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Eud. What dost thou mean? For now I Now thou shalt see how I will bend my spirit,

know thee, Phocyas.

Pho. And never can be thine!

It will have vent-Oh, barb'rous, curs'd--but hold

I had forgot-It was Eudocia's father!

With what soft patience I will bear my wrongs,
Till I have weary'd out thy father's scorn:
Yet I have worse to tell thee-Eutyches-
Eud. Why wilt thou name him?
Pho. Now, ev'n now he's coming!


Oh, could I too forget how he has us'd me! Just hov'ring o'er thee, like a bird of
Eud. I fear to ask thee.
Pho. Dost thou fear?—Alas,
Then thou wilt pity me. Oh, gen'rous maid!
Thou hast charm'd down the rage that swell'd
my heart,

Thy father vows-for I must tell thee all-
Twas this that wrung my heart, and rack'd
my brain,

And chok'd my voice; now I can speak to thee.
And yet'tis worse than death what I have suffer'd;
It is the death of honour!-Yet that's little;
'Tis more, Eudocia, 'tis the loss of thee!
Eud. Hast thou not conquer'd? What are
all these shouts,

This voice of gen'ral joy, heard far around?
What are these fires, that cast their glimm'ring

Against the sky? Are not all these thy triumphs?
Pho. O name not triumph! Talk no more
of conquest!

It is indeed a night of gen'ral joy;
But not to me! Eudocia, I am come
To take a last farewell of thee for ever.
Eud. A last farewell!

Pho. Yes. How wilt thou hereafter
Look on a wretch despis'd, revil'd, cashier'd,
Stripp'd of command, like a base, beaten coward?
Thy cruel father-I have told too much;
I should not but for this have felt the wounds
I got in fight for him-now, now they bleed!
But I have done-and now thou hast my story,
Is there a creature so accurs'd as Phocyas?

Eud. And can it be? Is this then thy reward?
O Phocyas! never wouldst thou tell me yet
That thou hadst wounds; now I must feel
them too.

For is it not for me thou hast borne this? What else could be thy crime? Wert thou a traitor,

Ev'n to distraction!-vows thee to his bed;
Nay, threaten'd force, if thou refuse obedience.
Eud. Force! threaten'd force!-my father-
where is nature?

Is that too banish'd from his heart?-O then
I have no father-How have I deserv'd this?
No home, but am henceforth an outcast orphan;
For I will wander to earth's utmost bounds,
Ere give my hand to that detested contract.
O save me, Phocyas! thou hast sav'd my father.
Must I yet call him so, this cruel father.
How wilt thou now deliver poor Eudocia?
Pho. See how we're join'd in exile! How
our fate

Conspires to warn us both to leave this city!
Thou know'st the emperor is now at Antioch;
I have an uncle there, who when the Persian,
As now the Saracen, had nigh o'errun
The ravag'd empire, did him signal service,
And nobly was rewarded. There, Eudocia,
Thou might'st be safe, and I may meet with

Eud. There-any where, so we may fly
this place.

See, Phocyas, what thy wrongs and mine have

In a weak woman's frame! for I have courage
To share thy exile now through ev'ry danger.
Danger is only here, and dwells with guilt,
With base ingratitude, and hard oppression.
Ph. Then let us lose no time, but hence
this night.

Hadst thou betray'd us, sold us to the foe-The gates I can command, and will provide
Pho. Would I be yet a traitor, I have leave; The means of our escape. Some five hours hence,
Nay, I am dar'd to it, with mocking scorn. Twill then be turn'd of midnight, we may meet
My crime indeed was asking thee; that only In the piazza of Honoria's convent.
Has cancell'd all, if I had any merit!
The city now is safe, my service slighted,
And I discarded like a useless thing;
Nay, bid be gone-and if I like that better,
Seek out new friends, and join yon barb'rous

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Pho. To my grave.

Where can I bury else this foul disgrace?
Eud. Art thou sure

Thou hast been us'd thus ? art thou quite undone?
Pho. Yes, very sure. What dost thou mean?
Eud. That then it is a time for me-0,
heav'n! that I

Alone am grateful to this wondrous man!
To own thee, Phocyas, thus-[Gives her Hand]|
nay, glory in thee,

And show, without a blush, how much I love.
We must not part!

