Sethona: A tragedy. As it is performed at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- PROLOGUE.

- EPILOGUE.

- ADVERTISEMENT.

- Dramatis Personae.

- ACT I.

- ACT II.

- ACT III.

- ACT IV.

- ACT V.

- PRINTED FOR T. BECKET.

SETHONA. A TRAGEDY.

FINIS.

SETHONA. A TRAGEDY. AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL IN DRURY-LANE.

LONDON: Printed for T. BECKET, the Corner of the Adelphi, in the Strand. MDCCLXXIV. [Price One Shilling and Six-pence.]

PROLOGUE.

Written by Mr. CUMBERLAND.

Spoken by Mr. REDDISH.

IN classic times, as learned authors say,

When Greek or Roman wits produc'd a play,

The herald Prologue, 'ere the sports began,

Fairly stept forward, and announc'd the plan:

In few plain words he ran the fable through,

And, without favour, publish'd all he knew.

An honest custom: for the plan was clear,

The scene was simple, and the Muse sincere;

No tawdry fashions warp'd the public taste,

The times were candid, and the stage was chaste.

Can we expect, in these enlighten'd days,

A courtly age should hold such vulgar ways?

Or that a blabbing prologue should disclose

Scenes, which no Muse of fashion ever shows.

No, Sirs,—Sethona is the lady's name—

She lives at Memphis—of unsullied fame:

A Tyrant woo'd her—but she lik'd another,

And once 'twas fear'd her lover was her brother.

As for the rest, a little patience borrow,

The Chronicle will tell you all to-morrow.

Authors are now so over modest grown,

They publish all men's writings, but their own.

But let no living bard conceive offence,

Nor take the general in a partial sense.

Peace to all such! the lab'ring bee must feed

From flow'r to flow'r; perchance from weed to weed;

And should the comb unwelcome flavour yield,

The fault's not in the fabric, but the field;

The critic wasp, mean while upon the wing,

(An insect fraught with nothing but a sting)

Disturbs th' inaustrious hive, for malice sake,

Marring that honey, which he cannot make.

An absent bard, engag'd in distant war,

This night appears by proxy at your bar:

As o'er Arabia's wilds he took his way,

From sultry Ormus and the realms of day,

His active mind, superior to its toil,

Struck out these scenes upon the burning soil.

No cooling grottoes, no umbrageous groves,

To win the Graces, and allure the Loves;

No Heliconian fount wherein to dip,

And slake the burning fever on his lip;

Before him all is desart, waste, and dry,

Above him flames the tyrant of the sky;

Around his temples gath'ring whirlwinds fight,

And drifts of scorching dust involve the light:

Oh, snatch your Poet from impending death,

And on his shrine we'll hang his votive wreath.

EPILOGUE.

Written by Mr. GARRICK.

Spoken by Mrs. BARRY.

AS it is prov'd, by scholars of great fame,

That Gipsies and Egyptians are the same;

I, from my throne of Memphis, shift the scene,

And of the Gipsies, now step forth the Queen!

Suppose, that with a blanket on my shoulder,

An old strip'd jacket, petticoat still older,

With ebon locks, in wild disorder spread,

The diadem, a clout about my head;

My dingy Majesty here takes her stand,

Two children at my back, and one in hand;

With curtsey thus—and arts my mother taught,

I'll tell your fortunes, as a Gipsey ought:

Too far to reach your palms—I'll mark your traces,

Which fate has drawn upon your comely faces;

See what is written on the cutward skin,

And from the title page, know all within:

First, in your faces[*] I will mark each letter—

Had they been cleaner I had seen 'em better;

Yet through that cloud some rays of sun-shine dart,

An unwash'd face oft veils the cleanest heart.

That honest Tar, with Nancy by his side,

So loving, leering, whispers thus his bride,

" I love you Nancy, faith and troth I do,

" Sound as a biscuit is my heart, and true;

" Indeed, dear Johnny, so do I love you."

Love on, fond pair, indulge your inclination,

You ne'er will know, for want of education,

Hate, infidelity, and separation—

Some Cits I see look dull, and some look gay,

As in Change-Alley they have pass'd the day,

City Barometers!—for as stocks go,

What Mercury they have, is high or low.

What's in the wind which makes that Patriot vere?

He smells a contract or lott'ry next year;

Some Courtiers too I see, whose features low'r,

Just turning patriots, they begin to sour;

What in your faces can a Gipsey see?

Ye Youths of fashion, and of family!

What are we not to hope from taste, and rank?

All prizes in this lottery?—Blank—blank—blank—

Now for the Ladies—I no lines can spy

To tell their fortunes—and I'll tell you why;

Those fine-drawn lines, which would their fate displey,

Are, by the hand of fashion, brush'd away;

Pity it is, on beauty's fairest spot,

Where nature writes her best, they make a blot!—

I'd tell our Author's fortune, but his face,

As distant far as India from this place,

Requires a keener sight than mine to view;

His FORTUNE can be only told by YOU.

Notes

*
To the Upper Gallery.
↵

ADVERTISEMENT.

COLONEL DOW, when he sailed for India, left the following Tragedy in the possession of Mr. GARRICK. The event has shewn, that the reputation of an absent author could not have been trusted in safer hands. He spared no expence as a manager, no pains as a man of taste. The Scenery is strictly characteristical, and highly picturesque. The Dresses are magnificent and expensive, the Parts cast with great judgement; and the whole conducted with that regularity and ease, which can only be attained by a thorough knowledge of the Drama, and the business of the Stage. Mrs. BARRY, possessed of every power to touch, to penetrate, to dissolve the heart, exerted them in a degree that astonished while it pleased the audience. Mr. BARRY was judicious, chaste, and pathetic in Seraphis. Mr. REDDISH, spirited, and full of fire, in Menes. In their respective parts, the two AICKINS deserved and received great applause. Ample justice was done by Mr. PACKER, and others, to the rest of the characters. The public, and the author, are indebted to Mr. CUMBERLAND, for an elegant and classical Prologue: And to Mr. GARRICK, for one of the best Epilogues that ever was pronounced from the stage.

Dramatis Personae.

SERAPHIS, King of Egypt,

Mr. BARRY,

AMASIS, Usurper of the Throne of Egypt,

Mr. AICKIN,

MENES, next Male-Heir to the Crown,

Mr. REDDISH,

ORUS, High Priest of Osiris,

Mr. J. AICKIN,

OTANES, Governor of Säis,

Mr. PACKER,

MYRTAEUS, General of the Forces,

Mr. DAVIES,

OFFICERS,

Mr. WRIGHT, Mr. WHEELER, and Mr. KEEN.

SETHONA, Daughter of Seraphis,

Mrs. BARRY,

GUARDS, &c. &c.

ACT I.

SCENE, the Temple of OSIRIS, at MEMPHIS.

ORUS, the High Priest, sacrificing at the altar. SETHONA kneeling before the statue of OSIRIS.

SETHONA.

THOU pow'r divine! whose awful presence shakes

This sacred fane; if e'er thy pitying hand

Was stretch'd to helpless mortals in distress,

O now protect a weak defenceless maid,

From Amasis, whose hands are drench'd in blood,

The blood of Menes, dear-lamented youth!

