His head unarmed, as if in scorn of danger,
And naked to the waist; as he drew near,
He raised his arin, and shook a ponderous 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 con-
quest.

The battle joined, and through the barbarous host,

Fight, fight, and paradise! was all the cry.
At last our leaders met; and gallant Phocyas-
But what are words to tell the mighty wonders
We saw him then perform?-Their chief un-
horsed,

The Saracens soon broke their ranks and fled;
And had not a thick evening fog arose,
(Which sure the devil raised up to save his
friends)

The slaughter had been doublehold!

The hero comes.

-But, be

Enter PHOCYAS, EUMENES meeting him. Eum. Joy to brave Phocyas! Eumenes gives him back the joy he sent. The welcome news has reached this place before thee.

How shall thy country pay the debt she owes thee?

Pho. By taking this as earnest of a debt Which I owe her, and fain would better pay. Her. In spite of envy I must praise him too.

[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 the expected succours.
Pho. What!- -to be cooped 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.
Art. [Aside.] It must be so-he hates him, on
my soul!

This Herbis is a foul old envious knave.
Methinks Eumenes too might better thank him.
Eum. [To Herbis aside.] Urge him no more;-
I'll think of thy late warning;

And thou shalt see I'll yet be governor.
A letter brought in.

Pho. [Looking on it.] 'Tis to Eumenes.

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 threatened deadly ruin- -Haste, proclaim
The welcome tidings loud through all the city.
Let sparkling lights be seen from every turret,
To tell our 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 citizens shall meet o'er their full bowls,
Forget their toils, and laugh their cares away,
And mirth and triumphs close this happy day.

[Ereunt Herb. and Art. Pho. And may succeeding days prove yet more happy!

Well dost thou bid the voice of triumph sound Through all our streets; our city calls thee fa ther;

And say, Eumenes, dost thou not perceive
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 shared.

Pho. True- -Generous minds Redoubled feel the pleasures they impart. For me, if I've deserved by arms or counsels, By hazards gladly sought, and greatly prospered, 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 her

Impossible! Oh, rather let me walk Like a dumb ghost, and burst my heart in silence. [Exit.

SCENE II.-The Garden.

Enter EUDOCIA.

Eud. Why must we meet by stealth, like guilty lovers!

But 'twill not long be so-What joy it will be
To own my hero in his ripened honours,
And hear applauding crowds pronounce me blest!
Sure he'll be here-See the fair rising moon,
Ere day's remaining twilight scarce is spent,
Hangs up her ready lamp, and with mild lustre
Drives back the hovering shade! Come, Phocy-

as, come;

This gentle season is a friend to love;

And now, methinks, I could with equal passion, Meet thine, and tell thee all my secret soul. Enter PHOCYAS.

He hears me-O my Phocyas!-What-not answer!

Art thou not he; or art some shadow?

Speak.

Pho. I am indeed a shadow-I am nothingEud. What dost thou mean?- -for now I know thee, Phocyas.

Pho. And never can be thine!

It will have vent- -O barbarous, cursed-but

hold

I had forgot it was Eudocia's father! O, could I too forget how he has used me! Eud. I fear to ask thee

-O generous maid!

Pho. Dost thou fear !—Alas, Then thou wilt pity meThou hast charmed down the rage that swelled my heart,

And choaked my voice-now I can speak to thee. And yet 'tis worse than death what I have suffered;

It is the death of honour! Yet that's little; 'Tis more, Eudocia, 'tis the loss of thee!

Eud. Hast thou not conquered? What are all these shouts,

This voice of general joy, heard far around? What are these fires, that cast their glimmering 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 general 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 despised, reviled, cashiered,
Stript 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 accurst 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 that thou hast borne this? What else could be thy crime?-Wert thou a traitor,

Had'st thou betrayed us, sold us to the foe

Pho. Would I be yet a traitor, I have leave; Nay, I am dared to it with mocking scorn. My crime indeed was asking thee; that only Has cancelled all, if I had any merit! The city now is safe, my service slighted, And I discarded, like an useless thing, Nay, bid begone

-and, if I like that better,

Seek out new friends, and join yon barbarous host.

Eud. Hold-let me think a while

Thou hast been used thus? Art thou quite undone?
Pho. Yes, very sure-
-What dost thou mean?
Eud. That then, it is a time for me-0,
Heaven! that I

Alone am grateful to this wondrous man!
To own thee, Phocyas, thus-[Giving 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! [Embracing her. O, no-we will not part! Confirm it, Heaven! Now thou shalt see how I will bend my spirit, With what soft patience I will bear my wrongs, 'Till I have wearied out thy father's scorn. Yet I have worse to tell thee-EutychesEud. Why wilt thou name him? Pho. Now, even now, he's coming! Just hovering o'er thee, like a bird of prey. Thy father vows-for I must tell thee all'Twas this that wrung my heart, and racked my brain,

Even to distraction !-vows thee to his bed; Nay, threatened force, if thou refuse obedience. Eud. Force! threatened force! my fatherwhere is nature?