Pho. Then I am rich again! [Embraces her.
O no, we will not part! Confirm it, heav'n!

Eud. I know it well; the place is most secure,
And near adjoining to this garden wall.
There thou shalt find me.-Oh, protect us, heav'n
Pho. Fear not; thy innocence will be ou

Some pitying angel will attend thy steps,
Guide thee unseen, and charm the sleeping fo
Till thou art safe! Oh, I have suffer'd nothin.
Thus gaining thee, and this great gen'rous proo
How bless'd I am in my Eudocia's love!
My only joy, farewell!

Eud. Farewell, my Phocyas!

I have no friend but thee-yet thee I'll call Friend, father, lover, guardian!-Thou art al [Exeun


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Ser. Oh, spare me yet.
Caled. Thou wretch!-Spare thee? to what?
To live in torture?

Are not thy limbs all bruis'd, thy bones disjointed,
To force thee to confess? And wouldst thou drag,
Like a crush'd serpent, a vile, mangled being?
My eyes abhor a coward-Hence, and die!
Ser. Oh! I have told thee all-When first

I fix'd my letters on an arrow's point,
And shot them o'er the walls.

Caled. Hast thou told all?

Well, then thou shalt have mercy to requite thee:
Behold I'll send thee forward on thy errand.
Strike off his bead; then cast it o'er the gates!
There let thy tongue tell o'er its tale again!
Ser. Ob, bloody Saracens!

Till Mahomet himself there stopp'd their en-

A jav'lin in his hand, and turn'd them back
Upon the foe; they fought again and conquer'd.
Behold how we may
best appease his wrath!
His own example points us out the way.
Abu. Well-be it then resolv'd. Th'indul-
gent hour

Of better fortune is, I hope, at hand.
And yet, since Phocyas has appear'd its champion
How has this city rais'd its drooping head!
As if some charm prevail'd where'er he fought;
Our strength seems wither'd, and our feeble

Forget their wonted triumph-were he absent-
Caled. I would have sought him out in the
last action,

[Exit Sergius, dragged away by To single fight, and put that charm to proof, the Guards.


Caled. Abudah, welcome!

Abu. Oh, Caled, what an evening was the last!
Caled. Name it no more; remembrance
sickens with it,

And therefore sleep is banish'd from this night;
Nor shall to-morrow's sun open his eye
I pon our shame, ere doubly we've redeem'd it.
flave all the captains notice?

Abu. I have walk'd

The rounds to-night, ere the last hour of pray'r,
From tent to tent, and warn'd them to be ready.
What must be done?

Caled. Thou know'st th' important news
Which we have intercepted by this slave,
Of a new army's march. The time now calls,
While these soft Syrians are dissolv'd in riot,
Fool'd with success, and not suspecting danger,
To form a new attack ere break of day;
So, like the wounded leopard, shall we rush
From out our covers on these drowsy hunters,
And seize them, unprepar'd to 'scape our

Had not a foul and sudden mist arose
Ere I arriv'd, to have restor'd the combat.
But let it be 'tis past. We yet may meet,
known whose arm is then the

And 'twill be

Enter DARAN.

Daran. Health to the race of Ismael! and days More prosp'rous than the last - a Christian captive

Is fall'n within my watch, and waits his doom.
Caled. Bring forth the slave.-O thou keen
vulture, death!

Do we then feed thee only thus by morsels!
Whole armies never can suffice thy anger.
[Exit Daran.

Re-enter DARAN, with PHOCYAS.
Whence, and what art thou?-Of Damascus ?

