Perceive it, and pour on such crowds, they blunt To leave us desperate. Aids may soon arrive; Our weapons, and have drain'd our stores of Mean time, in spite of their late bold attack,

death.

What will you next?

Eum. I've sent a fresh recruit.

The valiant Phocyas leads them on- whose deeds,

In early youth, assert his noble race;

A more than common ardour seems to warm
His breast, as if he lov'd and courted danger.
Her. I fear 'twill be too late.
Eum. I fear it too:

The city still is ours; their force repell'd,
And therefore weaker: proud of this success,
Our soldiers too have gain'd redoubled courage,
And long to meet them on the open plain.
What hinders then but we repay this outrage,
And sally on their camp?

Eum. No-let us first

Believe th' occasion fair, by this advantage,
To purchase their retreat on easy terms:
That failing, we the better stand acquitted
To our own citizens. However, brave Phocyas,
Cherish this ardour in the soldiery,

And though I brav'd it to the trembling crowd,
I've caught th' infection, and I dread th'event.
Would I had treated!-but 'tis now too late. And in our absence form what force thou canst;
[Aside. Then if these hungry bloodhounds of the war
Come, Herbis.
[Exeunt. Should still be deaf to peace, at our return
Our widen'd gates shall pour a sudden flood
Re-enter HERBIS.
Of vengeance on them, and chastise their scorn.
[Exeunt.

A great Shout. Her. So-the tide turns; Phocyas has driv'n it back.

The gate once more is ours.

Flourish. Re-enter EUMENES, with PHOCYAS,
ARTAMON, etc.

Eum. Brave Phocyas, thanks! mine and the
people's thanks.

Yet, that we may not lose this breathing space,
Hang out the flag of truce. You, Artamon,
Haste with a trumpet to th' Arabian chiefs,
And let them know, that, hostages exchang'd,
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'll yet withdraw their pow'rs.
Pho. On terms of peace!

What peace can you expect from bands

robbers?

of

What terms from slaves but slavery? -You know
These wretches fight not at the call of honour,
That sets the princes of the world in arms.
Base-born, and starv'd, amidst their stony deserts,
Long have they view'd from far, with wishing

eyes,

SCENE II-A Plain before the City. A Pros-
pect of Tents at a distance.
Enter CALED, ABUDAH, and Daran.
Daran. To treat, my chiefs!-What! are
we merchants then,
That only come to traffic with those Syrians,
And poorly cheapen conquest on conditions?
No: we were sent to fight the caliph's battles,
Till every iron neck bend to obedience.
Another storm makes this proud city ours;
What need we treat?-I am for war and plunder.
Caled. Why, so am I; and but to save the
lives

Of mussulmans, not Christians, I would treat.
I hate these Christian dogs; and 'tis our task,
As thou observ'st, to fight; our law enjoins it:
Heaven, too, is promis'd only to the valiant.
Oft has our prophet said, the happy plains
Above lie stretch'd beneath the blaze of swords.
Abu. Yet Daran's loath to trust that heaven
for pay;

This earth, it seems, has gifts that please him

more.

Caled. Check not his zeal, Abudah.
Abu. No; I praise it.

Our fruitful vales, and all the verdant wealth Yet I could wish that zeal had better motives. That crowns fair Lebanon's aspiring brows. Has victory no fruits but blood and plunder? Here have the locusts pitch'd, nor will they leave That we were sent to fight, 'tis true; but These tasted sweets, these blooming fields of

plenty,

For barren sands and native poverty,
Till driv'n away by force.

Eum. What can we do?

Our people in despair; our soldiers harrass'd
With daily toil and constant nightly watch;
Our hopes of succour from the emperor
Uncertain; Eutyches not yet return'd,

wherefore?

For conquest, not destruction. That obtain'd,
The more we spare, the caliph has more subjects,
And heaven is better serv'd.-But see, they come!
[Trumpets.