And Seraphis, my father, Egypt's king.

ORUS. (advancing from the altar.)

Lo! the devoted victims are consum'd,

And all due rites of sacrifice perform'd,

Upon the altar of the great Osiris!

SETHONA.

Thou sacred prophet! whose enlighten'd mind

Pierces the shades of dark futurity,

What have the gods decreed? Am I condemn'd

To wed my father's murderer? The man

Who tore my destin'd husband from my arms,

Ev'n at the altar e'er the rites began,

And left me thus to sorrow, to despair.

ORUS.

Daughter of grief! Sethona! every hour

Changes the state of things. To day the sea,

Rous'd by the Northern wind, assails the sky,

And wears the face of ruin. E'er the morn

Unveils her eyes, it smooths its ruffl'd brow,

And holds a mirrour to the stars of heav'n.

SETHONA.

Orus, I owe this emblem of my fate

To thy humanity. What ray of joy,

Can pierce the deep, dark dwelling of my soul,

Where Menes lies entomb'd?

ORUS.

Time will unfold

More than thy hopes could cherish. Know, this night,

This present hour, is pregnant with events,

To me in part reveal'd.

SETHONA.

Ha! what events?

The dimest shade of hope, in grief like mine,

Fancy may work to comfort.

ORUS.

As I stood

Before the altar of Ammonian Jove,

In fervent meditation, I beheld

The tow'rs of Memphis tottering, and the Nile

Rushing thro' all her gates. I heard a sound,

As when the winds, contending in their caves,

Disturb the mountains; saw the shadowy lines

Of banner'd armies closing in the air.

Streaming with blood, a headless trunk appear'd,

Grasping a scepter. O'er him strode in steel

The warlike form of Menes. Last uprose,

Dim thro' the gleam of arms, a hoary head

Encircled with a gorgeous diadem:

It seem'd thy father!

SETHONA.

Seraphis! my father,

And Menes? hapless ghosts!

ORUS.

Peace to their shades!

'Twas but a vision of the mental eye,

Th' unbodied semblances of future things,

And not departed spirits.

SETHONA.

Hope begins

To dawn upon me. In thy words I feel

The force of inspiration. Yet my grief

Succeeds, like darkness to the transient gleam

Of some deluding meteor! Can the tomb

Give up its dead? Can Menes hear my voice,

And rescue me from the detested arms

Of Amasis? Can Seraphis restore

The long extinguish'd glories of his line?

Can I forget my sorrow? Idle dreams!

ORUS.

And yet, such dreams may take substantial forms.

Three days have not elaps'd since from this fane

Menes was torn by Amasis, as yet

No certain tidings of his fate are known:

Tho' fame reports his death. To-day his friend,

Noble Otanes, by the king's command

From Sais came, where he hath govern'd long,

Averse from courts, with dignity and fame;

Worthy his high desent from Egypt's kings.

SETHONA.

Oh, might I see him, e'er the Tyrant's rage

Destroys his sacred life.

ORUS.

Fear not his rage.

The fate of Menes has already rais'd

A storm in Memphis, that may shake his throne.

Otanes, on his entrance, has received

The highest honours by a subject borne.

Enter MYRTAEUS. (Orus retires to the altar.)

MYRTAEUS.

Prepare the nuptial rites. The king approaches.

SETHONA.

Alas, Myrtaeus! whither shall I fly?

Who can protect me! innocence is weak,

And tears, like the cold chrystal drops in caves,

Can only serve to petrify the heart

Of Amasis.

MYRTAEUS.

His soul is fierce, but love—

SETHONA.

Speak not of love, from Amasis, nor think

So meanly of my virtue, of my faith,

And firm affection for departed Menes.

Tho' dead, his image dwells within my soul,

And leaves no room for others,—all my joys

Were grafted on him. Now the tree is fall'n,

And I am left to wither on the ground.

MYRTAEUS.

Recal not thus the mem'ry of the dead,

Nor rend the veil which nature kindly draws

Between us and the tomb; and yet my soul,

When thou complain'st, seems covetous of grief.

I could sit down and listen to thy tale,

Devour each piteous circumstance of woe,

And mourn with thee for ever.

SETHONA.

Oh! Myrtaeus!

He was a friend most worthy of thy tears:

Humane, susceptible of the distress

Of others, but unshaken by his own.

Gentle in peace, but terrible in war,

As the rude blast, that from our desart pours,

Dark with the fate of armies.

MYRTAEUS.

Ah! forbear;

You pierce my very soul.

SETHONA.

O, could I fly

To some brown desart, far remov'd from man,

And in the shade of some poor lonely tree,

Beside a ling'ring stream, in silence sit,

And muse from morn to eve, from eve to morn.

Or tell my sister of the sky, that wanes

With me apace, the story of my woe;

There undisturb'd, I might devour my grief,

Like some sad ghost, that nightly sits alone,

Pale, bending o'er the slowly twinkling flame

Of a decaying meteor.

(flourish of trumpets,

MYRTAEUS.

'Tis the king!

SETHONA.

Whither shall I resort? Amid my foes

I stand alone, unpitied and forlorn!

[Exit Sethona.

Enter AMASIS attended.

AMASIS.

Why flies Sethona? Now the voice of mirth

Resounds thro' Egypt, and propitious stars

Combine to bless this hour?

MYRTAEUS.

At thy approach

She suddenly withdrew, tears in her eyes

Her looks expressing anguish and despair.

AMASIS.

The mere caprice of women, still afraid,

Or seemingly afraid of what they wish,

They fly but to delude—

MYRTAEUS.

She sighs and talks

Of love and Menes, in such mournful strain,

As fills each eye with sympathetic tears.

She will not hear of comfort. Time, perhaps,

And gentle means, may sooth her mind to peace,

But force might now be fatal.

AMASIS.

Fear not that.

Inform the princess we attend her presence.

MYRTAEUS.

Too well she knows it.—

[Exit Myrtaeus.

ORUS. (descending from the altar.)

Sovereign of the Nile!

Let not my words offend—The gods forbid

The solemn rites. Whilst, in my hand, I held

The victim's heart it burst, and on the ground

Dissolv'd away!

AMASIS.

Then let another bleed!

ORUS.

Dare I advise, the nuptials were delay'd

Till some propitious idle hour of peace:

For whilst the Ethiopian in his wrath

Threatens invasion, fame and glory call

For deeds of arms: and dost thou yield to love?

AMASIS.

Presumptious priest! thy sanctity, thy age,

And all those mystic symbols of thy god,

Shall not protect thee:—speak the omens fair!

ORUS.

O King! 'tis not for mortals to belie

The sacred will of heaven. The earth itself

Teems with uncommon births. The tombs appear

Deserted by their dead. The air is fill'd

With sounds; the streets with unsubstantial forms.

Great Ammon's helmet nods upon his brow,

Whilst he declares ambiguous oracles,

And frowns on Egypt.

AMASIS.