Where didst thou find this dumb and sullen thing,

That seems to lower defiance on our anger? Daran. Marching in circuit, with the horse thou gav'st me,

Abu. Great captain of the armies of the Tobserve the city gates, I saw from far


I know thy mighty and unconquer'd spirit;
Yet hear me, Caled, hear and weigh my doubts,
Our angry prophet frowns upon our vices,
And visits us in blood. Why else did terror,
Inknown before, seize all our stoutest bands?
The angel of destruction was abroad;
The archers of the tribe of Thoal fled,
No long renown'd, or spent their shafts in vain;
The feather'd flights err'd through the boundless

Or the death turn'd on kim that drew the bow!
What can this bode?-Let me speak plainer yet;
Is it to propagate th' unspotted law
We fight? Tis well; it is a noble cause.
But much I fear infection is among us;

boundless lust of rapine guides our troops.
We learn the Christian vices we chastise,
And, tempted with the pleasures of the soil,
More than with distant hopes of paradise,
1 bear may soon-but oh, avert it, heav'n!
Fall ev'n a prey to our own spoils and conquests.
Caled. No-thou mistak'st; thy pious zeal
deceives thee,

Our prophet only chides our sluggard valour.
Thou saw'st how in the vale of Honan once
The troops, as now defeated, fled confus'd
Era to the gates of Mecca's holy city?

Two persons issue forth; the one advanc'd,
And ere he could retreat, my horsemen seiz'd him;
The other was a woman, and had fled,
Upon a signal giv'n at our approach,
And got within the gates. Wouldst thou know


Himself, if he will speak, can best inform thee.
Caled. Have I not seen thy face?
Abu. He hears thee not;
His eyes are fix'd on earth; some deep distress
Is at his heart. This is no common captive.
[Apart to Caled.
Caled. A lion in the toils! We soon shall
tame him.
Still art thou dumb?- Nay, 'tis in vain to cast
Thy gloomy looks so oft around this place,
Or frown upon thy bonds-thou canst not 'scape.

Pho. Then be it so-the worst is past already,
And life is now not worth a moment's pause.
Do you not know me yet? Think of the man
You have most cause to curse, and I am he.
Caled. Ha! Phocyas?

Abu Phocyas!-Mahomet, we thank thee! Now dost thou smile again,

Caled. This is indeed a prize! [Aside. Is it because thou know'st what slaughter'd heaps

There yet unbury'd lie without the camp,

Whose ghosts have all this night, passing the

Call'd from the bridge of death to thee to follow,
That now thou'rt here to answer to their cry?
Howe'er it be, thou know'st thy welcome.
Pho. Yes,

Thou proud, blood-thirsty Arab!—Well I know
What to expect from thee: I know ye all.
How should the author of distress and ruin
Be mov'd to pity? That's a human passion.
No-in your hungry eyes, that look revenge,
I read my doom. Where are your racks,

your tortures?

Nor shall my peaceful sword henceforth be drawn
In fight, nor break its truce with you for ever.
Caled. No-there's one way, a better, and
but one,

To save thyself, and make some reparation
For all the numbers thy bold hand has slain.
Pho. O, name it quickly, and my soul will
bless thee!

Caled. Embrace our faith, and share with
us our fortunes.
Pho. Then I am lost again!

Caled. What! when we offer,
Not freedom only, but to raise thee high,
To greatness, conquest, glory, heav'nly bliss?
Pho. To sink me down to infamy, perdition,
Here and hereafter! Make my name a curse
To present times, to ev'ry future age

Caled. As thou wilt.

I'm ready-lead me to them; I can bear
The worst of ills from you. You're not my friends,
My countrymen.-Yet were you men, I could
Unfold a story-But no more-Eumenes,
Thou hast thy wish, and I am now-a worm! A proverb and a scorn!-take back thy mercy,
Abu. Leader of armies, hear him! for my mind And know I now disdain it.
Presages good accruing to our cause
By this event.
[Apart to Caled.
Caled. I tell thee then thou wrong'st us,
To think our hearts thus steel'd, or our ears deaf
To all that thou may'st utter. Speak, disclose
The secret woes that throb within thy breast.
Now, by the silent hours of night, we'll hear thee,
And mute attention shall await thy words.

Pho. This is not then the palace in Damascus!
If you will hear, then I indeed have wrong'd you.
How can this be?-When he, for whom I've

Fought against you, has yet refus'd to hear me!
You seem surpris'd.-It was ingratitude
That drove me out, an exile, not a foc.
Abu. Is it possible?

Are these thy Christian friends?

