred and profane, be broken down;
Gods in their temples, kings upon their thrones,
Are not in safety, while Orestes lives!
Oh! never more shall my torn mind be healed,
Nor taste the gentle comfort of repose!
A dreadful band of gloomy cares surround me,
And lay strong siege to my distracted soul!

Enter PYLADES, attended by Greeks.
Pyl. Haste, prince; let us be gone: 'tis death

to stay. Andromache reigns queen: she gives the alarm,

And vows revenge upon the foes of Pyrrhus. The people arm and muster in the streets: Our Greeks will not be able long to guard The palace gates, and to secure our flight. We must be speedy, sir.

Orest. You may depart,

My friends- -Hermione and I remain-
Her cruelty has quite undone me!-Go,
And leave me to myself—I'll find her out.
Pyl. Alas, unhappy princess! she's no more;
Forget her, sir, and save yourself with us.

Orest. Hermione no more!-Oh, all ye powers! Pyl. Full of disorder, wildness in her looks, With hands expanded, and dishevelled hair, Breathless and pale, with shrieks she sought the temple;

In the mid-way she met the corpse of Pyrrhus; She started at the sight; then, stiff with horror, Gazed frightful: waking from the dire amaze, She raised her eyes to heaven with such a look, As spoke her sorrows, and reproached the gods: Then plunged a poniard deep within her breast, And fell on Pyrrhus, grasping him in death.

Orest. I thank you, gods-I never could ex-
pect

To be so wretched-You have been industrious
To finish your decrees; to make Orestes
A dreadful instance of your power to punish.
I'm singled out to bear the wrath of Heaven.

Pyl. You hazard your retreat by these delays. The guards will soon beset us. Your complaints Are vain, and may be fatal.

Orest. True, my friend:

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Pyl. Alas! I fear

His ravings will return with his misfortunes. Orest. I am dizzy!—Clouds !—Quite lost in utter darkness.

Guide me, some friendly pilot, through the storm.
I shiver! Oh, I freeze!-So;-Light returns;
'Tis the grey dawn!-See, Pylades!-Behold!
I am encompassed with a sea of blood!—
The crimson billows!-Oh, my brain's on fire!
Pyl. How is it, sir?-Repose yourself on me.
Orest. Pyrrhus, stand off!- -Why wouldst
thou?-How he glares!
What envious hand has closed thy wounds?-
Have at thee.

It is Hermione that strikes

-Confusion!

She catches Pyrrhus in her arms.-Oh, save me!

How terrible she looks! She knits her brow! She frowns me dead! She frights me into madness!

Where am I?-Who are you?

Pyl. Alas, poor prince!

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I blaze again! See there! Look where they come A shoal of furies-How they swarm about me! My terror! Hide me! Oh, their snakey locks! Hark, how they hiss! See, see, their flamin brands!

Now they let drive full at me! How they grin, And shake their iron whips! My ears! What yelling!

And see, Hermione! She sets them on-
Thrust not your scorpions thus into my bosom!
Oh! I am stung to death! Dispatch me soon!
There-take my heart, Hermione! Tear it out!
Disjoint me! kill me!-Oh, my tortured soul!
Pyl. Kind Heaven restore him to his wonted
calm!

Oft have I seen him rave, but never thus: Quite spent! Assist me, friends, to bear him off; Our time is short: should his strong rage return, 'Twould be beyond our power to force him hence.

Away, my friends! I hear the portal open.

[Exeunt.

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When thus you turn your impious rage on Pyrrhus;

Pyrrhus, the bravest man in all your league; The man whose single valour made you triumph? [A dead march behind.

Is my child there?-
Ceph. It is the corpse of Pyrrhus.
The weeping soldiers bear him on their shields.
Andr. Ill-fated prince! too negligent of life,

Help to support him.-How he pants for breath! And too unwary of the faithless Greeks!