Let him shroud the sun

In tenfold darkness, shake the solid earth,

Subvert the broad-bas'd pyramids; disclose

The oozy bottom of the frighted Nile,

My purpose stands unmov'd. Then hence, away:

Let my commands be oracles to thee;

And Ammon may be silent.

[Exit Orus.

Enter SETHONA and MYRTAEUS.

AMASIS.

How long, Sethona, wilt thou arm those eyes

With cold disdain against me? Thus how long,

At awful distance, must I breathe my vows

Of love and constancy? The hour is come,

The nuptial feast prepar'd, and yet thou shun'st

My longing arms, as if contagion sprung

From every touch.

SETHONA.

My looks have not deceiv'd!

My soul detests thy person and thy name.

Hast thou not been the scourge of all my race?

The bane of all my joys? and can'st thou hope

Returns of love for unexampl'd wrongs?

AMASIS.

Forgive the past. The gods themselves forgive—

I have been much to blame. But if sincere

Repentance—If the pangs of keen remorse

Could e're attone for guilt, I stand absolv'd

And hope for thy forgiveness.—Hope for more,

Thy love—For which alone I risqu'd my life,

And dar'd perdition!

SETHONA.

Ha! it is a crime

To listen to thy words.—I'll hear no more.—

My love is not for thee. The guilty thought

Wou'd shake this sacred temple, and profane

The presence of the gods.—The shades of night,

The midnight hour of silence, the dark tomb

Of Seraphis my father, the long line

Of ancestry, that darkly rest in death

Within the sacred pyramids; on these

My melancholly soul delights to dwell:

There let me wander and indulge my woes.

AMASIS.

Can unavailing sorrow sooth the dead?

Deep are their slumbers, deaf their ear to woe!

Or did their spirits hover round—can joy

Arise from our distress? Can those they lov'd

Afford them pleasure by incessant tears?

Then weep no more!—Mount thou thy father's throne!

Egypt shall yield her sceptre to thy hand,

And Africk's nations bend beneath thy sway.

SETHONA.

Could'st thou enthrone me, 'midst the stars of heav'n,

And say, the world that rolls beneath thy feet,

And all these splendid orbs around, are thine,

I would reject them, as the price of guilt,

Though press'd with all the miseries of life.

AMASIS.

Enough of argument! Know then this hour

Shall make thee mine; shall bend thee to my arms;

Shall change these haughty frowns, and vain complaints;

To gentle smiles and murmurings of love.

SETHONA.

Then know my soul, amidst my ruin'd state,

Maintains the dignity of Egypt's kings;

Looks down upon thee.—Threats to me are vain.

My soul contemns them all!

AMASIS.

By Egypt's gods,

Thou'rt sovereign of my heart! the full extent

Of all my wishes!—High, in regal state,

Thou shalt command the nations. Princes, kings,

The Nile, the ocean, to thy feet shall bring

Their yearly tribute. Still my soul shall dwell

On thy perfections. Love shall crown our days

With joy, with transport—

(seizing her.

SETHONA.

Spare me, Amasis!

I beg not for my life. I wish to die:

But if my tears, my prayers can move thy heart,

O let my wearied soul forsake the world,

In all its native innocence.

AMASIS.

Arise,

Arise, Sethona! Dost thou think my love

A spark, to be extinguish'd by a tear?

A flame, to be blown out with sobs and sighs?

A soft impression, melted by the breath

Of pity? No—And wouldst thou not despise

Such cold affection? Soon, within my arms,

Thy strange aversion shall be chang'd to love,

And thou shalt wonder at thy own perverseness.

SETHONA.

No—never! never!

AMASIS.

To the altar!

SETHONA.

Here—

Here let me perish—

AMASIS.

Thus I bear thee hence!

SETHONA.

Inhuman man! to-morrow—

AMASIS.

No—this hour—

This moment!

SETHONA.

Tyrant—I will not betray

My faith to Menes!

AMASIS.

Menes is no more!

SETHONA.

Then grant this hour to grief—

AMASIS.

Thou plead'st in vain;

In vain thou striv'st—away—

SETHONA. (fainting.)

O Menes, Menes!

AMASIS.

Ha! whence this paleness? This is no deceit:

The blood retires. A transitory death

O'erwhelms her senses.—Bear her to our halls!

[Amasis and Attendants lead her out.]

Enter MENES suddenly, ORUS following.

ORUS.

Menes, forbear!

MENES.

It was Sethona's voice!

ORUS.

Rash youth! thy frenzy ruins all our hopes.

MENES.

As well thou might'st oppose the bolt of Jove,

Wing'd with his wrath. Away—lest in my rage

Thou too should'st perish.

ORUS.

Tread on my grey hairs,

I will not quit thee. Wherefore would'st thou rush

On certain death, and, in an evil hour,

Destroy the work of years, the fruit of all

Our expectations? Let not rage prevail—

A certain death, without revenge, attends

Thy rashness. Stay, this night, this very hour,

May crown thy hopes.

MENES.

This moment fills my soul

With mortal anguish. In a state like mine

It were a crime to listen to the voice.

Of prudence.—Wherefore thus obstruct my course?

Since full revenge is my determin'd aim,

Trust to my conduct.

ORUS.

Whilst this storm of rage

Darkens thy reason, hence thou shalt not stir.

Dost thou despise my council?—Hast thou lost

All reverence for my friendship, for my age,

And sacred function? Is the life I saved

Unworthy of thy gratitude—thy care?—

Young man, this frenzy suits not with thy fame.

A nobler passion now demands thy sword:

Egypt, amidst her tears, looks up to thee,

Her only hope! Not Amasis alone

Must perish, Tyranny itself must fall.

MENES.

What noble purpose labours in thy mind?

I stand prepar'd. Orus, command my sword,

My life, my fame; but first let me behold

Sethona. In this moment of despair,

She may be lost for ever!

ORUS.

Danger lies

Between thee and thy wishes: Yet to calm

This tempest of thy soul, a faithful slave,

At my request, shall quickly guide thy steps

Through the deserted passage, form'd of old

By kings, who lov'd in secret to approach

The gods. But let not idle dreams of love

Ensnare thee by delay. With speed return

To hear, to execute a great design.

MENES.

Whate'er thy wisdom plans, is deem'd by me

The will of heav'n.

ORUS.

Too long thou tarry'st here.

This is no place of safety. Moeris soon

Shall lead thee to Sethona. In thy cell

A moment wait. By my command, the slave

Shall there attend thee.

MENES.

Nearest to the gods!

To thee I trust to save a dearer life

Than this which now I owe thee. To direct

My steps to glory, to revenge; to rouse

The warlike genius of our native land;

Arm'd with the wrath of heav'n to crush the pow'r

Of Amasis, and level in the dust

Those massy fabricks, which his pride has rais'd.

[Exit Menes.

ORUS, alone.

O that this night were past! and Seraphis

Again established on his ancient throne!

'Till then, I must not tell this gallant youth,

His high descent; that he, as Sethos' son,

Is nephew to the king, and Egypt's heir.

His headlong fury breaks through my designs.

I must invent some scheme to check his rage,

And stop the progress of his ill-tim'd love,

'Till from his throne usurp'd the tyrant falls.

