Believe the occasion fair, by this advantage, And in our absence form what force thou canst; SCENE II.-A Plain before the City. A Pros pect of Tents at a distance. Enter CALED, ABUDAH, and DARAN. That only come to traffic with those Syrians, This earth, it seems, has gifts that please him more. Cal. Check not his zeal, Abudah. Yet, I could wish that zeal had better motives. For conquest, not destruction. That obtained, The more we spare, the caliph has more subjects, And Heaven is better served-But see, they come. Enter EUMENES, HERBIS, and ARTAMON. Cal. Well, christians, we are met, and war awhile, At your request, has stilled his angry voice, Eum. We come to know, After so many troops you've lost in vain, Why on your heads you call our pointed arrows, And why see we so many thousand tents mons, When first we marched against you, to sur render. Two moons have wasted since, and now the third You see we are returned; our hearts, our cause, Herb. But why those swords were drawn, And what's the cause, inform us. Eum. Speak your wrongs, If wrongs you have received, and by what means They may be now repaired. Abu. Then, christians, hear! And Heaven inspire you to embrace its truth! Not wrongs to avenge, but to establish right, Our swords were drawn: For such is heaven's command Immutable. By us great Mahomet, Art. [Aside.] So-then, it seems Eum. Now, in the name of Heaven, what faith is this, That stalks gigantic forth thus armed with terrors, As if it meant to ruin, not to save? Herb. Bold, frontless men! that impudently To blend religion with the worst of crimes; And sacrilegiously usurp that name, To cover fraud, and justify oppression ! Eum. Where are your priests? What doctors of your law Have you e'er sent to instruct us in its precepts ? To solve our doubts, and satisfy our reason, And well might claim our thanks. With scorn had been received: your numerous vices, Your clashing sects, your mutual rage and strife, phet Who mildly taught you-Therefore Mahomet now, You tread this ground? Herb. What claim, but that of hunger? The claim of ravenous wolves, that leave their dens, To prowl at midnight round some sleeping village, Or watch the shepherd's folded flock for prey? Cal. Blasphemer, know, your fields and towns are our's; Our prophet has bestow'd them on the faithful, And heaven itself has ratified the grant. Eum. Oh! now indeed you boast a noble What could your prophet grant? a hireling slave! To soothe his pride, and bribe his fellow madmen! Cal. Was it for this you sent to ask a parley, To affront our faith, and to traduce our prophet? Well might we answer you with quick revenge. And tribute is the slavish badge of conquest. Two, Caled, shall be thine; two thine, Abudah. Will soon be ours: look round your Syrian frontiers ! See in how many towns our hoisted flags Have bowed beneath the yoke-behold our march O'er half your land, like flame through fields of harvest. And last view Aiznadin, that vale of blood! There seek the souls of forty thousand Greeks, That, fresh from life, yet hover o'er their bodies. Then think, and then resolve. Herb. Presumptuous men! What though you yet can boast successful guilt, Is conquest only your's? Or dare you hope That you shall still pour on the swelling tide, Like some proud river that has left its banks, Nor ever know repulse? Eum. Have you forgot! Not twice seven years are past since e'en your prophet, Bold as he was, and boasting aid divine, Dost thou bring peace?-Thou dost, and I am happy! Pho. Not yet, Eudocia: 'tis decreed by Heaven I must do more to merit thy esteem. Peace, like a frighted dove, has winged her flight To distant hills, beyond these hostile tents; And through them we must thither force our way, If we would call the lovely wanderer back Eud. False flattering hope! Vanished so soon! alas, my faithful fears soon Be chased, like fiends before the morning light, And all be calm again. Eud. Is the truce ended? Must war, alas! renew its bloody rage, Dismiss thy fears; the lucky hour comes on, more Shall labour with this secret of my passion, And soldiers, kindled into sudden fury, I've caught the flame of thy heroic ardour! And now I see thee crowned with palm and olive; The soldiers bring thee back with songs of triumph, And loud applauding shouts; thy rescued country Resounds thy praise; our emperor Heraclius Pho. The honours and rewards, which thon hast named, Are bribes too little for my vast ambition. My soul is full of thee!Thou art my all Of fame, of triumph, and of future fortune. 'Twas love of thee first sent me forth in arms, My service is all thine, to thee devoted, And thou alone canst make e'en conquest plea: sing. Eud. O, do not wrong thy merit, nor restrain it To narrow bounds; but know, I best am pleased To share thee with thy country. Oh, my Phocyas! With conscious blushes oft I've heard thy vows, And strove to hide, yet more revealed my heart; But 'tis thy virtue justifies my choice, You say, the people-Yes, that very people, That coward tribe that pressed you to surrender! Well may they spurn at lost authority; But that the thought of this great hour's event be it, Must stoop beneath a beardless rising hero; Herb. [Aside.] That, that's my torture. He comes alone !-O friend, thy fears were just. Art. Joy to Eumenes! Dost thou bring news of victory? Phocyas, thou hast done bravely, and 'tis fit cours. Pho. What!to be cooped whole months within our walls? To rust at home, and sicken with inaction? Again the beaten foe may force our gates; This Herbis is a foul old envious knave." And thou shalt see I'll yet be governor. 'Twas even beyond my hopes. Eum. But where is Sergius? Proportioned to thy birth and thy desert. bribed By trash, by sordid gold, to venal virtue? Mess. The letter, fastened to an arrow's head, What! serve my country for the same mean hire, Was shot into the town. Eum. I fear he's taken O Phocyas, Herbis, Artamon! my friends! tance, And fear be now no more. The jolly soldier happy! Well dost thou bid the voice of triumph sound Through all our streets; our city calls thee father; And say, Eumenes, dost thou not perceive Eum. The blessings Heaven bestows are freely sent, And should be freely shared. Pho. True-Generous minds Redoubled feel the pleasures they impart. For me, if I've deserved by arms or counsels, By hazards gladly sought, and greatly prospered, Whate'er I've added to the public stock, With joy I see it in Eumenes' hands, And wish but to receive my share from thee. Eum. I cannot, if I would, withhold thy share. What thou hast done is thine, the fame thy own; And virtuous actions will reward themselves. Pho. Fame-What is that, if courted for herself? Less than a vision; a mere sound, an echo, That calls, with mimic voice, through woods and labyrinths, Her cheated lovers; lost and heard by fits, Virtue indeed is a substantial good, When we have traced, and wooed, and won the That can corrupt each villain to betray her? As for the emperor, if he owns my conduct, Eum. Eudocia! Phocyus, I am yet thy friend, And therefore will not hold thee long in doubt. Thou must not think of her. Nor thanks his host, but starves amidst abundance. Eum. 'Tis well, young man-Why then, I'l learn from thee To be a very tame obedient father. Hast thou not found her a most ready scholar? |