Thy words are balsam to my griefs. Eudocia, I never knew thee 'till this day; I knew not How many virtues I had wronged in thee!

Eud. If you talk thus, you have not yet forgiven me.

Eum. Forgiven thee!-Why, for thee it is,
thee only,

I think, heaven yet may look with pity on us;
Yes, we must all forgive each other now.
Poor Herbis too-we both have been to blame.
O, Phocyas!—but it cannot be recalled.
Yet were he here, we'd ask him pardon too.
My child!-I meant not to provoke thy tears.
Eud. [Aside.] O why is he not here? Why do

I see

Thousands of happy wretches, that but seem
Undone, yet still are blest in innocence,
And why is he not one?

Enter an Officer.

Offi. Where is Eumenes?

Eum. What means thy breathless haste? Offi. I fear there's danger: For as I kept my watch, I spied afar Thick clouds of dust, and on a nearer view Perceived a body of Arabian horse

Moving this way. I saw them wind the hill, And then lost sight of them.

Herb. I saw them too,

Enter another Officer.

2 Offi. Arm, arm! we're ruined? The foe is in the camp.

Eum. So soon!

2 Offi. They've quitted

Their horses, and with sword in hand have forced Our guard; they say they come for plunder. Eum. Villains!

Sure Caled knows not of this treachery. Come on-we can fight still. We'll make them know

What 'tis to urge the wretched to despair.

[A noise of fighting is heard for some time. Enter DARAN, with a party of Saracen Soldiers. Dar. Let the fools fight at distance—Here's the harvest.

Reap, reap, my countrymen !-Ay, there-first

clear

Those further tents

rage?

Pho. [Walking aside.] The blood ebbs back that filled my heart, and now Again her parting farewell awes my soul, As it were fate, and not to be revoked. Will she not now upbraid me? See thy friends! Are these, are these the villains thou hast trusted? Eud. What means this murmured sorrow to thyself?

Is it in vain that thou hast rescued me

ing danger?

Pho. Sure every angel watches o'er thy safety! Thou see'st 'tis death to approach thee without

awe,

And barbarism itself cannot profane thee.

Eud. Thou dost not answer; whence are these alarms?

Pho. Some stores removed, and not allowed

by treaty,

Have drawn the Saracens to make a search. Perhaps 'twill quickly be agreed-But, Oh! Thou knowest, Eudocia, I'm a banished man, And 'tis a crime I'm here once more before thee; Else might I speak; 'twere better for the present If thou would'st leave this place.

Eud. No I have a father,

(And shall I leave him?) whom we both have wronged,

Or he had not been thus driven out, exposed
The humble tenant of this sheltering vale,
For one poor night's repose. And yet, alas!
For this last act, how would I thank thee, Phocy-
as!-

I've nothing, now, but prayers and tears to give, Cold, fruitless thanks!But, 'tis some comfort yet,

That fate allows this short reprieve, that thus
We may behold each other, and once more
May mourn our woes, ere yet again we part-
Pho. For ever!

'Tis then resolved--It was thy cruel sentence, And I am here to execute that doom.

Eud. What dost thou mean?
Pho. [Kneeling.] Thus at thy feet-
Eud. O rise!

the gulph,

When thou hast trod that dark, that unknown

O think, if then

Pho. No-thought's my deadliest foe; 'Tis lingering racks, and slow consuming fires, And therefore to the grave I'd fly to shun it!

Eud. O fatal error I -Like a restless ghost, It will pursue and haunt thee still; even there, Perhaps, in forms more frightful. Death's a name By which poor guessing mortals are deceived; 'Tis no where to be found. Thou flyest in vain From life, to meet again with that thou flyest. How wilt thou curse thy rashness then? How

Pho. Thou weepest!

[Turns away weeping.

Canst thou shed tears, and yet not melt to mercy?
O say, ere yet returning madness seize me,
Is there in all futurity no prospect,

No distant comfort? Not a glimmering light
To guide me through this maze? Or must I now
Sit down in darkness and despair for ever?

[Here they both continue silent for some time. Still thou art silent?-Speak, disclose my doom, That's now suspended in this awful moment! O speak for now my passions wait thy voice: My beating heart grows calm, my blood stands still.

Scarcely I live, or only live to hear thee.

Eud. If yet-but can it be !-I fear-O, Pho

cyas,

Let me be silent still!

Pho. Hear then this last,

This only prayer!-Heaven will consent to this.
Let me but follow thee, where'er thou goest,
But see thee, hear thy voice; be thou my angel,
To guide and govern my returning steps,
Till long contrition and unwearied duty,
Shall expiate my guilt. Then say, Eudocia,
If, like a soul annealed in purging fires,
After whole years thou see'st me white again,
When thou, even thou shalt think-

Eud. No more-This shakes
My firmest thoughts, and if-

[Here a cry is heard of persons slaughtered in the camp.

-What shrieks of death!

3 D

thee now,

O murderous fiend! Why all this waste of blood? Didst thou not promise

Cal. Promise! Insolence!

'Tis well, 'tis well-for now I know thee too. Perfidious mongrel slave! Thou double traitor! False to thy first and to thy latter vows! Villain!

Pho. That's well-go on-I swear I thank thee.

Speak it again, and strike it through my ear! A villain!-Yes, thou mad'st me so, thou devil!

And mind'st me now what to demand from thee. Give, give me back my former self, my honour, My country's fair esteem, my friends, my allThou canst not-0 thou robber!- Give me then

Revenge, or death! The last I well deserve,
That yielded up my soul's best wealth to thee,
For which accurst be thou, and cursed thy pro-
phet!

Cal. Hearest thou this, Mahomet?-
pheming mouth!