Why stays Otanes thus? Conspiracies,

Like thunder clouds, should, in a moment, form

And strike, like lightning, 'ere the sound is heard.

END of the FIRST ACT.

ACT II.

SCENE, SETHONA's Apartment.

SETHONA. Entring in terror.

SETHONA.

HE finds no rest in death! It bore the form

Of Menes! Dimly he arose thro' night!

He stood in silence! He pursues my steps!

Here I am left alone! My voice of grief,

Invades his dark repose! Again—he comes!

Enter MENES.

Thou awful shade, retire!

MENES.

Away with fear!

SETHONA.

'Tis he!—'Tis he himself!

MENES.

My soul's delight!

Once more I clasp thee to my panting breast.

This, this is more than joy!

SETHONA.

Where hast thou been?

MENES.

Compose thy mind a while—

SETHONA.

Since thou art safe,

Why should I question farther?

MENES.

Thou shalt hear,

But let not grief affect thy tender mind,

Or throw a damp upon this hour of joy.

SETHONA.

Of joy, indeed! That gives me back my love!

Where hast thou been? Oh, Menes, tell me where?

I will be calm—but let me hear it all.

MENES.

That day, on which we stood before the gods,

With willing vows, to consecrate our loves,

The tyrant's guards assaulted me unarm'd,

And tore me from Osiris and from thee.

Thro' paths unknown, they led me to a cell,

Cast me in chains; then raising from the floor

A pond'rous marble, to my view disclos'd

A dark deep pit, a dreary sepulchre!

Headlong they threw me down, to dwell with night,

Famine and horror, solitude and death!

SETHONA.

O dreadful state!

MENES.

Cold, bruis'd, disconsolate,

With fetters gall'd, with mortal anguish torn,

I say, resign'd to destiny.

SETHONA.

Ye gods!

MENES.

Then rising up, I crept along the walls,

From place to place, and often in my arms,

Embrac'd th' embalm'd dead! Thro' many a cell

I wander'd cheerless. When a hollow sound

Roll'd murmuring thro' the tombs. I wish'd again

For silence—by degrees the noise approach'd—

SETHONA.

Approach'd!

MENES.

And soon a ray of livid light

Shot thro' the darkness. Then a form appear'd,

That seem'd not mortal, clad in vestments pure

As heav'n's meridian beam. His beard was white,

And pale his aged visage, faintly seen

By the blue taper, in his trembling hand.

Tow'rd me he mov'd; then claspt me in his arms,

And welcom'd me to liberty and life.—

I knew him then for Orus.

SETHONA.

Happy sight!

What brought him thither?

MENES.

Oft, at dead of night,

He visits his great ancestors. Releas'd

From all my chains. I trod his cautious path.

Thro' winding ways, he led me to the fane

Of great Osiris. Where I scarce had stood

An hour conceal'd, when by thy voice alarm'd

I rush'd to save thee!

SETHONA.

Still my fears intrude

Upon my joys. Is Amasis inform'd

Of thy escape from death?

MENES.

He knows it not.

SETHONA.

How cam'st thou hither? Didst thou pass unseen, Unknown by all?

MENES.

My steps to thee were led

By faithful Maeris.

SETHONA.

We're betray'd and lost!

He, with the times, has chang'd. Our sorrows all

Proceed from Maeris. When before the gods

We pledg'd our vows of love, to Amasis

He bore the grateful secret, and receiv'd

The price of perfidy. While yet I speak,

Thy late escape is to his ear convey'd.

This fatal hour the tyrant's vengeance falls

Again upon thee, Menes! Thou must fly,

And leave me to my fate.

MENES.

Thou do'st not mean

To wound my honour in the tenderest part,

By the proposal of a deed so base?

It must not be—Our fate has made us one,

And what but death can part us?

SETHONA.

Blame me not,

If my affection and my fears advis'd

The only means of safety.

MENES.

Trust the gods,

Nor think of danger.

SETHONA.

Think not that I fear,

The utmost rage of stern adversity,

Whilst thou art left. With thee I could be bless'd,

Wreck'd on a pointed solitary rock,

Tho' loud thro' night the spirits of the storm

Howl'd on the hoary deep.

MENES.

That smile alone

Wou'd calm the tempests rage. Where'er thou art,

There dwells my joy. A ray divine is pour'd

From heav'n around thee, Sympathy of soul,

And finer feelings than the plant that shrinks,

From the light contact of an insect's wing,

Distinguish thee—

Enter an OFFICER, with a Guard.

OFFICER.

The king commands that Menes may be seiz'd,

For crimes of treason.

SETHONA.

Ruin! Death ensues!

MENES.

For treason? Hence! or this my sword—

SETHONA.

Alas!

OFFICER.

Put up thy sword. Thy rashness nought avails.

MENES.

'Tis better now to die in arms, than fall

Defenceless, unreveng'd, by bloody slaves,

That murder in the dark. I will not yield.

Retreat, or perish.

OFFICER.

Rush upon him—

MENES.

Death

Awaits the man who dares advance—

SETHONA.

O heaven!

O Menes, yield!

OFFICER.

Why grasp ye thus your swords,

Yet look so pale? the orders of the king

Are death, shou'd he resist.

MENES.

Then welcome death!

When dire necessity presents the choice,

Of death, or of dishonour.

Enter OTANES and interposes.

OTANES.

Sheath your swords!

OFFICER.

Then must Otanes answer to the king

For Menes.

OTANES.

Soldier, hence!

OFFICER.

Thy power must stand

Between us and his rage.

OTANES.

It shall—away—

[Exit Officer.

MENES.

Otanes!

OTANES.

Prop of my declining years!

Restor'd to bless my arms!

MENES.

Restor'd to prove

New cause of sorrow.

OTANES.

Fear it not, the gods

Are our protectors: Why in tears, Sethona?

SETHONA.

Didst thou not see these ministers of death?

OTANES.

Give wing to hope. She cannot soar too high,

In this decisive moment of thy fate.

But Amasis may come. A while retire,

I must confer with Menes. Banish fear;

Our last resolves shall be convey'd to thee.

SETHONA.

Thy words restore me from the wild abyss

Of horror and despair. May all the gods

Confirm thy hopes and prosper thy designs.

[Exit Sethona.

OTANES.

Menes, thou know'st that with paternal care

I rear'd thy infancy and train'd thy youth

To arms; with joy, from year to year, beheld

Thy ardent spirit kindling, as it flew,

To deeds of glory. Often in the field

I prov'd thy courage. Now the time is come

To prove thy fortitude. Thou must resign

Sethona to the king; or instant death

Awaits thy disobedience.

MENES.

Ha! what means

Otanes? Yield Sethona! prove, at once,

False to my vows, a traitor to my love,

Detested, lost, dishonour'd! He that once

Falls, in his own opinion, falls indeed!

But he, that's conscious of his virtue, stands

Unmov'd, the pressure of an adverse world.

OTANES.

Menes, in any other cause but this,

Such noble sentiments I would approve;

But love awhile, must give a place to deeds

Of death or fame. This night I mean to raise

A King in Egypt, and subvert the throne

Of the usurper.

