Cal. This is something.

And yet I do not like this half-ally—

Is he not still a christian?-But no matter-
Mean time I will attack the eastern gate;
Who first succeeds gives entrance to the rest.
Hear, all!Prepare ye now for boldest deeds,
And know, the prophet will reward your valour.
Think that we all to certain triumph move;
Who falls in fight yet meets the prize above.

There, in the gardens of eternal spring,
While birds of paradise around you sing,
Each, with his blooming beauty by his side,
Shall drink rich wines that in full rivers glide,
Breathe fragrant gales o'er fields of spice that
blow,

And gather fruits immortal as they grow;
Ecstatic bliss shall your whole powers employ,
And every sense be lost in every joy. [Exeunt.

SCENE I-A great square in the city before the governor's palace.

Enter ABUDAH, Saracen captains, and soldiers; with EUMENES, HERBIS, and other Christians, unarmed.

Eum. It must be so- -farewell, devoted walls! To be surprised thus !Hell, and all ye fiends, How did ye watch this minute for destruction ! Herb. We've been betrayed by riot and debauch;

Curse on the traitor guard!

Eum. The guard above,

Did that sleep too?

Abu. Christians, complain no more;

What you have asked is granted. Are ye men, And dare ye question thus, with bold impatience, Eternal justice!Know, the doom from Hea

ven

Falls on your towers, resistless as the bolt
That fires the cedars on your mountain tops.
Be meek, and learn with humble awe to bear
The mitigated ruin. Worse had followed,
Had ye opposed our numbers. Now you're safe;
Quarter and liberty are given to all ;
And little do ye think how much ye owe
To one brave enemy, whom yet ye know not.

Enter ARTAMON hastily.

Art. All's lost!-Ha!Who are these? Eum. All's lost, indeed.

Yield up thy sword, if thou wouldst share our

safety.

Thou com'st too late to bring us news.

Curse on those terms! The city's mine by storm.
Fall on, I say-

Abu. Nay then, I swear ye shall not.
Cal. Ha! -Who am I?

Abu. The general-and I know
What reverence is your due.

[Caled gives signs to his men to fall on. -Nay, he who stirs,

First makes his way through me. My honour's pledged;

Rob me of that who dares. [They stop.] I know thee, Caled,

Chief in command; bold, valiant, wise, and faithful;

But yet, remember, I'm a Mussulman; Nay, more, thou know'st, companion of the prophet,

And what we vow is sacred.

Cal. Thou art a Christian,

I swear thou art, and hast betrayed the faith.
Curse on thy new allies!

Abu. No more-this strife
But ill beseems the servants of the caliph,
And casts reproach-Christians, withdraw a
while;

I pledge my life to answer the conditions

[Exeunt Eumenes, Herbis, &c. Why, Caled, do we thus expose ourselves A scorn to nations that despise our law? Thou call'st me Christian-What! Is it because I prize my plighted faith, that I'm a Christian? Come, 'tis not well, and if

Cal. What terms are yielded?

Abu. Leave to depart, to all that will; an oath First given, no more to aid the war against us; An unmolested march; each citizen

peace?

Why sleeps thy sword?

Beside some few slight arms for their defence

Against the mountain robbers.

Cal. Now, by Mahomet, Thou hast equipped an army!

Abu. Canst thou doubt

The greatest part by far will chuse to stay,
Receive our law, or pay the accustomed tribute?
What fear we then from a few wretched bands
Of scattered fugitives?-Besides, thou know'st
What towns of strength remain yet unsubdued.
Let us appear this once like generous victors,
So future conquests shall repay this bounty,
And willing provinces even court subjection.
Cal. Well-be it on thy head, if worse befall!
This once I yield-but see it thus proclaimed
Through all Damascus, that who will depart
Must leave the place this instant-

move on.

-Pass, [Exeunt.

SCENE II. The outside of a nunnery.

Enter EUDOCIA.

Eud. Darkness is fled; and yet the morning light

Gives me more fears than did night's deadly gloom.

Within, without, all, all are foes- -Oh, Phocyas,
Thou art perhaps at rest! would I were too!
[After a pause.
This place has holy charms; rapine and murder
Dare not approach it, but are awed to distance.
I've heard that even these infidels have spared
Walls sacred to devotion-World, farewell!
Here will I hide me, till the friendly grave
Opens its arms and shelters me for ever! [Exit.
Enter PHOCYAS.