Enter EUMENES, HERBIS, and ARTAMON.
Caled. Well, Christians, we are met-and
war awhile,

That went to ask them; one brave army beaten; At your request, has still'd his angry voice, Th' Arabians num'rous, cruel, flush'd with To hear what you will purpose.

conquest.

Her. Besides, you know what frenzy fires their minds,

Of their new faith, and drives them on to

danger.

Eum. We come to know,
After so many troops you've lost in vain,
If you'll draw off in peace, and save the rest?
Her. Or rather to know first- for yet we
know not-

Eum. True:-they pretend the gates of Why on your heads you call our pointed

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

When first we march'd against you, to surrender.
Two moons have wasted since, and now the third
Is in its wane. 'Tis true, drawn off awhile,
At Aiznadin we met and fought the
powers
Sent by your emperor to raise our siege.
Vainly you thought us gone; we gain'd a con-
quest.

You see we are return'd; our hearts, our cause,
Our swords the same.

Her. But why those swords were drawn,
And what's the cause, inform us?

Eum. Speak your wrongs,

Caled. Blasphemer, know, your fields and

towns are ours;

Our prophet has bestow'd them on the faithful,
And heaven itself has ratified the grant.

Eum. Oh! now indeed you boast a noble title!
What could your prophet grant? a hireling slave!
Not e'en the mules and camels which he drove,
Were his to give; and yet the bold impostor
Has canton'd out the kingdoms of the earth,
In frantic fits of visionary power,
To sooth his pride, and bribe his fellow madmen!
Caled. Was is for this you sent to ask a parley,

If wrongs you have receiv'd, and by what means T" affront our faith, and to traduce our prophet?
They may be now repair'd.

Abu. Then, Christians, hear,
And heaven inspire you to embrace its truth!
Not wrongs t' avenge, but to establish right,
Our swords were drawn: for such is heaven's
command

Immutable. By us great Mahomet,
And his successor, holy Abubeker,
Invite you to the faith.

Eum. Now, in the name of heaven,
faith is this,

what

That stalks gigantic forth thus arm'd with terrors,
As if it meant to ruin, not to save;
That leads embattled legions to the field,
And marks its progress out with blood and
slaughter?

Her. Bold, frontless men! that impudently dare
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 doc-
tors of your law

Have you e'er sent t' instruct us in its precepts,
To solve our doubts, and satisfy our reason,
And kindly lead us through the wilds of error,
To these new tracts of truth?-This would be
friendship,

And well might claim our thanks.
Caled. Friendship like this
With scorn had been receiv'd: your
ous vices,

Well might we answer you with quick revenge
For such indignities-Yet hear, once more,
Hear this, our last demand; and, this accepted,
We yet withdraw our war. Be Christians still;
But swear to live with us in firm alliance,
To yield us aid, and pay us annual tribute.
Eum. No: should we grant you aid, we
must be rebels;

And tribute is the slavish badge of conquest.
Yet since, on just and honourable terms,
We ask but for our own-Ten silken vests,
Weighty with pearls and gems, we'll send your
caliph ;

Two, Caled, shall be thine; two thine, Abudab.
To each inferior captain we decree
A turban spun from our Damascus flax,
White as the snows of heaven; to every soldier
A scymitar. This, and' of solid gold
Ten ingots, be the price to buy your absence.
Caled. This, and much more, even all your
shining wealth,

Will soon be ours. 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.

Her. Presumptuous men!
numer-What though you yet can boast successful guilt,
Is conquest only yours? 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?.

Your clashing sects, your mutual rage and strife,
Have driven religion, and her angel guards,
Like outcasts from among you. In her stead,
Usurping superstition bears the sway,
And reigns in mimic state, midst idol shows,
And pageantry of power. Who does not mark
Your lives, rebellious to your own great prophet,
Who mildly taught you?-Therefore Mahomet
Has brought the sword, to govern you by force.
Eum. O, solemn truths! though from an
impious tongue! [Aside.
That we're unworthy of our holy faith,
To heaven, with grief and conscious shame,

we own.