MENES.

Shall it be to night?

OTANES.

To night. The enterprize is plann'd and ripe

For execution.

MENES.

When the tyrant falls,

Say, who shall reign in Egypt?

OTANES.

Seraphis?

The lov'd, the lawful sovereign of the land;

Whose virtues equal his descent divine;

And, through the cloud of his misfortune, dart

A ray of glory round him.

MENES.

Seraphis!

What do I hear? he perish'd in the Nile!

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OTANES.

So Fame reports. But still the monarch lives.

To-day from Ethiopia, in disguise,

He is return'd. There long he lay conceal'd,

A hermit in the desert. Stand prepar'd.

Our friends already fit their armour on,

And grasp their swords, with elevated hopes

Of glory and revenge! At my request,

Ciphrenus, who commands the eastern gate,

Fronting the royal palace, will admit

A powerful squadron, that, out flying Fame,

Advance from Säis. Orus, too, convenes

Some bold conspirators, within the walls.

MENES.

Where do they meet in arms?

OTANES.

At Ceops' tomb!—

Enter AMASIS, (suddenly.)

AMASIS.

Is Menes not in chains?

OTANES.

O King, forgive

A crime that sprung from error, not design.

AMASIS.

From error—no! his crude ambition points

At Egypt's throne in fair Sethona's right.

OTANES.

He ne'er could cherish such ambitious hopes,

A youth of humble name.

AMASIS.

Whence is he sprung?

OTANES.

His sire in Seraphis's court was train'd,

A man of virtue, though to fame unknown.

The gods bear witness, how my soul abhors

This fatal union. When, at Säis, first

His private purpose reach'd mine ear, to thee

With speed the fatal secret I convey'd.

AMASIS.

Thou didst, Otanes, and by that confirm'd

Thy prudence and unshaken faith to me!

Yet such a crime, in Menes, merits death.

OTANES.

May I not plead!—

AMASIS.

Away, tis all in vain.

With fraudful arts, he won Sethona's soul:

Sethona, whom we lov'd and long design'd

To grace our royal bed, to reconcile

The minds of factious subjects to our throne.

MENES.

I lov'd Sethona! she return'd my love;

Now she is mine, by all the holiest vows,

And would not violate, her plighted faith,

To share thy throne!

OTANES.

Menes, what rage!—

AMASIS.

Is thine!

Thy insolence!—thy folly!

MENES.

Art not thou

The guardian of the laws? And not the rod

Of vile oppression.—'Tis not meet that kings

Shou'd break the chain, by which they bind mankind

And shew the world examples of injustice.

AMASIS.

Presumptuous man!—this instant let him die!

MENES. (putting his hand to his sword.)

Away! ye slaves or death—

OTANES. (aside.)

All,—all is lost!

O Menes, Menes! thou hast ruin'd all.

Remember, ah! remember. Yield thy sword

(aloud)

Dar'st thou oppose thy sovereign? Dar'st thou raise

Thy sword against Otanes?

MENES.

I submit.

My life is in thy hands

AMASIS.

Let him be led

To publick execution. Let mankind

Learn from his fate, their duty to the throne.

(Menes is carried off.

OTANES. (kneeling.)

My king! my sovereign, hear me!

AMASIS.

Cease old man!

Would'st thou avoid our rage, forbear to plead

The cause of treason. Hence! I'll hear no more!

[Exit.

OTANES.

Confusion! ruin! his unbridled rage

Has drawn the tyrant's vengeance on his head,

'Ere all our friends are arm'd. What now remains?

Enter SETHONA.

SETHONA.

Gone, gone for ever! They have torn him from me!

Hark! was not that his voice?

OTANES.

I heard it not.

SETHONA.

It is! it is!

OTANES.

No whisper stirs the air;

Thy grief perverts thy senses. Still the pow'r

Is thine to save him.

SETHONA.

Ha! what power is mine?

OTANES.

Consent to wed the king.

SETHONA.

To wed the king!—

OTANES.

His death shall free thee, 'ere the nuptial rites

Can be perform'd: A bold conspiracy

Is pointed at his life. This hour he falls!

SETHONA.

This very hour! ye gods!

OTANES.

Confide in me.

Feign full submission; on thy knees implore

His clemency. Thy honour shall remain

Safe and inviolate.

SETHONA.

Thy plot may fail!

OTANES.

It rests with thee.

SETHONA.

With me it shall not rest.

Enter AMASIS.

AMASIS.

What dost thou here, Sethona? why in tears?

Why art thou thus the constant prey of grief,

When joy prevails around?

SETHONA.

Why dost thou ask?

Oh, pardon Menes! spare him, Amasis!

Or give me instant death.

AMASIS.

They death to me

Were more supportable than thy disdain.

SETHONA.

Then 'tis decreed: The hour that Menes falls,

Shall be my last.

AMASIS.

This tempest of my soul,

Which you, like some malicious goddess, rais'd

To wreck my peace, shall overwhelm you both,

Since you must sink together.

(going.)

OTANES, (aside.)

Sooth his rage;

Menes must perish, all our schemes must fail,

Should'st thou not flatter him with hopes of love.

SETHONA.

Still hear me, Amasis!

AMASIS.

Of this no more.

SETHONA.

Alas! what happiness can'st thou propose

By hastning my compliance: Time might work

A change in my affections. Generous minds

Disdain a cold return; and still derive

Their greatest joys, from those which they confer.

AMASIS.

Persuasive woman! Know my pride, that brooks

Not opposition, fires my bosom more

Than all thy boasted charms; nor can the flame

Be quench'd but with his blood. Haste, let him die!

SETHONA, (kneeling.)

Stop, cruel man! O, Amasis, revoke

The fatal sentence! let thy heart relent,

I will be grateful.

AMASIS.

It is now too late:

The power is mine.

SETHONA.

Then use it like the gods,

In mercy.

AMASIS.

In the punishment of crimes!

SETHONA.

Is there no hope?

AMASIS.

No—none!

SETHONA.

What would'st thou have?

AMASIS.

I ask thee nothing.

SETHONA.

Am I then so poor,

So abject in thine eyes?

AMASIS.

No more!—arise.

Leave me, Sethona!

SETHONA.

Dost thou mean to stain

Thy nuptial hour with murder?

AMASIS.

Urge me not,

'Tis weakness thus to hear thee.

SETHONA.

On that hour

Dost thou refuse one poor request!

AMASIS.

Command

The wealth, the power of Egypt.

SETHONA.

Wealth and pow'r

Will now avail me nothing. Are thy fears

So great? Does Menes—

AMASIS.

Fears! We know no fears;

Protected by our valour, by our pow'r,

Our mind remains unshaken as our throne.

Once more to gratify thy will, to shew

Our just contempt of Menes, set him free.

(to his guards)

Nay, let him join the foe, dispute the field.

Then shalt thou see, that Amasis excels

(to Sethona.)

Alike in arms, in honour and in fame.

Call Menes hither.

(to his guards)

OTANES.

