SCENE III-A Garden.

Enter EUDOCIA.

Eud. All's hush'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.

Eudocia,

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

O no-my hero comes with better omens, 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,
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,

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?
Most 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
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 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.
0, 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,

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!
[Exeunt.

Eum. 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
Decrees thee honours for a city sav'd; Possesses all my soul.-If we are beaten!-

him more.

[Aside.

pay.

Her. The poison works; 'tis well-I'll give How shall thy country pay the debt she owes thee?
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
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.

Art. Joy to Eumenes!

Eum. Joy!-is't possible?

Dost thou bring news of victory?

Art. The sun

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

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. - Haste, proclaim
The welcome tidings loud through all the city.
Let sparkling lights be seen from every turrel,
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.

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 sound
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

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.

[Exeunt Herbis and Artamon. Pho. And may succeeding days prove yet more happy!

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 are
freely sent,

And should be freely shar'd.

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

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,

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,

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 thec 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 ;

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? Eum. Well—ask that dowry; say, can Ďamascus pay it?

Her riches shall be tax'd; name but the sum,
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

'Tis true thou'st fought a skirmish—What of
that?

Had Eutyches been present-
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

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? Thou arrogantly wouldst usurp dominion,
Why is she sav'd from these Arabian spoilers, Believ'st thyself the guardian genius here,
If to be stripp'd by her own sons?-Forgive me And that our fortunes hang upon thy sword;
If the thought glows on my cheeks! I know Be that first try'd — for know, that from this
Twas mention'd but to prove how much I scorn it.
Yes, Eumenes,

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

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

Pho. Not think of her!
Impossible.-She's ever present to me!

Mir life, my soul! She animates my being,
And kindles up my thoughts to worthy actions.
And why, Eumenes, why not think of her?
Is not my rank-

Eum. 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?

Thou here hast no command.

moment,
stay,

choice.

Farewell!-So

Or hence and join the foe; thou hast thy
[Exit.
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.

SCENE II-The Garden.

Enter EUDOCIA.

[Exil

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,

And hear applauding crowds pronounce me

bless'd!

Eud. What dost thou mean? For now 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!

Now thou shalt see how I will bend my spirit,
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 prey:
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,

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 light

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,

Hadst thou betray'd us, sold us to the foe-
Pho. Would I be yet a traitor, I have leave;
Nay, I am dar'd to it, with mocking scorn.
My crime indeed was asking thee; that only
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
host!

Eud. Hold-let me think awhile.

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-O,
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!

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

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?
[Weeps.
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
justice.

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

See, Phocyas, what thy wrongs and mine have
wrought

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.
Pl. Then let us lose no time, but hence

this night.

The gates I can command, and will provide
The means of our escape. Some five hours hence,
Twill then be turn'd of midnight, we may meet
In the piazza of Honoria's convent.

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 our
guard:

Some pitying angel will attend thy steps,
Guide thee unseen, and charm the sleeping foe,
Till thou art safe! Oh, I have suffer'd nothing
Thus gaining thee, and this great gen'rous proof,
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 all! [Exeunt

ACT III.

SCENE I-CALED'S Tent.
Enter CALED and Attendants. SERGIUS held
by Two Guards, bound with Cords.
Ser. Oh, mercy, mercy!

Caled. Mercy! what's that?-Look yonder
on the field

Of our late fight! Go, talk of mercy there.
Will the dead bear thy voice?

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
pursu❜d,

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 head; then cast it o'er the gates!
There let thy tongue tell o'er its tale again!
Ser. Oh, bloody Saracens!

Till Mahomet himself there stopp'd their en-
trance,

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
weapons

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.

Enter ABUDAH.

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
Upon our shame, ere doubly we've redeem'd it.
Have 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,

ΟΙ

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

vengeance.

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,
And 'twill be known whose arm is then the
stronger.

Enter DARAN.

Daran. Health to the race of Ismael! and day's 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 ?
-Daran,

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 T'observe the city gates, I saw from far

faithful!

I know thy mighty and unconquer'd spirit;

Two persons issue forth; the one advanc'd, And ere he could retreat, my horsemen seiz'd him; Yet hear me, Caled, hear and weigh my doubts, The other was a woman, and had fled,

Our angry prophet frowns upon our vices,
And visits us in blood. Why else did terror,
Unknown before, seize all our stoutest bands?
The angel of destruction was abroad;
The archers of the tribe of Thoal fled,
So long renown'd, or spent their shafts in vain;
The feather'd flights err'd through the boundless
air,

Or the death turn'd on him 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;
A 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,
I fear 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.

Upon a signal giv'n at our approach,
And got within the gates. Wouldst thou know

more,

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. Thou saw'st how in the vale of Honan once Is it because thou know'st what slaughter'd

The troops, as now defeated, fled confus'd
Ev'n to the gates of Mecca's holy city?

heaps

There yet unbury'd lie without the camp,