Pho. Did not I hear the murmurs of a voice, This way?—a woman's too?-and seemed complaining?

Hark-No-O torture! Whither shall I turn me?

I've searched the palace rooms in vain; and now, I know not why, some instinct brought me hither; I was here last night we met. Dear, dear Eudocia !

Eud. O, yet beware-lest some event unknown Again should part us.

Pho. [Aside.] Heaven avert the omen! None can, my fair, none shall.

Eud. Alas! thy transports

Make thee forget; is not the city taken ?
Pho. It is.

Eud. And are we not beset with foes?

Pho. There are no foes-or none to thee→→→→→ No danger.

Eud. No foes?

Pho. I know not how to tell thee yet;— But think, Eudocia, that my matchless love, And wondrous causes pre-ordained conspiring, For thee have triumphed o'er the fiercest foes, And turned them friends.

Eud. Amazement! Friends!

O all ye guardian powers!-Say on-O lead me, Lead me through this dark maze of Providence, Which thou hast trod, that I may trace thy steps, With silent awe, and worship as I pass.

Pho. Enquire no more-thou shalt know all hereafter

Let me conduct thee hence

Eud. O, whither next?

To what far distant home?-But 'tis enough, That, favoured thus of Heaven, thou art my guide.

And as we journey on the painful way,
Say, wilt thou then beguile the passing hours,
And open all the wonders of the story?

Pho. Indulge no more thy melancholy thoughts! Damascus is thy home.

Eud. And yet thou sayest

It is no longer ours!Where is my father? Pho. To show thee, too, how Fate seems eve

ry way

To guard thy safety, e'en thy father now,
Wert thou within his power, would stand de-
feated

Of his tyrannic vow. Thou know'st last night
What hope of aid flattered this foolish city.
At break of day, the Arabian scouts had seized
A second courier, and, from him, 'tis learned
That on their march the army mutinied,
And Eutyches was slain.

Eud. And yet, that now

Is of the least importance to my peace.
But answer me; say, where is now my father?
Pho. Or gone, or just preparing to depart.
Eud. What! Is our doom reversed?' And is
he then
The wretched fugitive?

Pho. Thou heavenly maid!

To free thee, then, from every anxious thought, Know, I've once more, wronged as I am, eva saved

Thy father's threatened life; nay, saved Da

mascus

From blood and slaughter, and from total ruin. Terms are obtained, and general freedom granted To all that will, to leave in peace the city.

Eud: Is't possible-now trust me I could chide thee:

Tis much unkind to hold me thus in doubt;
I pray thee clear these wonders.

Pho. Twill surprise thee,
When thou shalt know-

Eud. What?

Pho. To what deadly gulphs

Of horror and despair, what cruel straits
Of agonizing thought I have been driven.
This night, ere my perplexed, bewildered soul,
Could find its way-thou saidst that thou
wouldst chide;

I fear thou wilt; indeed, I have done that
I could have wished to avoid-but for a cause
So lovely, so beloved-

Eud. What dost thou mean?

I'll not indulge a thought, that thou couldst do
One act unworthy of thyself, thy honour,
And that firm zeal against these foes of heaven,
Which won my heart, at first, to share in all
Thy dangers and thy fame, and wish thee mine.
Thou couldst not save thy life by means inglo-

rious.

These battered walls were rocks impregnable,
Their towers of adamant. But, oh! I fear
Some act of thine-

Pho. Oh, I must tell thee all;

But prithee do not frown on me, Eudocia !
I found the wakeful foe, in midnight council,
Resolved, ere day, to make a fresh attack,
Keen for revenge, and hungry after slaughter-
Could my racked soul bear that, and think of thee!
Nay, think of thee exposed, a helpless prey,
To some fierce ruffian's violating arms!
O, had the world been mine, in that extreme
I should have given whole provinces away,
Nay, all-and thought it little for thy ransom!
Eud. For this, then-Oh-thou hast betrayed
the city!

Distrustful of the righteous powers above,
That still protect the chaste and innocent:
And to avert a feigned, uncertain danger,
Thou hast brought certain ruin on thy country!
Pho. No, thou forgetst the friendly terms-
the sword,

Which threatened to have filled the streets with blood,

I sheathed in peace; thy father, thou, and all The citizens, are safe, uncaptived, free.

