Sure love can ne'er in generous breasts be lost
To that degree, as not from shame and outrage
To fave what once they lov'd.
Maf. Enchantment! Madness!
What wouldst thou, Sophonifba ?-Oh, my heart!
My treacherous heart!
Soph. What would I, Mafiniffa?
My mean request fits blufhing on my cheek,
To be thy flave, young Prince, is what I beg;
Here Sophonifba kneels to be thy flave;
Yet kneels in vain. But thou'rt a flave thyself,
And canst not from the Romans fave one woman;
Her, who was once the triumph of thy foul,
Ere they feduc'd it by their lying glory.
Immortal gods! and am I fallen fo low?
Scorn'd by a lover, by a flave to Rome?
Nought can be worth this bafenefs, life nor empire.
I loath me for it. On this kinder earth,
Then leave me, leave me, to despair and death.
Maf. What means this conflict with almighty nature?
With the whole warring heart?-Rife, quickly rife,
In all the conquering majefty of charms;
O Sophonisba, rife! while here I swear,
By the tremendous powers that rule mankind,
By heaven, and earth, and hell, by love and glory,
The Romans fhall not hurt you
Romans cannot ;
For Rome is generous as the gods themselves,
And honours, not infults, a generous foe.
Yet fince you dread them, take this facred pledge,
This hand of furety, by which kings are bound,
By which I hold you mine, and vow to treat you
With all the reverence due to ruin'd state,
With all the foftnefs of remember'd love,
All that can footh thy fate, and make thee happy.
Soph. I thank thee, Mafiniffa. Now the faine,
The fame warm youth, exalted, full of foul,
With whom, in happier days, I wont to pafs
The fighing hour; while dawning fair in love,
All fong and fweetnefs, life fet joyous out,
Ere the black tempeft of ambition rofe,
And drove us different ways. Thus drefs'd in war,
In nodding plumes, o'ercaft with fullen thought,
With purpos'd vengeance dark, I knew thee not;
But now breaks out the beauteous fun anew,
The Numidian fhines who warm'd me once,
gay
Whofe love was glory. Vain ideas, hence!
Long fince, my heart, to nobler paffions known,
Has your acquaintance fcorn'd.
Maf. Oh, while you talk,
Enchanting fair-one! my deluded thought
Runs back to days of love; when fancy still
Found worlds of beauty, ever rifing new
To the tranfported eye; when flattering hope
Form'd endless profpects of increasing bliss,
And still the credulous heart believ'd them all,
Even more than love could promife. But the fcere
Is full of danger for a tainted eye;
I must not, dare not, will not look that way.
Oh, hide it, wifdom, glory, from my view!
Or in sweet ruin I fhall fink again.
Difafter clouds thy cheek; thy colour goes.
Retire, and from the troubles of the day
Repose thy weary foul, worn out with care,
And rough unhappy thought.
Ne'er want the goodness he has fhewn to me.
Maf. The danger's o'er; I've heard the fyren's fong;
Yet ftill to glory hold my steady course.
I mark'd thy kind concern, thy friendly fears,
And own them juft; for fhe has beauty, Narva,
So full, fo perfect, with fo great a foul
Inform'd, fo pointed high with fpirit,
As ftrikes like lightning from the hand of Jove,
And raises love to glory.
Narva. Ah, my Prince!
Too true, it is too true; her fatal charms
Are powerful, and to Mafiniffa's heart
But know the way too well. And art thou fure,
That the foft poifon, which within thy veins
Lay unextinguish'd, is not rouz'd anew?
Is not this moment working thro' thy foul?
Doft thou not love? Confefs.
Maf. What faid my friend,
Of poifon, love, of loving Sophonisba?
Yes, I admire her, wonder at her beauty;
And he who does not is as dull as earth,
The cold, unanimated form of man,
Ere lighted up with the celeflial fire.
Where'er the goes, ftill admiration gazes,
And liftens while the talks. Even thou thyself,
Who faw'ft her with the malice of a friend,
Even thou thyself admir'ft her. Doft thou not?
Say, fpeak fincerely.
Narva. She has charms indeed;
But has the charms like virtue? Tho' majestic,
Does the command us? Is her force like glory?