But what are you that thus arraign our vices,
And consecrate your own?

Are you not sons of rapine, foes to peace,
Base robbers, murderers?

Caled. Christians, no,
Eum. Then say,

Eum. Have you forgot!

Not twice seven years are past, since e'en your
prophet,

Bold as he was, and boasting aid divine,
Was by the tribe of Corish forc'd to fly,
Poorly to fly, to save his wretched life,
From Mecca to Medina?

Abu. No-forgot!

We well remember how Medina screen'd
That holy head, preserv'd for better days,
And ripening years of glory.

Daran. Why, my chiefs,

Will you waste time, in offering terms despis
To these idolaters?-VVords are but air,
Blows would plead better.

Caled. Daran, thou say'st true.
Christians, here end our truce.

more

The sword of heaven is drawn!
sheath'd,

Why have you ravag'd all our peaceful borders?
Plunder'd our towns? and by what claim, e'en
You tread this ground?
Her. What claim, but that of hunger? But in the bowels of Damascus.
The claim of ravenous wolves, that leave their Eum. That,

dens

[now,

To prowl at midnight round some sleeping village,
Or watch the shepherd's folded flock for prey?|

Behold, on

nor shall

SCENE III-A Garden.

Enter EUDOCIA.

Eud. All's bush'd around! - No more the
shout of soldiers,

And clash of arms, tumultuous, fill the air.
Methinks this interval of terror seems
Like that, when the loud thunder just has roll'd
O'er our affrighted heads, and, in the heavens,
A momentary silence but prepares
A second and a louder clap to follow.

Enter PHOCYAS.

O no-my hero comes with better omens,

And pillars rise of monumental brass,
Inscrib'd-"To Phocyas, the deliverer."
Pho. The honours and rewards, which thou
hast nam'd,

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
pleasing.

Eud. O, do not wrong thy merit, nor re-
strain it

To narrow bounds; but know, I best am pleas'd And every gloomy thought is now no more. To share thee with thy country. Oh, my Phocyas! Pho. Where is the treasure of my soul?-With conscious blushes oft I've heard thy vows,

Eudocia,

Behold me here impatient, like the miser,
That often steals in secret to his gold,
And counts, with trembling joy and jealous
transport,

The shining heaps which he still fears to lose.
Eud. Welcome, thou brave, thou best de-
serving lover!

How do I doubly share the common safety,
Since 'tis a debt to thee!-But tell
me, Phocyas,
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 wing'd 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
To her forsaken home.

Eud. False, flattering hope!

Vanish'd so soon!-alas, my faithful fears
Return and tell me we must still be wretched!
Pho. Not so, my fair; if thou but gently smile,
Inspiring valour, and presaging conquest,
These barbarous foes to peace and love shall soon
Be chas'd, like fiends, before the morning light,
And all be calm again,

Eud. Is the truce ended?

Must war,

alas! renew its bloody rage, And Phocyas ever be expos'd to danger? Pho. Think for whose sake danger itself

has charms.

Dismiss thy fears: the lucky hour comes on
Full fraught with joys, when my big soul no more
Stall labour with this secret of my passion,
To hide it from thy jealous father's eyes.
Just now, by signals from the plain, I've learn'd
That the proud foe refuse us terms of honour;
A sally is resolv'd; the citizens

And soldiers, kindled into sudden fury,
Press all in crowds, and beg I'll lead them on.
O, my Eudocia! if I now succeed-
Did I say, if?-I must, I will; the cause
Is love, 'tis liberty, it is Eudocia!-
What then shall hinder,

But I may boldly ask thee of Eumenes,
Nor fear a rival's more prevailing claim?
Eud. May blessings still attend thy arms!—

Methinks

I've caught the flame of thy heroic ardour;
And now I see thee crown'd with palm and olive;
The soldiers bring thee back, with songs of
triumph,

And strove to hide, yet more reveal'd my heart;
But 'tis thy virtue justifies my choice,
And what at first was weakness, now is glory.
Pho. Forgive me, thou fair pattern of all
goodness,

If, in the transport of unbounded passion,
I still am lost to every thought but thee.
Yet sure to love thee thus is every virtue;
Nor need I more perfection.-Hark! I'm call'd.
[Trumpet sounds.

