Wide round the roof a fictious sky was rais'd;

A glorious Sun in the meridian blaz'd,
On the rich columns play'd his dazzling ray,
And all around diffus'd immortal day;
A shining Phoenix on th' effusive rays
Fix'd his aspiring eye with steady gaze.
Beneath appear'd a chequer'd pavement, bright
With sparkling Jaspanyx and Chrysolite.
'Round, by creating Fiction's hand renew'd,

Gay visionary scenes in order stood;

Th' obedient figures at her touch disclos'd,
And various tales the glowing walls compos'd.

FROM

65

70

75

1762.

THE PRINCE OF PARTHIA, A TRAGEDY

ACT I. SCENE I

The Temple of the Sun.

Gotarzes and Phraates

Gotarzes. He comes, Arsaces comes! my gallant Brother, Like shining Mars in all the pomp of conquest,

Triumphant enters now our joyful gates.
Bright Victory waits on his glitt❜ring car
And shows her fav'rite to the wond'ring croud,
While Fame, exulting, sounds the happy name
To realms remote, and bids the world admire.
Oh, 't is a glorious day! let none presume

T' indulge the tear or wear the gloom of sorrow.
This day shall shine in Ages yet to come,

And grace the PARTHIAN story.

Glad Ctes' phon

Phraates.
Pours forth her numbers like a rolling deluge
To meet the blooming Hero: all the ways
On either side as far as sight can stretch
Are lin❜d with crouds, and on the lofty walls
Innumerable multitudes are rang'd.
On ev'ry countenance impatience sate
With roving eye, before the train appear'd;
But when they saw the Darling of the Fates,
They rent the air with loud repeated shouts.
The Mother show'd him to her infant son,

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ΤΟ

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And taught his lisping tongue to name Arsaces.

E'en aged Sires, whose sounds are scarcely heard,
By feeble strength supported tost their caps,

And gave their murmur to the gen❜ral voice.

25

Gotarzes. The spacious streets which lead up to the Temple

Are strew'd with flow'rs: each with frantic joy

His garland forms and throws it in the way.
What pleasure, Phraates, must swell his bosom,
To see the prostrate nation all around him
And know he 's made them happy! to hear them
Tease the Gods to show'r their blessings on him!
Happy Arsaces, fain I 'd imitate

Thy matchless worth, and be a shining joy.

30

Phraates. Hark, what a shout was that which pierc'd the

Now proud Arabia dreads her destin'd chains,
While shame and rout disperses all her sons.
Barzaphernes pursues the fugitives,

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40

The few whom fav'ring Night redeem'd from slaughter:
Swiftly they fled, for fear had wing'd their speed,
And made them bless the shade which saf'ty gave.

Phraates.

What a bright hope is ours, when those dread

pow'rs

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Who rule yon heav'n and guide the mov'ments here
Shall call your royal Father to their joys.
In blest Arsaces ev'ry virtue meets:
He's gen'rous, brave, and wise, and good,
Has skill to act, and noble fortitude

To face bold danger, in the battle firm,
And dauntless as a Lion fronts his foe;
Yet is he sway'd by ev'ry tender passion,

50

Forgiving mercy, gentleness, and love,

Which speak the Hero friend of humankind.

Gotarzes. And let me speak, for 't is to him I owe

55

That here I stand and breath the common air,

And 't is my pride to tell it to the world.

One luckless day, as in the eager chace
My Courser wildly bore me from the rest,

A monstrous Leopard from a bosky fen
Rush'd forth, and foaming lash'd the ground,
And fiercely ey'd me as his destin'd quarry.
My jav'lin swift I threw, but o'er his head
It erring pass'd and harmless in the air
Spent all its force; my falchin then I seiz'd,
Advancing to attack my ireful foe,

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When furiously the savage sprung upon me

And tore me to the ground; my treach'rous blade

Above my hand snap'd short, and left me quite

Defenceless to his rage. Arsaces then,

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Hearing the din, flew like some pitying pow'r,
And quickly freed me from the Monster's paws,
Drenching his bright lance in his spotted breast.

Would dare dispute with Jove the rule of heav'n;

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Like a Titanian son, with giant insolence

Match with the Gods and wage immortal war,

'Til their red wrath should hurl him headlong down

For standing 'twixt him and the hope of Empire,

90

Proud of strength, would seek the further shore;

But 'ere he the mid-stream gain'd, a poignant pain

Shot thro' his well-strung nerves, contracting all,

And the stiff joints refus'd their wonted aid.

Loudly he cry'd for help: Arsaces heard,
And thro' the swelling waves he rush'd to save
His drowning Brother, and gave him life;

And for the boon the Ingrate pays him hate.

Phraates. There's something in the wind, for I've observ’d

Of late he much frequents the Queen's apartment,

105

And fain would court her favour. Wild is she

To gain revenge for fell Vonones' death,
And firm resolves the ruin of Arsaces,

Because that, fill'd with filial piety,

To save his Royal Sire he struck the bold
Presumptuous Traitor dead: nor heeds she

The hand which gave her Liberty, nay rais'd her
Again to Royalty.

The Gods sure let thee loose to scourge mankind,

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And save them from an endless waste of thunder.

Phraates. Yet I 've beheld this now so haughty Queen
Bent with distress and e'en by pride forsook,
When following thy Sire's triumphant car;
Her tears and ravings mov'd the senseless herd,
And pity blest their more than savage breasts
With the short pleasure of a moments softness.
Thy Father, conquer'd by her charms (for what
Can charm like mourning beauty?), soon struck off

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Her chains, and rais'd her to his bed and throne;

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The fierce Vonones, with the regal crown

Adorn'd the brows of her aspiring Son,

Of rich Armenia, once the happy rule

Of Tisaphernes, her deceased Lord.

Gotarzes. And he in wasteful war return'd his thanks, 130 Refus'd the homage he had sworn to pay,

And spread Destruction ev'ry where around, 'Til from Arsaces hand he met the fate

His crimes deserv'd.

Phraates.

As yet your princely Brother
Has scap'd Thermusa's rage; for, still residing
In peaceful times within his Province, ne'er
Has fortune blest her with a sight of him

On whom she'd wreck her vengeance.

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1759.

Gotarzes.

She has won

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By spells, I think, so much on my fond father

That he is guided by her will alone.

She rules the realm; her pleasure is a law;

All offices and favours are bestow'd

As she directs.

Phraates.

But see, the Prince Vardanes;

Proud Lysias with him, he whose soul is harsh

With jarring discord. Nought but madding rage
And ruffian-like revenge his breast can know;
Indeed, to gain a point he 'll condescend
To mask the native rancour of his heart,
And smooth his venom'd tongue with flattery:
Assiduous now he courts Vardanes' friendship-
See how he seems to answer all his gloom,
And give him frown for frown.

And shun them now: I know not what it means,

But chilling horror shivers o'er my limbs

When Lysias I behold.

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150

155

1765.

ROBERT ROGERS

FROM

PONTEACH

OR THE SAVAGES OF AMERICA

ACT I. SCENE I

An Indian Trading House. Enter M'Dole and Murphey,
Two Indian Traders, and their Servants.

M'Dole. So, Murphey, you are come to try your Fortune
Among the Savages in this wild Desart?

Murphey. Ay, any Thing to get an honest Living,

Which, 'faith, I find it hard enough to do;

Times are so dull and Traders are so plenty

5

That Gains are small and Profits come but slow.

M'Dole. Are you experienc'd in this kind of Trade?

Know you the Principles by which it prospers,
And how to make it lucrative and safe?