Cut off in the fresh ripening prime of manhood, Even in the pride of life; thy triumphs new, And all thy glories in full blossom round thee! The very Trojans would bewail thy fate.

Ceph. Alas, then, will your sorrows never end! Andr. Oh, never, never!——While I live, my tears

Will never cease; for I was born to grieve.Give present orders for the funeral pomp: [TO PHOENIX.

Let him be robed in all his regal state; Place round him every shining mark of honour: And let the pile, that consecrates his ashes, Rise like his fame, and blaze above the clouds. [A flourish of trumpets. Ceph That sound proclaims the arrival of the prince;

The guards conduct him from the citadel.
Andr. With open arms I'll meet him!-Oh,
Cephisa!

A springing joy, mixt with a soft concern,
A pleasure which no language can express,
An extacy that mothers only feel,

Plays round my heart, and brightens up my sorrow,

Like gleams of sunshine in a lowering sky.

Though plunged in ills, and exercised in care,
Yet never let the noble mind despair:
When prest by dangers, and beset with foes,
The gods their timely succour interpose;
And when our virtue sinks, o'erwhelmed with

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EPILOGUE.

SPOKEN BY ANDROMACHE.

I hope you'll own, that, with becoming art, I've play'd my game, and topp'd the widow's part.

My spouse, poor man, could not live out the play,

But died commodiously on his wedding-day;
While I, his relict, made, at one bold fling,
Myself a princess, and young Sty a king.

You, ladies, who protract a lover's pain,
And hear your servants sigh whole years in vain,
Which of you all would not on marriage ven-
ture,

Might she so soon upon her jointure enter? 'Twas a strange 'scape! Had Pyrrhus liv'd till

now,

I had been finely hamper'd in my vow.
To die by one's own hand, and йy the charms
Of love and life in a young monarch's arms!
"Twere a hard fate-ere I had undergone it,

I might have took one night-to think upon it.
But why, you'll say, was all this grief exprest
For a first husband, laid long since at rest?
Why so much coldness to my kind protector?
-Ah, ladies! had you known the good man
Hector!

Homer will tell you, (or I'm misinform❜d,)
That when, enrag'd, the Grecian camp he storm'd,
To break the tenfold barriers of the gate,
He threw a stone of such prodigious weight
As no two men could lift, not even those
Who in that age of thund'ring mortals rose;
It would have strain'd a dozen modern beaux.

At length, howe'er, I laid my weeds aside,
And sunk the widow in the well-dress'd bride:
In you it still remains to grace the play,
And bless with joy my coronation day;
Take, then, ye circles of the brave and fair,
The fatherless and widow to your care!

THE

SIEGE OF DAMASCUS.

BY

HUGHES.

PROLOGUE.

OFT has the Muse here tried her magic arts,
To raise your fancies, and engage your hearts.
When o'er this little spot she shakes her wand,
Towns, cities, nations, rise at her command,
And armies march obedient to her call,

By faction weaken'd, and disunion broke,
Degenerate provinces admit the yoke;
Nor stopp'd their progress, till, resistless grown
Th' enthusiasts made Asia's world their own.

Britons, be warn'd; let e'en your pleasures here

New states are form'd, and ancient empires fall. Convey some moral to th' attentive ear.
To vary your instruction and delight,
Past ages roll, renew'd, before your sight.
His awful form the Greek and Roman wears,
Wak'd from his slumber of two thousand years:
And man's whole race, restor❜d to joy and pain,
Act all their little greatness o'er again.

Beware, lest blessings long possest displease;
Nor grow supine with liberty and ease.
Your country's glory be your constant aim,
Her safety all is yours-think your's her fame.
Unite at home-forego intestine jars ;

No common woes to-night we set to view;
Important in the time, the story new.
Our opening scenes shall to your sight disclose
How spiritual dragooning first arose;
Claims drawn from Heaven by a barbarian lord,
And faith first propagated by the sword.
In rocky Araby this post began,

And swiftly o'er the neighbouring country ran:

Then scorn the rumours of religious wars;
Speak loud in thunder from your guarded shores,
And tell the continent the sea is your's.
Speak on-and say, by war, you'll peace maintain,
'Till brightest years, reserv'd for George's reign,
Advance, and shine in their appointed round:
Arts then shall flourish, plenteous joys abound,
And, cheer'd by him, each loyal muse shall sing,
The happiest island, and the greatest king.