Eud. Then go-and heaven with all its an-
gels guard thee.

Pho. Farewell!-for thee once more I draw the sword.

Now to the field, to gain the glorious prize; 'Tis victory-the word-Eudocia's eyes!

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I. The Governor's Palace.

Enter EUMENES and HERBIS.

Her. Still I must say 'twas wrong, 'twas wrong, Eumenes; And mark th' event!

Eum. What could I less? You saw 'Twas vain t'oppose it, whilst his eager valour, Impatient of restraint

Her. His eager valour!

His rashness, his hot youth, his valour's fever!
Must we, whose business 'tis to keep our walls,
And manage warily our little strength;
Must we at once lavish away our blood,
Because his pulse beats high, and his mad courage
Wants to be breath'd in some new enterprize?-
You should not have consented.

Eur. You forget.

'Twas not my voice alone, you saw the people
(And sure such sudden instincts are from heaven!)
Rose all at once to follow him, as if
One soul inspir'd them, and that soul was
Phocyas'.

Her. I had indeed forgot, and ask your
pardon.

I took you for Eumenes, and I thought
That, in Damascus, you had chief command.
Eum. What dost thou mean?
Her. Nay, who's forgetful now?
You say, the people-Yes, that very people,
That coward tribe that press'd you to surrender!
Well may they spurn at lost authority;
Whom they like better, better they'll obey.
Eum. OI could curse the giddy changeful
slaves,

And loud applauding shouts; thy rescu'd country
Resounds thy praise; our emperor, Heraclius, But that the thought of this hour's great event
Possesses all my soul.-If we are beaten!-

Decrees thee honours for a city sav'd;

him more.

Her. The poison works; 'tis well-I'll give How shall thy country pay the debt she owes thee? [Aside. Pho. By taking this as earnest of a debt True, if we're beaten, who shall answer that? Which I owe her, and fain would better pay. Shall you, or I?—Are you the governor? Her. In spite of envy I must praise him too. Or say we conquer, whose is then the praise? Eum. I know thy friendly fears; that thou and I

Must stoop beneath a beardless, rising hero!
And in Heraclius' court it shall be said,
Damascus, nay, perhaps the empire too,
Ow'd its deliverance to a boy.-Why be it,
So that he now return with victory;
Tis honour greatly won, and let him wear it.
Yet I could wish I needed less his service.
Were Eutyches returned-

Her. That, that's my torture. [Aside.
I sent my son to the emperor's court, in hopes
His merit at this time might raise his fortunes;
But Phocyas-curse upon his froward virtues!
Is reaping all this field of fame alone,
Or leaves him scarce the gleanings of a harvest.
Eum. See Artamon, with hasty strides re-
turning.

He comes alone! Oh! friend, thy fears were just.
What are we now, and what is lost Damascus?
Enter ARTAMON.

Is set in blood, and from the western skies
Has seen three thousand slaughter'd Arabs fall.
Her. Is Phocyas safe?

Art. He is, and crown'd with triumph.
Her. My fears indeed were just.
[Aside. Shout, Flourish.
Eum. What noise is that?
Her. The people worshipping their new di-
vinity:

Shortly they'll build him temples.

Eum. Tell us, soldier,

[Aside.
Phocyas, thou hast done bravely, and 'tis fit
Successful virtue take a time to rest.
Fortune is fickle, and may change: besides,
What shall we gain, if from a mighty ocean
By sluices we draw off some little streams?
If thousands fall, ten thousands more remain.
Nor ought we hazard worth so great as thine,
Against such odds. Suffice what's done already:
And let us now, in hopes of better days,
Keep wary watch, and wait th' expected succours.
Pho. What!-to be coop'd whole months
within our walls?