Wherefore shou'd the king

Thus condescend! His madness, his despair

May still insult thy clemency—

AMASIS.

Away!

Let him approach.

OTANES.

Sethona, leave this place.

Yield to the pressure of the present hour.

Bend to the tyrant's wrath. Seem to consent.

Obey my words. Depart.

SETHONA.

How hard to feign

In love like mine! He comes—

Enter MENES.

AMASIS.

Bold youth, advance.

Sethona, yielding to our love, redeems

Thy life, but fly beyond our spacious realms,

Or we revoke our mercy.

MENES.

Speak, Sethona!

She turns from me in silence. Bear me back

To death.

[Exit Sethona.

AMASIS.

Thy doom is fix'd. Thou'rt banish'd from this hour.

Sethona wills it, and her will is fate.

Guards, bear him hence, without the palace gates

Strike off his chains—and shou'd he loiter here—

By all the gods, that guard our throne, he dies.

[Exit.

MENES.

Am I awake? Undone. Forever lost!

O woman, born to change! are these her vows?

A desperate purpose labours in my breast;

I'll blast their rites, throw death amidst their joys,

And whelm'd beneath the ruin, leave my woes.

END of the SECOND ACT.

ACT III.

SETHONA's Apartment.

Enter MENES.

MENES.

THIS secret path, which led me once to joy,

Now ministers to vengeance. From the fane

Unseen, unheard, I have emerg'd to light,

Like some disastrous pow'r on dark designs,

What doubt remains? O jealousy! I feel,

I feel thy serpent-tooth! Thou torturing fiend!

Thy rage some dreadful sacrifice demands.

Enter ORUS.

ORUS.

Menes, why tarry here? Our gallant friends,

Already met, now grasp their eager swords,

To free devoted Egypt. Thee they call

To lead them on.

MENES.

Away, I claim no aid

To favour my revenge: No tedious forms

Of war, or slow conspiracy. My wrongs

Arise, like armies, round me. This my sword

Shall quickly dash the tyrant's hopes of joy.

ORUS.

What frenzy fires thy mind, when thousands wait

To join their valour and their hopes with thine?

MENES.

Whilst they prepare, my purpose must be lost,

The tyrant triumphs in Sethona's love.

My swelling soul some enterprise demands,

Great with uncommon danger, longs to rush,

And pour the tyrant's blood around his throne.

ORUS.

Some demon, hostile to our cause, inspires

Thy frantic mind to ruin all our hopes;

To quit the certain prospect of revenge,

And give Sethona to the tyrant's arms.

MENES.

Ha! name her not. To thee I owe my life.

Oh! shew me now the noblest path to death.

Preserve my fame—myself thou must not save.

ORUS.

Then join thy friends. It is the noblest path

To fame, the surest to obtain revenge.

Lead on the war. Let conduct be combin'd

With valour. Amasis, tho' unprepar'd,

Has great resources in his active breast,

And fortitude approv'd.

MENES.

The boldest course

To vengeance is the best. The glorious shock

Of arms, to which thy cooler counsel leads,

Is suited to my soul. I'll join our friends,

And lead the battle, 'till these lofty towers,

These palaces, these temples of the gods,

Shall mark the greatness of my rage with ruin.

[Exit Menes

ORUS.

As yet an hour remains. The nuptial rites

Are not begun. I fear his headlong rage

Will drive him on, e'er the appointed time,

E'er all our friends, like long imprison'd winds,

At once from different quarters, rushing forth

Begin destruction. Ha! what aged form

Moves slowly hither? Do my eyes deceive?

Or is it Seraphis? Defend him, gods!

Enter SERAPHIS.

O king, beware! Alas, what weighty cause

Provokes this danger?

SERAPHIS.

Shall my only hope

Be thus dishonour'd? Shall she meanly stoop

To wed the base usurper of my throne?

No: rather let destruction whelm our house,

And leave no monument of their disgrace

In Egypt.

ORUS.

Seraphis, thy friends are arm'd.

The nuptials must proceed. The festive hour

Will favour our designs, and banish thought

From the pervading mind of Amasis.

Menes advances. On his sword depends

At once our fortune, and thy daughter's fate.

Retire to safety.

SERAPHIS.

Yet this very hour,

Perhaps this moment, hurries her along

To foul dishonour. Shall I offer up

So fair a victim, for a doubtful point

Of policy? like some devoted prey,

Shall she be thus deserted, to allure

The savage to our toils? shall not my eyes

Behold her, e'er the busy hand of death,

May close them up for ever?

ORUS.

Yet my fears.

Should Amasis—

SERAPHIS.

No danger shall withhold

My steps from where my honour, where my fame

Demand my presence. In this low disguise,

This sacred character, that finds access

Unquestion'd to the privacy of kings,

I will approach Sethona, will preserve

My child from Amasis, and stand prepar'd

To join my friends, when their victorious arms

Approach.

ORUS.

All ye gods, preserve,

Protect my sovereign! I will soon convey

Thy high commands to Menes.

[Exit Orus.

SERAPHIS.

Guide my steps,

Thou great Osiris!

Enter SETHONA.

SETHONA.

Lost! I am betray'd,

Press'd to the verge of ruin, cover'd o'er

With guilt, with shame, with horror, with remorse,

Deserted, sunk, forlorn!

SERAPHIS. (aside.)

It is my child!

My daughter!

SETHONA.

Wherefore do I drag this life

Of misery, as if I fear'd to die;

Or that the deep dark mansions of the grave

Cou'd not afford a refuge from my woes.

I will not tarry here. Ha! who art thou?

SERAPHIS. (aside.)

This bosom tells me—

SETHONA.

Venerable sage!

Intrude not on my sorrows. Now I hold

No converse, or with wisdom or the wise,

Despair and terror, solitude and grief,

Are my companions.

(going.)

SERAPHIS.

Yet with patience hear—

SETHONA.

Who talks of patience in the ear of grief?

But recommends the good we cannot find.

Ah! whither shall I fly? Who can protect

My innocence?

SERAPHIS.

The gods.

SETHONA.

The gods, alas!

Have left me to my woes.

SERAPHIS.

Art thou not soon

To be a queen?

SETHONA.

To be no more.

SERAPHIS.

Alas!

I dare not blame thee.

SETHONA.

Wherefore dost thou weep?

The scourge of years, thro' this detested world,

Has not depriv'd thy tender heart of pity.

SERAPHIS.

Too much I feel.

SETHONA.

Does not thy age afford

A refuge from affliction?

SERAPHIS.

None. These hairs

Have long been whitening in the winds of heav'n,

Yet now I bend beneath a load of care,

That still augmenting sinks me to the grave.

SETHONA.

O, could I give thee comfort.—Thou art poor.

Fortune has left me nothing.

SERAPHIS.

Yet on thee

My only hope depends.

SETHONA.

Take, take my all,

My pity—

SERAPHIS.

'Tis too much—give me thy hand

That I may bless thee. All ye gracious powers,

Look down!—

SETHONA.

Thou good old man, why thus partake

In my affliction? Wherefore gaze upon me?

SERAPHIS.

Such was thy mother's beauty in her prime.