MEN.
CHRISTIANS.

EUMENES, governor of Damascus.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

HERBIS, his friend, one of the chiefs of the city. PHOCYAS, a noble and valiant Syrian, privately in love with Eudocia.

ARTAMON, an officer of the guards.

MEN.
SARACENS.

CALED, general of the Saracen army.
ABUDAH, next in command under Caled.
DARAN, a wild Arabian, professing Mahometer
ism for the sake of the spoil.
SERJABIL,

SERGIUS, an Express from the emperor Hera- RAPHAN, &c. } Saracen captains.

clius.

WOMEN.

EUDOCIA, daughter to Eumenes.

Officers, soldiers, citizens and attendants.

Officers, soldiers and attendants.

SCENE, The City of Damascus, in Syria, and the Saracen Camp before it. And, in the las? Act, a Valley adjacent.

SCENE I-The City.

ACT I.

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What will you next?

Eum. I have sent a fresh recruit;

Enter EUMENES, PHOCYAS, ARTAMON, &c. Eum. Brave Phocyas, thanks! Mine and the people's thanks.

[People shout and cry, A Phocyas, &c. Yet, that we may not lose this breathing space, Hang out the flag of truce. You, Artamon, Haste with a trumpet to the Arabian chiefs, And let them know, that, hostages exchanged, I'd meet them now upon the eastern plain. [Exit ARTAMON.

Pho. What means Eumenes?
Eum. Phocyas, I would try
By friendly treaty, if on terms of peace
They will yet withdraw their powers.

Pho. On terms of peace!

What terms can you expect from bands of rob

bers?

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serts,

The valiant Phocyas leads them on-whose deeds Long have they viewed from far, with wishing

In early youth assert his noble race;

A more than common ardour seems to warm
His breast, as if he loved and courted danger.
Herb. I fear 'twill be too late.
Eum. [Aside.] I fear it too:

And though I braved it to the trembling crowd,
I've caught the infection, and I dread the event.
Would I had treated-but 'tis now too late-
Come, Herbis.

[Exeunt. [A noise is heard without, of officers giving orders.

1st Offi. Help there! more help! all to the eastern gate!

2d Offi. Look where they cling aloft, like clustered bees!

Here, archers, ply your bows.

ist Offi. Down with the ladders! What, will you let them mount?

2d Offi. Aloft there! give the signal, you that

wait

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eyes,

Our fruitful vales, our fig-trees, olives, vines,
Our cedars, palms, and all the verdant wealth
That crowns fair Lebanon's aspiring brows.
Here have the locusts pitched, nor will they leave
These tasted sweets, these blooming fields of
plenty,

For barren sands, and native poverty,
Till driven away by force.

Eum. What can we do?

Our people in despair, our soldiers harassed
With daily toil, and constant nightly watch:
Our hopes of succour from the emperor
Uncertain; Eutyches not yet returned,
That went to ask them; one brave army beaten;
The Arabians numerous, cruel, flushed with con-
quest.

Herb. Besides, you know what frenzy fires their minds

Of their new faith, and drives them on to dan

ger.

Eum. True; they pretend the gates of Paradise

Stand ever open, to receive the souls
Of all that die in fighting for their cause.

Pho. Then would I send their souls to Para dise,

And give their bodies to our Syrian eagles.
Our ebb of fortune is not yet so low

Herb. So-the tide turns; Phocyas has driven To leave us desperate. Aids may soon arrive:

it back.

The gate once more is ours.

Mean time, in spite of their late bold attack, The city still is ours; their force repelled,

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