To rust at home, and sicken with inaction?
The courage of our men will droop and die,
If not kept up by daily exercise.
Again the beaten foe may force our gates;
And victory, if slighted thus, take wing,
And fly where she may find a better welcome.
Eum. Urge him no more:-
I'll think of thy late warning;
And thou shalt see I'll yet be governor.
[Aside to Her.

Enter a Messenger, with a Letter.
Pho. [Looking on it] Tis to Eumenes.
Eum. Ha! from Eutyches.
[Reads] The emperor, awaken'd with the
danger

That threatens his dominions, and the loss
At Aiznadin, has drain'd his garrisons
To raise a second army. In a few hours
We will begin our march. Sergius brings this,
And will inform you further.-

[Aside.

Her. Heaven, I thank thee!
'Twas even beyond my hopes.
Eum. But where is Sergius?
Mes. The letter, fastened to an arrow's head,

Since thou hast shar'd the glory of this action, Whas shot into the town.

Tell us how it began.

Art. At first the foe

Seem'd much surpris'd; but taking soon the

alarm,

Gather'd some hasty troops, and march'd

meet us.

to

Eum. I fear he's taken.

O Phocyas, Herbis, Artamon! my friends!
You all are sharers in this news; the storm
Is blowing o'er that hung like night upon us,
And threaten'd deadly ruin. - Ilaste, proclaim
The welcome tidings loud through all the city.
Let sparkling lights be seen from every turret,
To tell your joy, and spread their blaze to heaven.
Prepare for feasts; danger shall wait at distance,
And fear be now no more. The jolly soldier
And citizen shall meet o'er their full bowls,
Forget their toils, and laugh their cares away
And mirth and triumphs close this happy day
[Exeuni Herbis and Artamon
Pho. And may succeeding days prove ye
more happy!

The captain of these bands look'd wild and fierce,
His head unarm'd, as if in scorn of danger,
And naked to the waist; as he drew near,
He rais'd his arm, and shook a pond'rous lance:
When all at once, as at a signal given,
We heard the tecbir, so these Arabs call
Their shouts of onset, when with loud appeal
They challenge heaven, as if demanding conquest.
The battle join'd, and through the barbarous host
"Fight, fight, and paradise," was all the cry.
At last our leaders met; and gallant Phocyas-Well dost thou bid the voice of triumph soun
But what are words, to tell the mighty wonders Through all our streets; our city calls thee father
We saw him then perform? — Their chief un- And say, Eumenes, dost thou not perceive
A father's transport rise within thy breast,
Whilst in this act thou art the hand of heaven
To deal forth blessings, and distribute joy?
Eum. The blessings heaven bestows
freely sent,

hors'd,

The Saracens soon broke their ranks, and fled;
And had not a thick evening fog arose,
The slaughter had been double. But, behold,

The hero comes!

Enter PHOCYAS, EUMENES meeting him.
Eum. Joy to brave Phocyas!
Eumenes gives him back the joy he sent.
The welcome news has reach'd this place be-

fore thee.

And should be freely shar'd.

ar

Pho. True-Generous minds
Redoubled feel the pleasure they impart.
For me, if I've deserv'd by arms or counsel
By hazards, gladly sought and greatly prosper

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,

Thou hast already taught my child her duty.
I find the source of all her disobedience,
Her hate of me, her scorn of Eutyches.
Was this the spring of thy romantic bravery,
Thy boastful merit, thy officious service?
Pho. It was-with pride I own it-'twas
Eudocia.

I

have serv'd thee in serving her; thou know'st it. Why wilt thou force me thus to be a braggart, And tell thee that which thou shouldst tell thyself? It grates my soul-I am not wont to talk thus. But I recall my words-I have done nothing, And would disclaim all merit, but my love. Eum. Oh, no-say on, that thou hast sav'd Damascus ;

Her cheated lovers; lost and heard by fits,
But never fix'd. a seeming nymph, yet nothing.
Virtue indeed is a substantial good,
A real beauty; yet with weary steps,
Through rugged ways, by long, laborious service, Is it not so?-Look o'er her battlements,
When we have trac'd, and woo'd, and won See if the flying foe have left their camp!
Why are our gates yet clos'd, if thou hast
freed us?

the dame,

May we not then expect the dower she brings?
Éum. Well-ask that dowry; say, can Ďa- 'Tis true thou'st fought a skirmish
mascus pay it?

that?