Is that, too, banished from his heart!-- then
I have no father-How have I deserved this?—
[Weeping.

No home, but am henceforth an out-cast orphan;
For I will wander to earth's utmost bounds,
Ere give my hand to that detested contract.

O save me, Phocyas! thou hast saved my father;
Must I yet call him so, this cruel father-
How wilt thou now deliver poor Eudocia ?

Pho. See, how we're joined in exile! How our fate

Conspires to warn us both to leave this city!
Thou knowest the emperor is now at Antioch;
I have an uncle there, who, when the Persian,
As now the Saracen, had nigh o'er run
The ravaged empire, did him signal service,
And nobly was rewarded. There, Eudocia,
Thou might'st be safe, and we 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 every danger. Danger is only here, and dwells with guilt, With base ingratitude, and hard oppression.

Pho. 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 turned 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-O protect us, Heaven!

Pho. Fear not;-thy innocence will be our guard. I've thought already how to shape our course; Some pitying angel will attend thy steps, Guide thee unseen, and charm the sleeping foe, Till thou art safe! O, I have suffered nothing! Thus gaining thee, and this great generous proof, How blest 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.

What must be done?

Cal. Thou know'st the important news, Which we have intercepted by this slave, Of a new army's march. The time now calls, While these soft Syrians are dissolved in riot, Fooled with success, and not suspecting danger, Neglectful of their watch, or else fast bound In chains of sleep, companion of debauches, 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, unprepared to 'scape our vengeance.

Abu. Great captain of the armies of the faithful!

I know thy mighty and unconquered spirit;
Yet hear me, Caled, hear and weigh my doubts.
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 fied,
So long renowned, or spent their shafts in vain;
The feathered flight erred through the boundless
air,

Or the death turned on him that drew the bow!
What can this bode?-Let me speak plainer yet;
Is it to propagate the 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, Heaven! Fall even a prey to our own spoils and conquests.

Cal. No-thou mistakest; thy pious zeal deceives thee.

Our prophet only chides our sluggard valour.
Thou sawest how, in the vale of Honan, once
The troops, as now defeated, fled confused,
Even to the gates of Mecca's holy city:
Till Mahomet himself there stopped their en-
trance,

A javelin in his hand, and turned them back
Upon the foe; they fought again, and conquered.
Behold how we may best appease his wrath!
His own example points us out the way.

Abu. Well-be it then resolved. The indulgent hour

Of better fortune is, I hope, at hand.

And yet, since Phocyas has appeared its champion,

How has this city raised its drooping head!
As if some charm prevailed where'er he fought,
Our strength seems withered, and our feeble

Is fallen within my watch, and waits his doom. Cal. 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.

DARAN goes out, and re-enters with PHOCYAS. Whence, and what art thou?-Of Damascus?Daran,

Where didst thou find this dumb and sullen thing, That seems to lour defiance on our anger?

Dar. Marching in circuit, with the horse thou gavest me,

To observe the city gates, I saw from far
Two persons issue forth; the one advanced,
And, ere he could retreat, my horsemen seized

His eyes are fixed on earth; some deep distress Is at his heart. This is no common captive.

Cal. 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.
Cal. Ha! Phocyas?

Abu. Phocyas-Mahomet, we thank thee! Now dost thou smile again.

Dar. [Aside.] O devil, devil!

And I not know him!-'twas but yesterday
He killed my horse, and drove me from the field.
Now I'm revenged! No; hold you there, not
yet,

Not while he lives.

My countrymen.-Yet, were you men, I could
Unfold a story-But no more-Eumenes,
Thou hast thy wish, and I-am now-a worm!
Abu. [To Cal. aside.] Leader of armies, hear
him! for my mind
Presages good accruing to our cause
By this event.

Cal. I tell thee, then, thou wrong'st us,
To think our hearts thus steeled, or our ears deaf
To all that thou mayest utter. Speak, disclose
The secret woes that throb within thy breast.
Now, by the silent hours of night, we'll hear
thee,

And mute attention shall await thy words.

Pho. This is not, then, the palace in Damascus !

If you will hear, then I, indeed, have wronged you.

How can this be?-when he, for whom I've fought,

Fought against you, has yet refused to hear me! You seem surprised.-It was ingratitude