Caled. 'Tis well-we thank them:
They help us to subdue themselves-But who
Was the companion of thy flight?-A woman,
So Daran said-

Pho. 'Tis there I am most wretched-
Oh, I am torn from all my soul held dear,
And my life's blood flows out upon the wound!
That woman-'twas for her- How shall I
speak it?

The time's too precious to be wasted longer
In words with thee. Thou know'st thy doom


Abu. Hear me, Caled: grant him some short


Perhaps he will at length accept thy bounty.
Try him, at least.
[Apart to Caled.
Caled. Well-be it so then. Daran,
Guard well thy charge-Thou hast an hour
to live:

If thou art wise, thou may'st prolong that term;
If not-why-Fare thee well, and think of death.
[Exeunt Caled and Abudah. Daran
waits at a distance.

Pho. "Farewell, and think of death!" Was
it not so?

Do murderers then preach morality?—
But how to think of what the living know nol,
And the dead cannot, or else may not tell!-
What art thou, oh, thou great mysterious terror!
The way to thee we know! disease, famine,
Sword, fire, and all thy ever open gates,
That day and night stand ready to receive us.
But what's beyond them? Who will draw
that veil?

Eudocia, ob, farewell!-I'll tell you then, Yet death's not there- No, 'tis a point of time, As fast as these heart-rending sighs will let me: The verge 'twixt mortal and immortal beings. I lov'd the daughter of the proud Eumenes, It mocks our thoughts! On this side all is life; And long in secret woo'd her; not unwelcome And when we have reach'd it, in that very, To her my visits; but I fear'd her father;


Who oft had press'd her to detested nuptials, 'Tis past the thinking of! Oh! if it be
And therefore durst not, till this night of joy,
Avow to him my courtship. Now I thought her
Mine, by a double claim, of mutual vows,
And service yielded at his greatest need:
When, as I mov'd my suit, with sour disdain,
He mock'd my service and forbade my love,
Degraded me from the command I bore,
And with defiance bade me seek the foe.
How has his curse prevail'd! The gen'rous maid
Was won by my distress to leave the city;
And cruel fortune made me thus your prey.
Abu. My soul is mov'd-Thou wert a man,
Oh, prophet!

The pangs, the throes, the agonizing struggles
When soul and body part, sure I have felt it,
And there's no more to fear.

Daran. Suppose I now
Dispatch him?-Right— What need to stay
for orders?

Forgive, if 'tis a crime, a human sorrow
For injur'd worth, though in an enemy! [Aside.
Pho. Now-since you've heard my story,
set me free,

That I may save her yet, dearer than life,
From a tyrannic father's threaten'd force;
Gold, gems, and purple vests, shall pay my


I wish I durst!-Yet what I dare, I'll do.


[Aside Your jewels, Christian-You'll not need these [Searches him Pho. I pray thee, slave, stand off-My soul's too busy To lose a thought on thee.

Re-enter ABudah.

Abu. What's this?-Forbear! Who gave thee leave to use this violence? [Takes the Jewels from Daran, an lays them on a Table. Daran. Deny'd my booty! curses on his hea Was not the founder of our law a robber


Why, 'twas for that I left my country's gods, Where is the man can read heav'n's secret
Menaph and Uzza. Better still be Pagan,
Than starve with a new faith.
Abu. What dost thou mutter?


Daran, withdraw, and better learn thy duty.
[Exit Daran.
Phocyas, perhaps thou know'st me not?
Pho. I know

Thy name, Abudah, and thy office here,
The second in command. What more thou art,
Indeed I cannot tell.

Abu. True; for thou yet

Know'st not I am thy friend.
Pho. Ist possible?-

Thou speak'st me fair.

Abu. What dost thou think of life?

Pho. I think not ofit; death was in my thoughts.

On hard condition, life were but a load,

And I will lay it down.

Abu. Art thou resolv'd?

Why did I conquer in another cause,
Yet now am here?

Abu. I'll tell thee: thy good angel
Has seiz'd thy hand unseen, and snatch'd thee out
From swift destruction: know, ere day shall

Damascus will in blood lament its fall!
We've heard what army is design'd to march
Too late to save her. Now, e'en now, our force
Is just preparing for a fresh assault.
Now too thou might'st revenge thy wrongs-
so Caled

Charg'd me to say, and more-that he invites


Thou know'st the terms -to share with him the conquest.