Eud. Safe! free! O no-life, freedom, eve

ry good,

Turns to a curse, if sought by wicked means.
Yet sure it cannot be ! Are these the terms
On which we meet?-No; we can never meet
On terms like these; the hand of death itself
Could not have torn us from each other's arms
Like this dire act, this more than fatal blow!
In death, the soul and body only part,
To meet again, and be divorced no more;
But now-

Pho. Ha! lightning blast me! strike me,
Ye vengeful bolts, if this is my reward!
Are these my hoped for joys! Is this the wel-

If, in my heart's deep anguish, I've been forced Awhile from what I was-dost thou reject me? Think of the cause

Eud. The cause? There is no cause-
Not universal nature could afford

A cause for this. What were dominion, pomp,
The wealth of nations, nay, of all the world,
The world itself, or what a thousand worlds,
If weighed with faith unspotted, heavenly truth,
Thoughts free from guilt, the empire of the mind,
And all the triumphs of a godlike breast,
Firm and unmoved in the great cause of virtue?
Pho. How shall I answer thee?-My soul is
awed,

And, trembling, owns the eternal force of reason.
But, oh! can nothing then atone, or plead
For pity from thee?

Eud. Can'st thou yet undo

The deed that's done; recal the time that's past?
O, call back yesterday; call back last night,
Though with its fears, its dangers, its distress:
Bid the fair hours of innocence return,
When, in the lowest ebb of changeful fortune,
Thou wert more glorious in Eudocia's eyes,

Than all the pride of monarchs! But that deed | Pho. No more- -thou waken'st in my tortur

ed heart

The cruel, conscious worm, that stings to mad

ness.

Oh, I'm undone !- I know it, and can bear
To be undone for thee, but not to lose theo.
Eud. Poor wretch!-I pity thee!-
-but art

thou Phocyas,
The man I loved!--I could have died with thee
Ere thou didst this; then we had gone together,
A glorious pair, and soared above the stars,
Bright as the stars themselves; and as we passed
The heavenly roads, and milky ways of light,
Had heard the blest inhabitants, with wonder,
Applaud our spotless love. But never, never
Will I be made the curst reward of treason,
To seal thy doom, to bind a hellish league,
And to ensure thy everlasting woe.

Pho. What league?—'tis ended-I renounce it-thus[Kneels.

I bend to heaven and thee- -O thou dívine, Thou matchless image of all perfect goodness! Do thou but pity yet the wretched Phocyas,

SCENE I.-An open Place in the City.

Heaven will relent, and all may yet be well. Eud. No-we must part. Twill ask whole years of sorrow

To purge away this guilt. Then do not think
Thy loss in me is worth one dropping tear :
But if thou wouldst be reconciled to Heaven,
First sacrifice to Heaven that fatal passion
Which caused thy fall-Farewell: forget the lost
-But how shall I ask that?—I would have said,
For my soul's peace, forget the lost Eudocia.
Can'st thou forget her?-Oh! the killing torture
To think it was love, excess of love, divorced us!
Farewell for still I cannot speak that word,
These tears speak for me-O farewell-

Pho. [Raving] For ever!

[Exit.

Return, return and speak it; say, for ever!
She's gone-and now she joins the fugitives.
And yet she did not quite pronounce my doom-
O hear, all gracious Heaven! wilt thou at once
Forgive, and O inspire me to some act
This day, that may in part redeem what's past!
Prosper this day, or let it be my last !

[Exit.

Dar. Forward-it looks as they had been forewarned.

By Mahomet, the land wears not the face
Of war, but trade! and thou wouldst swear its

merchants

Were sending forth their loaded caravans
To all the neighbouring countries.

Cal. [Aside.] Ha! this starts

A lucky thought of Mahomet's first exploit,
When he pursued the caravan of Corash,
And from a thousand misbelieving slaves
Wrested their ill-heaped goods, transferred to
thrive

In holier hands, and propagate the faith.—
'Tis said, [To Dur.] the emperor had a wardrobe
here
Of costly silks.

Dar. That too they have removed.

Cal. Dogs! infidels! 'tis more than was allowed.