-Blas

For this thou soon shalt chew the bitter fruit
Of Zacon's tree, the food of fiends below.
Go--speed thee thither-

[Pushing at him with his lance, which Phocias puts by, and kills him. Pho. Go thou first thyself.

Cal. [Falling.] O dog! thou gnawest my heart! -False Mahomet!

Is this then my reward-O

[Dies. Pho. Thanks to the gods, I have revenged my country! [Exit Phocyas.

Several parties of Christians and Saracens pass over the further end of the stage fightingThe former are beaten. At last EUMENES rallies them, and makes a stand. Then enters ABUDAH attended.

Abu. Forbear, forbear, and sheath the bloody sword!

Eum. Abudah! Is this well?
Abu. No-I must own

You have cause-O Mussulmans, look here!
Behold

Where, like a broken spear, your arm of war
Is thrown to earth!

Eum. Ha! Caled?

Abu. Dumb and breathless.

Then thus has Heaven chastised us in thy fall,
And thee, for violated faith. Farewell,
Thou great, but cruel man!

Eum. His thirst of blood
In his own blood is quenched.

Abu. Bear hence his clay

Back to Damascus. Cast a mantle first
O'er this sad sight: so should we hide his faults.
Now hear, ye servants of the prophet, hear!
A greater death than this demands your tears,
For know, your lord the caliph is no more!
Good Abubeker has breathed out his spirit
To him that gave it. Yet your caliph lives,
Lives now in Omar. See, behold his signet,
Appointing me, such is his will, to lead
His faithful armies warring here in Syria.
Alas! foreknowledge sure of this event
Guided his choice! Obey me, then, your chief.
For you, O Christians! know, with speed I came,
On the first notice of this foul design,
Or to prevent it, or repair your wrongs.
Your goods shall be untouched, your persons safe,
Nor shall our troops, henceforth, on pain of
death,

Molest your march. If more you ask, 'tis granted.
Eum. Still just and brave! thy virtues would

adorn

A purer
faith! Thou, better than thy sect,
That dar'st decline from that to acts of mercy!
Pardon, Abudah, if thy honest heart
Makes us even wish thee ours.

Abu. [Aside.] O, Power Supreme! That mad'st my heart, and know'st its inmost frame!

If yet I err, O lead me into truth,
Or pardon unknown error !—Now, Eumenes,
Friends as we may be, let us part in peace.
[Exeunt severally.

SCENE III.

Enter ARTAMON and EUDOCIA.

Eud. Alas! but is my father safe?
Art. Heaven knows.

I left him just preparing to engage
When doubtful of the event he bade me haste
To warn his dearest daughter of the danger,
And aid your speedy flight.

Soldier, thy looks speak well. What says thy tongue?

1 Offi. The foe's withdrawn; Abudah has been here,

And has renewed the terms.

Caled is killedArt. Hold-first thank Heaven for that! Eud. Where is Eumenes?

1 Offi. I left him well; by his command I came To search you out; and let you know this news. I've more; but that――

Art. Is bad, perhaps; so says This sudden pause. know it,

Well, be it so; let us

'Tis but life's chequered lot.

1 Offi. Eumenes mourns

[They withdraw to one side of the stage. A friend's unhappy fall; Herbis is slain ; A settled gloom seemed to hang heavy on him, The effect of grief, 'tis thought, for his lost son. When, on the first attack, like one that sought The welcome means of death, with desperate valour

He pressed the foe, and met the fate he wished. Art. See, where Eumenes comes!--What's this? He seems

To lead some wounded friend-Alas! 'tisEnter EUMENES leading in PuocYAS, with an arrow in his breast.

Eum. Give me thy wound! O I could bear it for thee!

This goodness melts my heart. What! in a mo

ment

Forgetting all thy wrongs, in kind embraces
To exchange forgiveness thus !

Pho. Moments are few,

And must not now be wasted. O, Eumenes,
Lend me thy helping hand a little farther;
O where, where is she?

[They advance. Eum. Look, look here, Eudocia! Behold a sight that calls for all our tears! Eud. Phocyas, and wounded!—O what cruel hand

Pho. No, 'twas a kind one- -Spare thy tears, Eudocia !

For mine are tears of joy.

Eud. Is't possible?

Pho. 'Tis done the powers supreme have

No longer now my dazzled eyes behold thee Through passion's mists; my soul now gazes on

thee,

Life follows through the wound.

Eud. What dost thou say?

O touch not yet the broken springs of life!
A thousand tender thoughts rise in my soul.
How shall I give them words! Oh, till this hour
I scarce have tasted woe!--this is indeed
To part-but, oh!-

Pho. No more- -death is now painful !
But say, my friends, whilst I have breath to ask,
(For still methinks all your concerns are mine)
Whither have you designed to bend your journey?

Eum. Constantinople is my last retreat, If Heaven indulge my wish; there I've resolved To wear out the dark winter of my life, An old man's stock of days.-I hope not many.

Eud. There will I dedicate myself to Heaven. O, Phocyas, for thy sake, no rival else Shall e'er possess my heart. My father too Consents to this my vow. My vital flame There, like a taper on the holy altar, Shall waste away; till Heaven relenting hears Incessant prayers for thee and for myself, And wing my soul to meet with thine in bliss. For in that thought I find a sudden hope, As if inspired, springs in my breast, and tells me, That thy repenting frailty is forgiven, And we shall meet again, to part no more.

Pho. [Plucking out the arrow.] Then all is done -'twas the last pang- -at lengthI've given up thee, and the world now is nothing.

port him.

-SO

Look how he bleeds! Let's lay him gently down. Night gathers fast -look up, himupon Or speak, if thou hast life-Nay then-my daughter!

She faints-Help there, and bear her to her tent. [Eudocia faints away. Art. [Weeping aside.] I thank ye, eyes! This is but decent tribute.

Eum. O Phocyas, Phocyas!