Pho. Conquest! Revenge!-Hold, let me think-Oh, horror!

Pho. I am, unless thou bring'st me better terms Revenge! Oh, what revenge? Bleed on, my

Than those I have rejected.

Abu. Think again.

Caled by me once more renews that offer.
Pho. Thou say'st thou art my friend: why
dost thou try

To shake the settled temper of my breast?
My soul has just discharg'd her cumb'rous train
Of hopes and fears, prepar'd to take her voyage
To other seats, where she may rest in peace;
And now thou call'st me back, to beat again
The painful road of life-Tempt me no more
To be a wretch, for I despise the offer.

Abu. The gen'ral knows thee brave, and 'tis
for that

He seeks alliance with thy noble virtues.
Pho, He knows me brave!-Why does he
then thus treat me?

No, he believes I am so poor of soul,
That, barely for the privilege to live,

wounds, For thus to be reveng'd, were it not worse Than all that I can suffer?-But, EudociaWhere will she then?-Shield her, ye pitying pow'rs, And let me die in peace!

Abu. Hear me once more, 'Tis all I have to offer; mark me now! Caled has sworn Eudocia shall be safe. Pho. Ha! safe-but how? A wretched captive too?

Abu. He swears she shall be free, she shall
be thine.

Pho. Then I am lost indeed.
Abu. The time draws near, and I must
quickly leave thee;
But first reflect, that in this fatal night
Slaughter and rapine may be loos'd abroad;
And while they roam with unextinguish'd rage,
Should she thou lov'st-(well may'st thou start)
-be made,

I would be bought his slave. But go, tell him
The little space of life, his scorn bequeath'd me,
Was lent in vain, and he may take the forfeit. Perhaps unknown, some barb'rous soldier's prey;
Abu. Why wilt thou wed thyself to misery, Should she then fall a sacrifice to lust,
When our faith courts thee to eternal blessings? Or brutal fury
When truth itself is, like a seraph, come
To loose thy bands? The light divine, whose


Pho. Oh! this pulls my heart-strings! [Falls.
Earth open-save me, save me from that thought.
Abu. Nay, do not plunge thyself in black

Piere'd through the gloom of Hera's sacred cave,
And there illumin'd the great Mahomet,
Arabia's morning star, now shines on thee.
Arise, salute with joy the guest from heav'n,
Follow her steps, and be no more a captive.
Pho. But whither must I follow?-Answer that.
Is she a guest from heav'n? What marks divine, My friend? that's well; but hold—are all friends

Look up, poor wretch, thou art not shipwreck'd
Behold an anchor; am not I thy friend?
Pho. [Rises] Ha! Who, what art thou?

what wonders, vouch her boast-
ed mission?
Abu. What wonders? - Turn thy eye to
Mecca mark

How far from Caaba first, that hallow'd temple,
Her glory dawn'd!—then look how swift its


As when the sun-beams, shooting through a

Drive o'er the meadow's face the flying shades!
Have not the nations bent before our swords,
Like ripen'd corn before the reaper's steel?
Why is all this? Why does success still wait


What's to be done?—Hush, hark! what voice is that?

Abu. There is no voice; 'tis yet the dead
of night;

The guards without keep silent watch around us.
Pho. Again it calls-'tis she-O,lead me to her!
Abu. Thy passion mocks thee with imagin'd

Pho. Sure 'twas Eudocia's voice cry'd out,

What shall I do?-Oh, heav'n!
Abu. Heav'n shows thee what.

Upon our laws, if not to show that heav'n Nay, now it is too late; see Caled comes, With anger on his brow. Quickly withdraw Pho. Dost thou ask why is this?-Oh, why To the next tent, and there —

First sent it forth, and owns it still by conquest?


Pho. [Rises] What do I see?

Damascus! conquest! ruin! rapes and murder! Then, as with fresh recover'd force, cry'd out, Villains! Is there no more?-Oh, save her, "Renounce my faith! Never."-I answer'd, "No, That now he should not do it."

save her!