Maf. All glory's in her eye; Perfection thence
Looks from his throne; and on her ample brow
Sits Majefty. Her features glow with life,
Warm with heroic foul. Her mien! fhe walks,
As when a towering goddess treads this earth.
But when her language flows, when fuch a one
Defcends to footh, to figh, to weep, to grafp
The tottering knee, Oh, Narva! Narva, Oh!
Expreffion here is dumb.
Narva. Alas, my Lord!
Is this the talk of fober admiration?
Are these the fallies of a heart at ease?
Of Scipio's friend? And was it the calm fenfe
Of fair perfection, that, while she kneel'd
For what you rafhly promis'd, feiz'd your foul,
Stole out in fecret tranfports from your eye,
That writh'd you groaning round, and fhook your frame?
Maf. I tell thee once again, too cautious man,
That when a woman begs, a matchless woman,
A woman once belov'd, a fallen queen,
A Sophonisba! when the twines her charms
Around our foul, and all her power of looks,
Of tears, of fighs, of foftnefs, plays upon us,
He's more or lefs than man who can refist her.
For me, my stedfast soul approves, nay, more,
Exults in the protection it has promis'd:
And nought, tho' plighted honour did not bind me,
Shall shake the happy purpose of my heart;
Nought, by th' avenging gods, who heard my vow,
And hear me now again.
Narva. And was it then
For this you conquer'd?
Maf. Yes, and triumph in it.
This was my fondeft with, the very point,
The plume of glory, the delicious prize
Of bleeding years. And I had been a brute,
A greater monster than Numidia breeds,
A horror to myself, if, on the ground,
Caft vilely from me, I th' illuftrious fair one
Had left to bondage, bitternefs, and death,
Nor is there ought in war worth what I feel,
pomp and hollow ftate, like this fweet fenfe
Of infelt blifs, which the reflection gives me,
Of faving thus fuch excellence and beauty
From her fupreme abhorrence.
My friend, my royal Lord! alas, you flide,
You fink from virtue! On the giddy brink
Of fate you land. One step, and all is loft.
Maf. No more, no more! If this is being loft,
If this, mistaken! is forfaking virtue,
And rushing down the precipice of fate,
Then down I go, far, far beyond the din
Of fcrupulous, dull precaution. Leave me, Narva ;
I want to be alone, to find fome fhade,
Some folitary gloom, there to shake off
This weight of life, this tumult of mankind,
This fick ambition, on itfelf recoiling,
And there to listen to the gentle voice,
The figh of peace, fomething, I know not what,
That whifpers tranfport to my heart. Farewel.
Narva. Struck, and he knows it not, So when the
Elate in heart, the warrior fcorns to yield,
The ftreaming blood can fearce convince his eyes,
Nor will he feel the wound by which he dies.
N vain I wander through the shade for peace
IN I
pure of heart,
That there the goddess talks-But in my breaft
Some bufy thought, fome fecret-eating pang,
Throbs inexpreffible; and rowls from-What?
From charm to charm, on Sophonisba still
Earneft, intent, devoted all to her.
Oh, it must out!-'Tis love, almighty love!
Returning on me with a ftronger tide.
I'll doubt no more, but give it up to love.
Come to my breaft, theu rofy-fmiling god!
Come unconfin'd! bring all thy joys along,
All thy foft cares, and mix them copious here..
But why invoke I thee? Thy power is weak,
To Sophonifba's eye; thy quiver poor,
To the refiftiefs lightning of her form;
And dull thy bare infinuating arts,
To the fweet mazes of her flowing tongue.
Quick, let me fly to her; and there forget
This tedious abfence, war, ambition, noife,.
Even friendship's felf, the vanity of fame,
And all but love, for love is more than all.!
Welcome again, my friend-Come nearer, Narvas
Lend me thine arm, and I will tell thee all,
Unfold my fecret heart, whose every pulfe
With Sophonisba beats.-Nay, hear me out-
Swift, as I mus'd, the conflagration spread;
At once too strong, too general, to be quench'd.
I love, and I approve it, doat upon her,
Even think these minutes loft I talk with thee.
Heavens! what emotions have poffefs'd my foul !
Snatch'd by a moment into years of paffion.
Nar. Ah, Mafiniffa !-
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