SETHONA.

My mother!

SERAPHIS.

Yes—thy mother!

SETHONA.

Didst thou know

The queen of Egypt?

SERAPHIS.

Ah! this bosom still

Retains her image.

SETHONA.

In thy poverty,

I might have read our fortune. Thou hast serv'd

My father to thy ruin!

SERAPHIS.

Can'st thou fold

A secret in thy breast?

SETHONA.

A secret!

SERAPHIS.

Yes.

Call forth thy resolution.

SETHONA.

Ha! What strong

Emotions swell thy breast?

SERAPHIS.

My heart will burst.

SETHONA.

Why dost thou tremble?

SERAPHIS.

All my strength has fail'd.

SETHONA.

The weight of years is on thee. Small my strength,

Yet thou shall be supported, poor old man!

SERAPHIS.

Come to my arms, thou dearest to my soul,

I am—

SETHONA.

Who art thou? Speak!—

SERAPHIS.

It is too late.

(Flourish)

SETOHNA.

Unfold thyself.—Thou shalt not thus depart.

Enter AMASIS and OTANES.

AMASIS.

Sethona, still in tears? Why this delay?

With whom dost thou so earnestly confer?

Who and from whence art thou?

OTANES.

Distraction! ruin!

(aside)

His name is Pheron.

AMASIS.

Some divining priest,

Charg'd with false oracles.

SETHONA.

Upbraid him not,

His only crime is poverty, which throws,

In such a venerable form, reproach

On thee and fortune. Pheron I wou'd speak

With thee in secret.

AMASIS.

When the god of love

Is hovering o'er the altar, and prepares

To crown our vows with joy? Lead on.

SETHONA.

In vain

Thou striv'st to bear me hence. My soul is mov'd

By this unhappy stranger. He has serv'd

My father. Pheron, tell me all thy tale.

OTANES.

He may attend to-morrow—

SETHONA.

No, Otanes!

A virtuous deed should never be delay'd.

The impulse comes from heav'n, and he who strives

A moment to repress it, disobeys

The god within the mind.

SERAPAIS.

Now, bent with age,

And creeping to my grave, my wants are few,

But not the less my gratitude.—To me,

My own reflections prove a full reward,

For all the good that threescore years and ten,

Have put within my power; nor do my crimes

Darken my eye of life.

AMASIS.

From whence art thou?

SERAPHIS.

That day on which inconstant fortune fled

The standard of the king, wedg'd in the flight

Of an inglorious squadron, I was borne

Unwillingly from death.—The burning climes

Of Ethiopia have been since my home;

At length desirous of a quiet grave

Among my kindred, in my native land,

I ventur'd to return, and now resign

Myself with joys to the decrees of heav'n.

AMASIS.

His looks appear familiar to my eyes,

Nor seems his voice unknown.

SERAPHIS.

In former times,

I was not here a stranger.

OTANES. (aside.)

Now my fears

Press hard upon me—Gods!

AMASIS.

Art thou not sent

From th' Ethiopian camp, to spy the state

Of Memphis?

SETHONA.

Nothing wounds an honest mind,

Like undeserv'd suspicion.

AMASIS.

He recals

The memory of thy father.

OTANES.

All is lost!

(aside.

SETHONA.

The memory of my father! let me trace,

Those venerable features that recal

The sad remembrance of the best of kings.

AMASIS.

Thousands beheld him sinking in the Nile,

And yet I could suspect—

Enter MYRTAEUS. (hastily.)

MYRTAEUS.

O king, thy slave

Has an important secret for thine ear.

AMASIS.

Thou shalt be heard—Otanes, lead him hence,

In secret question him, and search his soul.

[Exit.

SETHONA. (to Otanes.)

Befriend the hapless. To the ag'd be kind.

Pity demands of thee, with double claim,

To save this guiltless stranger from his foes.

[Exit.

AMASIS. (advancing with Myrtaeus.)

Speak, brave Myrtaeus!

MYRTAEUS.

A conspiracy,

This hour is form'd against thy crown and life.

While yet I speak they come.

AMASIS.

Ha! who are these

Who league with Ethiopia? Dare the slaves

Whom favour rais'd, rebel against their Lord?

MYRTAEUS.

The dark design, in partial whispers came

This instant to mine ear.—Some daring chiefs

Are arming round the palace, and conspire

To place some other sovereign on the throne.

AMASIS.

Haste, rouse the strength of Memphis. Let our guards

Be chang'd; the traitors seiz'd; the gates secur'd;

A chosen squadron of our bravest troops

Reserv'd to guard us.

MYRTAEUS.

'Tis already done.

Enter an OFFICER.

OFFICER.

To arms, to arms! the f•es already shake

The pow'r of Memphis, bear our squadrons down.

And now advance, with Menes at their head.

AMASIS.

What force remains?

OFFICER.

Some troops are still in arms.

AMASIS.

And so is Amasis. We lead them on.

[Exit.

Enter SETHONA.

(Thunder and shouts at a distance.)

SETHONA.

O what a night of horror! now the moon

Is darkn'd in eclipse. The air is fill'd

With streaming meteors. Murm'ring thunder rolls.

The broad firm earth shakes with the tread of hosts,

That murder in the dark. The groans of death

Roll on the winds of heaven. Ye gods, look down,

Protect our cause! Let Menes' sword prevail

(shouts increase.)

Again! It is the storm of war and death!

Who can survive the conflict?

Enter ORUS. (in terror.)

ORUS.

All is lost!

SETHONA.

Speak; tell me all!

ORUS.

Our friends retreat:

SETHONA.

Alas!

ORUS.

I fear, I fear, the aged king is slain!

SETHONA.

What aged king?

ORUS.

Thy father, Seraphis!

SETHONA.

My father! Whether does thy frenzy lead,

To tell me now, what many years have told?

ORUS.

This very instant he led on the war.

SETHONA.

Thy fears distract thee!

ORUS.

Yes, my fears are great,

But I possess my reason. Seraphis,

Thy father, liv'd amid the strife of arms,

This hour, in Memphis. Long he lay conceal'd

In Ethiopia, thence of late return'd

In poverty's disguise, to fall, in age,

By the victorious arms of Amasis.

SETHONA.

Is nature chang'd? Or do my senses stray

In the wild mazes of a troubled dream,

Where all is wonder? Woe succeds to woe!

The dead mix with the living, and the work

Of years is crouded in a single hour:

It cannot be! Alas, too sure I wake!

O that I now could sleep to wake no more!

ORUS.

Ye gods of Egypt, soothe her mind to peace!

SETHONA.

The aged hermit was the king himself!

My father Seraphis! O had I known

That, on my knees I might have kiss'd his feet,

And have receiv'd the blessings of a parent.

All—all is silent—Menes too has fall'n!

My fate is dark around me. Farewel, Orus.

[Exit Orus.

Forsaken, unprepar'd, weary of life,

Oppress'd with woes, above my failing strength,

My limbs will not support me. O'er my eyes

A cloud of darkness falls. The hated world

Fades on my sight. The clay-cold hand of death

Is heavy on my heart. Here let me rest,

(falls on a couch.