[Exeunt Phocyas and Abudah.

Re-enter CALED and Daran.

Caled. Low?

Abu. Yet hear;

For since I saw him now so lost in passion,

Daran. Behold, on thy approach, they shift That must be left to his more temp'rate thoughts.

their ground.

Caled. 'Tis as thou say'st; he tiles

my mercy.

Mean time I urg'd,conjur'd,at last constrain'd him, with By all he held most dear, nay, by the voice Of Providence, that call'd him now to save, With her he lov'd, perhaps the lives of thousands, No longer to resist his better fate,

Daran. Speak, shall I fetch his head? Caled. No, stay you here, I cannot spare thee yet. Raphan, go thou. [To an Officer. But hold-I've thought again he shall not die. Go, tell him he shall live till he has seen Damascus sink in flames, till he behold That slave, that woman idol he adores, Or giv'n a prize to some brave Mussulman, Or slain before his face; then if he sue For death, as for a boon, perhaps we'll grant it. [Exit Raphan. Daran. The captains wait thy orders. Caled. Are the troops

Ready to march?

Daran. They are.

Caled. Mourn, thou haughty city! The bow is bent, nor canst thou scape thy doom. Who turns his back henceforth, our prophet curse him!

Daran. But who commands the trusty bands of Mecca?

Thou know'st their leader fell in the last fight. Caled. 'Tis true; thou, Daran, well deserv'st that charge;

I've mark'd what a keen hatred, like my own, Dwells in thy breast against these Christian dogs. Daran. Thou dost me right.

Caled. And therefore I'll reward it. Be that command now thine. And here, this sabre, Bless'd in the field by Mahomet himself, At Caabar's prosp'rous fight, shall aid thy arm. Daran. Thanks, my good chief; with this I'll better thank thee. [Takes the Scimitar. Caled. Myself will lead the troops of the black standard,

And at the eastern gate begin the storm.

But join his arms in present action with us,
And swear he would be faithful,

Caled. What, no more?
Then he's a Christian still!

Abu. Have patience yet;

For if by him we can surprise the city—
Caled. Say'st thou?

Abu. Hear what's agreed; but on the terms That ev'ry unresisting life be spar'd.

I shall command some chosen, faithful bands; Phocyas will guide us to the gate, from whence He late escap'd; nor do we doubt but there With ease to gain admittance,

Caled. This is something.

And yet I do not like this half ally.
Is he not still a Christian?-But no matter-
Mean time I will attack the eastern gate:
Who first succeeds gives entrance to the rest.
Hear all!-Prepare ye now for boldest deeds,
And know, the prophet will reward your valour.
Think that we all to certain triumph move;
Who falls in fight yet meets the prize above.
There, in the gardens of eternal spring,
While birds of Paradise around you sing,
Each, with his blooming beauty by his side,
Shall drink rich wines, that in full rivers glide;
Breathe fragrant gales o'er fields of spice that

And gather fruits immortal as they grow;
Ecstatic bliss shall your whole pow'rs employ,
And ev'ry sense be lost in ev'ry joy. [Exeunt.


SCENE I.—A great Square in the City before the Governor's Palace.

Daran. But why do we not move? 'twill Enter ABUDAH, Saracen Captains and Sol

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diers; with EUMENES, HERBIS, and other Christians, unarmed.

Eum. It must be so-farewell, devoted walls! To be surprised thus!-Hell, and all ye fiends, How did ye watch this minute for destruction! Her. We've been betray'd by riot and debauchi. Curse on the traitor guard.

Eum. The guard above,

Did that sleep too?

Abu. Christians, complain no more, What you have ask'd is granted. Are ye men, And dare ye question thus, with bold impatience. Eternal justice?-Know, the doom from heaven Falls on your towers, resistless as the bolt That fires the cedars on your mountain tops. Be meek, and learn with humble awe to bear The mitigated ruin. Worse had follow'd, Had ye oppos'd our numbers. Now you're safe Quarter and liberty are giv'n to all; And little do ye think how much yẹ owe To one brave enemy, whom yet ye know Enter ARTAMON, hastily. Art. All's lost!-Ha!-Who are these ?


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