Her riches shall be tax'd; name but the sum, Had Eutyches been present-
Her merchants with some costly gems shall
grace thee;

Nor can Heraclius fail to grant thee honours,
Proportion'd to thy birth and thy desert.
Pho. And can Eumenes think I would be
brib'd

By trash, by sordid gold, to venal virtue?
What serve my country for the same mean hire,
That can corrupt each villain to betray her?
Why is she sav'd from these Arabian spoilers,
If to be stripp'd by her own sons?--Forgive me
If the thought glows on my cheeks! I know
Twas menton'd but to prove how much I scorn it.
Yes, Eumenes,

I bave ambition-yet the vast reward
That swells my hopes, and equals all my wishes,
Is in by gift alone-It is Eudocia.

Eum. Eudocia! Phocyas, I am yet thy friend,
And therefore will not hold thee long in doubt.
Ibou must not think of her.

Pho. Not think of her!
Impossible.-She's ever present to me!
My lite, my soul! She animates my being,
And kindles up my thoughts to worthy actions.
And why, Eumenes, why not think of her?
la not my rank—

Lam. Forbear-What need a herald,
To tell me who thou art?—Yet once again —
Since thou wilt force me to a repetition,
I say, thou must not think of her.
My choice has destin'd her to Eutyches!

Pho. And has she then consented to that

choice?

Pho. Eutyches!

Why wilt thou urge my temper with that trifler?.
Oh, let him come! that in yon spacious plain
We may together charge the thickest ranks,
Rush on to battle, wounds, and glorious death,
And prove who 'twas that best deserv'd Eudocia.
Eum. That will be seen ere long.-But since
I find

Thou arrogantly wouldst usurp dominion,
Believ'st thyself the guardian genius here,
And that our fortunes hang upon thy sword;
Be that first try'd for know, that from this
moment,
Thou here hast no command. Farewell!-So
stay,

Or hence and join the foe; thou hast thy
choice.
[Exú.
Pho. Spurn'd and degraded! Proud, un-
grateful man !

Am I a bubble then, blown up by thee,
And toss'd into the air, to make thee sport?
Hence to the foe! 'Tis well-Eudocia,

Oh, I will see thee, thou wrong'd excellence!
But how to speak thy wrongs, or my disgrace-
Impossible! Oh, rather let me walk,

Like a dumb ghost, and burst my heart in
silence.
[Exit.

SCENE II.-The Garden.

Enter EUDOCIA.

Eud. Why must we meet by stealth, like guilty lovers?

But 'twill not long be so. What joy 'twill be Eum. Has she consented?—What is her To own my hero in his ripen'd honours,

laste not mine?

consent?

Pho. She is-and in that title,

Esa kings with envy may behold thy wealth,
And think their kingdoms poor!-And yet,
Eumenes,

1 Stall she, by being thine, be barr'd a privilege
Which ev'n the meanest of her sex may claim?
Thou wilt not force her?

Eum. Who has told thee so?

Id force her to be happy.
Pho. That thou canst not.

What happiness subsists in loss of freedom?
Eum. Tis well, young man-Why then I'll
learn from thee

: To be a very tame, obedient father.

And hear applauding crowds pronounce me
bless'd!

Sure he'll be here. See the fair rising moon,
Ere day's remaining twilight scarce is spent,
Hangs up her ready lamp, and with mild lustre
Drives back the hov'ring shade! Come, Pho-
cyas, come;

This gentle season is a friend to love;
And now methinks I could with equal passion,
Meet thine, and tell thee all my secret soul.
Enter PHOCYAS.