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Scene,-The City of Damascus, in Syria, and the Saracen Camp before it. And, in the last Act, a Valley adjacent.

SCENE I.-The City.


Enter EUMENES, followed by a crowd of people.
Eum. I'll hear no more. Begone!
Or stop your clamorous mouths, that still are open
To bawl sedition, and consume our corn.
If you will follow me, send home your women,
And follow to the walls; there earn your safety,
As brave men should. Pity your wives and chil-

Yes, I do pity them, Heaven knows I do,
Even more than you; nor will I yield them up,
Though at your own request, a prey to ruffians-
Herbis, what news?


Herb. News! we are betrayed, deserted; The works are but half-manned; the Saracens

Perceive it, and pour on such crowds, they blunt
Our weapons, and have drained our stores of
What will you next?

Eum, I have 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 loved and courted danger.
Herb. I fear it will be too late.
Eum. [Aside.] I fear it too:

And though I braved it to the trembling crowd, I have caught the infection, and I dread the


Would I had treated-but 'tis now too lateCome, Herbis. [Exeunt. [A noise is heard without, of officers giving orders.

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

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

Here, archers, ply your bows.

1st Offi. Down with the ladders!

What, will you let them mount?

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 Paradise,
And give their bodies to our Syrian eagles.
Our ebb of fortune is not yet so low
To leave us desperate. Aids may soon arrive;

2d Offi. Aloft there! give the signal, you that Mean time, in spite of their late bold attack,

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The city still is ours; their force repelled,
And therefore weaker; proud of this success,
Our soldiers too have gained 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 the occasion fair, by this advantage, To purchase their retreat on easy terms:

Herb. So the tide turns; Phocyas has driven That failing, we the better stand acquitted

it back.

The gate once more is ours.

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 would 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 robbers!
What terms from slaves, but slavery? You know
These wretches fight not at the call of honour;
For injured rights, or birth, or jealous greatness,
That sets the princes of the world in arms.
Base-born, and starved amidst their stoney deserts,
Long have they viewed from far, with wishing 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

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To our own citizens. However, brave Phocyas,
Cherish this ardour in the soldiery,
And in our absence form what force thou canst;
Then if these hungry bloodhounds of the war
Should still be deaf to peace, at our return
Our widened gates shall pour a sudden flood
Of vengeance on them, and chastise their scorn.

SCENE II-A Plain before the City. A Prospect of Tents at a distance.

Enter CALED, ABUDAH, and DARAN. Dar. 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.

Cal. Why, so am I-and but to save the lives
Of mussulmans, not christians, I would not treat.
I hate these christian dogs; and 'tis our task,
As thou observest, to fight; our law enjoins it:
Heaven, too, is promised only to the valiant.
Oft has our prophet said, the happy plains
Above lie stretched beneath the blaze of swords.
Abu. Yet, Daran's loth to trust that heaven

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At your request, has stilled his angry voice,
To hear what you will propose.

Eum. We come to know,

After so many troops you have lost in vain,
If you will draw off in peace, and save the rest.
Herb. Or rather to know first-for yet we
know not-

Why on your heads you call our pointed arrows,
In our own just defence? What means this visit?
And why see we so many thousand tents
Rise in the air, and whiten all our fields?

Cal. Is that a question now? you had our sum


When first we marched against you, to surrender.
Two moons have wasted since, and now the third
Is in it's 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 gained a con-

You see we are returned; our hearts, our cause,
Our swords the same.

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


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

Art. [Aside.] So-then, it seems

There is no harm meant; we are only to be beaten
Into a new religion-If that's all,

I find I am already half a convert.

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?

That leads embattled legions to the field,
And marks its progress out with blood and

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 kindly lead us through the wilds of error
To these new tracts of trath-This would be

And well might claim our thanks.

Cal. Friendship like this

Your clashing sects, your mutual rage and strife,
Have driven religion and her angel guards,
Like out-casts, 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 pro-

Who mildly taught you-Therefore Mahomet
Has brought the sword to govern you by force,
Nor will accept obedience so precarious.

Eum. O solemn truths! though from an im-
pious tongue!

That we're unworthy of our holy faith,
To Heaven, with grief and conscious shame, we

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Our prophet has bestowed 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 even the mules and camels, which he drove,
Were his to give; and yet the bold impostor
Has cantoned out the kingdoms of the earth,
In frantic fits of visionary power,

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.
Nor 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 own-Ten silken vests,
Weighty with pearl and gems, we'll send your ca-

Two, Caled, shall be thine; two thine, Abudah.
To each inferior captain we decree

With scorn had been received: your numerous A turban spun from our Damascus flax,


White as the snows of heaven; to every soldier

A scimitar. This, and of solid gold
Ten ingots, be the price to buy your absence.
Cal. This, and much more, even all your shi-
ning wealth,

Will soon be ours: look round your Syrian frontiers!

See in how many towns our hoisted flags
Are waving in the wind; Sachna, and Hawran,
Proud Tadmor, Aracah, and stubborn Bosra
Have bowed beneath the yoke-behold our march
O'er half your land, like flame through fields of

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,
Was by the tribe of Corish forced to fly,
Poorly to fly, to save his wretched life,
From Mecca to Medina.

Abu. No-forgot!

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Pho. Where is the treasure of my soul!-

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

The shining heaps which he still fears to lose. Eud. Welcome, thou brave, thou best deserving 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

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
To her forsaken home.

Eud. False flattering hope!

Vanished 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 chased, 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 exposed to danger?

Pho. Think for whose sake danger itself has


Dismiss thy fears; the lucky hour comes on,
Full fraught with joys, when my big soul no more
Shall 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 learned
That the proud foe refuse us terms of honour;
A sally is resolved; the citizens

And soldiers, kindled into sudden fury,
Press all in crowds, and beg I'll lead them on.
Oh, 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, since our mutual faith
Is pledged, and thou consenting to my bliss,
But I may boldly ask thee of Eumenes,
Nor fear a rival's more prevailing claim?

Eud. May blessings still attend thy arms!--

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
Decrees thee honours for a city saved,
And pillars rise, of monumental brass,
Inscribed To Phocyas the deliverer.

Pho. The honours and rewards, which thou hast named,

Are bribes too little for my vast ambition.

3 B

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SCENE I.-The Governor's Palace.


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,

Herb. STILL I must say, 'twas wrong, 'twas Damascus, nay perhaps the empire too,

wrong, Eumenes,

And mark the event!

Eum. What could I less? You saw

'Twas vain to oppose it, whilst his eager valour, Impatient of restraint

Herb. His eager valour!

His rashness, his hot youth, his valour's fever!
Must we, whose business is 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 cou-

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Rose all at once to follow him, as if

One soul inspired them, and that soul was Phocyas'.

Herb. 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?

Herb. Nay, who's forgetful now?
You say, the people-Yes, that very people,
That coward tribe that pressed you to surrender!
Well may they spurn at lost authority;
Whom they like better, better they'll obey.

Eum. I could curse the giddy changeful slaves,

But that the thought of this great hour's event
Possesses all my soul.If we are beaten!-
Herb. The poison works; 'tis well-I'll give

him more.
True, if we're beaten, who shall answer that?
Shall you, or I?—Are you the governor ?
Or say we conquer, whose is then the praise?

Owed 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-

Herb. [Aside.] That, that's my torture.

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 forward virtues!-
Is reaping all this field of fame alone,
Or leaves him scarce the gleanings of a harvest.
Eum. See, Artamon with hasty strides return-

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