Dar. And shall we not pursue them-Robbers! thieves!

That steal away themselves, and all they're worth, And wrong the valiant soldier of his due!

Cal. [Aside.] The caliph shall know this-he shall, Abudah;

This is thy coward bargain-I renounce it.
Daran, we'll stop their march, and search.
Dar. And strip-

Cul. And kill.

thee

Dar. I knew my general would not suffer this; Therefore I've troops prepared without the gate, Just mounted for pursuit. Our Arab horse Wili in few minutes reach the place; yet still I must repeat my doubts-that devil Phocyas Will know it soon-I met him near the gate; My nature sickens at him, and forebodes I know not what of ill.

Cal. No more, away

With thy cold fears-we'll march this very instant,

And quickly make his thriftless conquest good: The sword too has been wronged, and thirsts for blood. [Exeunt. SCENE II-A valley full of tents; baggage and harness lying up and down amongst them. The prospect terminating with palm trees and hills at a distance.

Enter EUMENES, with Officers, Attendants, and crowds of the people of Damascus.

Eum. [Entering] Sleep on-and angels be thy guard-soft slumber

Has gently stole her from her griefs awhile; Let none approach the tent-Are out-guards placed

On vonder hills? Offi. They are.

[To an Officer.

Eum. [Striking his breast.] Damascus, O— Still art thou here !—Let me intreat you, friends, To keep strict order: I have no command, And can but now advise you.

1st. Cit. You are still

Our head and leader.

2d. Cit. We resolve to obey you.

3d. Cit. We are all prepared to follow you. Eum. I thank you.

The sun will soon go down upon our sorrows, And 'till to-morrow's dawn this is our home: Meanwhile, each as he can, forget his loss, And bear the present lot-

Offi. Sir, I have marked

The camp's extent: it is stretched quite through the valley.

I think that more than half the city's here. Eum. The prospect gives me much relief. I'm pleased,

My honest countrymen, to observe your nuinbers;

And yet it fills my eyes with tears-'Tis said
The mighty Persian wept, when he surveyed
His numerous army, but to think them mortal;
Yet he then flourished in prosperity.
Alas! what's that?--Prosperity!--a harlot,
That smiles but to betray! O shining ruin!
Thou nurse of passions, and thou bane of virtue!
O self-destroying monster! that art blind,

Then plungeth down some precipice unseen,
And art no more!—Hear me, all-gracious Heaven!
Let me wear out my small remains of life,
Obscure, content with humble poverty,
Or in affliction's hard but wholesome school,
If it must be I'll learn to know myself,
And that's more worth than empire. But, O
Heaven,

Curse me no more with proud prosperity!
It has undone me !-Herbis! where, my friend,
Hast thou been this long hour?

Enter HERBIS.

Herb. On yonder summit,

To take a farewell prospect of Damascus.
Eum. And is it worth a look?
Herb. No-I've forgot it.

All our possessions are a grasp of air:
We're cheated whilst we think we hold them
fast:

And when they're gone, we know that they were nothing.

But I've a deeper wound.

Eum. Poor, good old man! 'Tis true-thy son-there thou'rt indeed unhappy.

Enter ARTAMON. What Artamon!-art thou here, too? Art. Yes, sir.

I never boasted much of my religion, Yet I've some honour and a soldier's pride; | I like not these new lords.

Eum. Thou'rt brave and honest.

Nay, we'll not yet despair. A time may come, When from these brute barbarians we may

wrest

Once more our pleasant seats.-Alas! how soon
The flatterer, Hope, is ready with his song
To charm us to forgetfulness!--No more-
Let that be left to Heaven-See, Herbis, see,
Methinks we've here a goodly city yet.
Was it not thus our great forefathers lived,
In better times-in humble fields and tents,
With all their flocks and herds, their moving
wealth?

See too, where our own Pharphar winds his

stream

Through the long vale, as if to follow us,
And kindly offers his cool, wholesome draughts,
To ease us in our march!-Why this is plenty.

Enter EUDOCIA.

My daughter-wherefore hast thou left thy

tent? What breaks so soon thy rest?

Eud. Rest is not there,

Or I have sought in vain, and cannot find it.
Oh no-we're wanderers, it is our doom;
There is no rest for us.