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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.

Örest. 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!

Help to support him.-How he pants for breath!

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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 flaming 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.

Enter PHENIX, attended by Guards. Phan. All, all are fled! Orestes is not here! Triumphant villains!-The base, giddy rabble, Whose hands should all have been employed with fire,

To waste the fleet, flocked round the dying prin

cess;

And, while they stand agaze, the Greeks embark.
Oh, 'tis too plain !-this sacrilegious murder
Was authorised.- -The ambassador's escape
Declares his guilt.-Most bloody embassy!
Most unexampled deed!-Where, where, yegods,
Is majesty secure, if in your temples
You give it no protection!-See, the queen.
[A flourish of trumpets

Enter ANDROMACHE and CEPHISA. Andr. Yes, ye inhuman Greeks! the time will

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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 PHENIX.

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
grief,

By unforeseen expedients bring relief.

[Exeunt omnes.

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 fly the charms
Of love and life in a young monarch's arms!
'Twere a hard fate- Here I had undergone it,

I might have took one night-to think upon it.
But why, you'll say, was all this grief ex prest
For a first husband, laid long since at rest?
Why so mnch 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,
New states are form'd, and ancient empires fall.
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.

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:

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
Convey some moral to th' attentive ear.
Beware, lest blessings long possest displease;
Nor grow supine with liberty and ease.
Your country's glory be your constant aini,
Her safety all is yours-think your's her fame.
Unite at home-forego intestine jars;
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 Mahometar ism for the sake of the spoil.

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

clius.

WOMEN.

EUDOCIA, daughter to Eumenes.

Officers, soldiers, citizens and attendants.

Saracen captains.

Officers, soldiers and attendants.

SCENE, The City of Damascus, in Syria, and the Saracen Camp before it. And, in the les?

Act, a Valley adjacent.

SCENE 1.-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, Artainon, 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?

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 de-

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.

ast Offi. Down with the ladders!

What, will you let them mount?

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

2d Offi. Aloft there! give the signal, you that of their new faith, and drives them on to dan

wait

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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 repelica,

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:
That failing, we the better stand acquitted
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.
[Exeunt.

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 mer-
chants 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 mussulmen, not christians, I would not treat.
I hate these christian dogs; and 'tis our task,
As thou observ'st, 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
for pay;

This earth, it seems, has gifts that please him

more.

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

Yet, I could wish that zeal had better motives.
Has victory no fruits but blood and plunder?
That we were sent to fight, 'tis true; but where-
fore?

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,
To hear what you'll propose.

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.
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

mons,

When first we marched against you, to sur render.

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-
quest.

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
command

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 ter

rors,

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?

Herb. 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 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 truth-This would be
friendship,

And well might claim our thanks.
Cal. Friendship like this
With scorn had been received: your numeroas

vices,

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