And take my leave of sorrow. Sacred light!

Ah! whether dost thou fly! Depart, ye shades,

Croud not upon my soul!

(faints.

Enter MENES.

MENES.

My coward friends are fled. Dishonour, shame,

And ruin follow them. Ha! there she lies!

She seems to sleep. Despair, revenge, inspire

My soul with deadly rage. Do odours breathe

From such a poisonous plant? Does innocence

Pour divine radiance on the face of guilt?

She smiles! She dreams of joy! I'll turn aside

My eyes, least courage fail. I cannot err—

O that the deed were done!—

My hand shakes, my limbs totter, the warm blood

Already streams upon me. At my heart,

I feel the dagger's point. Horrid revenge!

Give, give me resolution.

SETHONA. (recovers.)

Menes! Ha!

A dagger—strike!—

MENES.

Call—call not back to light

These sinking furies.

SETHONA.

In those deadly frowns,

Those looks of horror, I perceive my fate;

Thy adverse fortune. Amasis prevails.

Strike. Save my honour, and thy own.

MENES.

Thy honour!

SETHONA.

Now I am lost indeed! Let thy revenge,

Thy rage, have scope. I have deserv'd it all!

MENES.

Dost thou repent!

SETHONA.

Alas! the gods themselves

Can grant me nothing, when condemn'd by thee;

Then give me death.

MENES.

What! didst thou not consent

To wed the tyrant?

SETHONA.

Ha! to wed the tyrant?

Could'st thou suspect me of that base design?

Alas, I've lov'd in vain! To save thy life,

I feign'd submission to the tyrant's will;

My purpose gain'd, I meant to lose my own.

MENES. (throws away the dagger, and kneels.)

O that my death could half redress thy wrongs!

Throw, spurn me from thy feet! my guilt, my crimes,

Exceeds forgiveness! horror, rage, remorse,

Torment a wretch, unworthy to possess

Virtue, that seems to emulate the gods!

SETHONA.

Menes, arise! I know thou wert deceiv'd!

MENES.

Dost thou embrace me?

SETHONA.

Never more to part.

MENES.

No, never more! Then let me lead thee hence,

Through the loud tumult of this fatal night,

To the dark caves of death; those dreary cells,

Where Egypt's monarchs lie. There all our friends

Retreat for safety.

SETHONA.

I will follow thee,

As if the gods of Egypt led the way.

Protected by thy arm, I know no fear;

But where thou art not, terror whelms my soul.

END of the THIRD ACT.

ACT IV.

SCENE, the CATACOMBS.

SERAPHIS.

THIS is the house of death! The dreary tomb

Of Egypt's ancient kings! What now remains

Of all their glory, but these mould'ring piles,

And these imperfect, mutilated forms

Of what they were? The period of my fate

Will soon be clos'd. An undistinguish'd blank,

Perhaps succeeds. What then? To know it not,

Is not to be unhappy. Yet the soul

Looks thro' the gloomy portal of the grave,

To happier scenes of immortality.

O let not such a pleasing hope be vain!

Eternity, thou awful gulph of time,

This wide creation on thy surface floats.

Of life—of death—what is, or what shall be,

I nothing know. The world is all a dream,

The consciousness of something that exists,

Yet is not what it seems. Then what am I?

Death must unfold the mystery!

Enter OTANES.

OTANES.

My king!

SERAPHIS.

My friend, Otanes.

OTANES.

Still misfortune pours

Her storms upon us. What remains?

SERAPHIS.

To die!

OTANES.

Be that the last resource of our despair.

Some friends surrounds us.

SERAPHIS.

Vain are all our hopes.

When, in full sail, conspiracy receives

An unexpected shock, it splits, it sinks,

To rise no more!

OTANES.

Tho' death has thin'd our ranks,

Thousands remain.

SERAPHIS.

Those lions, that had broke

Their chains to range at large, now trembling, hear

Their keeper's voice; and diffident of strength,

Crouch to the lash. My hopes are all cut off

In Menes. O had I beheld my son!

OTANES. (aside.)

'Tis well. He knows not that he has no son.

Orus has nought disclos'd. His state requires

The secret shou'd be kept.—He still survives,

[To Seraphis.

Like the immortal spirit of a storm,

Who stirs with joy the elements to war,

And strides amidst the ruin!

SERAPHIS.

Still a ray

Of joy descends on my departing hour.

My son displays the spirit of his race,

Still braves his adverse fortune, and pursues

A glorious death, while we stand loitering here

To meet the most ignoble.

Otanes, let us hence, and meet the fate

That best becomes our dignity and fame.

OTANES.

Dispose of me; and yet our post is strong;

Thro' Memphis, thousands will assert thy cause

And hasten to thy rescue.

SERAPHIS.

Shall a king!

The race of heroes, honour'd as divine,

Be dragg'd in fetters, thro' a scoffing croud;

Cast in some filthy dungeon, there to die

Of rage, or lengthen'd torture, or indulg'd

To fall by bafe assassins? Much I owe

To thee, Otanes; for thy loyalty;

Thy firm adherence to a failing cause;

Thy care of Menes, in his tender years;

Yet all hath prov'd in vain. My wayward fate

Involves my friends in ruin.

OTANES.

I have done

No more than duty and the state requir'd,

And should I fall, I fall in the support

Of justice. 'Tis the noblest fate of man!

[Noise without.

SERAPHIS.

Our foes advance. Let me have done with doubt.

I must not be the last to meet my death;

As if I fear'd to quench the ling'ring flame

Of an expiring life.

OTANES.

I will explore

The cause of this alarm

[Exit Otanes.

SERAPHIS. (Noise continues.)

My fame receives

A wound, at every stroke. The time has been,

When I could bear my armour with more ease.

Nor seem'd this sword so heavy in my hand.

But tho' my body feels the frost of age,

When danger threatens, or when glory calls,

Some youthful vigor still inspires my soul.

[going.

Re-enter OTANES.

OTANES.

Our efforts all are vain; the foe has seiz'd

The gate, and rushes on us! 'Tis too late!

SERAPHIS.

Otanes, no! 'Tis ne'er too late to die,

But when we live to shame. One last resource

Remains to man, when fortune frowns the most,

One general refuge from the ills of life.

My remedy I grasp. This faithful friend

Shall set me free.

(offers to stab himself.

OTANES.

O stop thy frantic hand.

What means my lord, my king?

Enter MYRTAEUS with his party, who disarm him.

MYRTAEUS. (To Seraphis.)

So old a traitor must not thus escape.

Another death awaits.—Ha! who art thou?

SERAPHIS.

The king of Egypt! Seraphis!

MYRTAEUS.

so great,

So bold, and so unfortunate! My eyes

Belye my recollection, if to me

Thou art not known, by a much dearer name,

Tho' not so lofty. Pheron!

SERAPHIS.

Thou art not

Deceiv'd.

MYRTAEUS.

Thus on my knees let me embrace

Those holy feet, that led me to thy cave,

And sav'd my life, from famine and the foe,

When banish'd to the desart.

SERAPHIS.

Rise, Myrtaeus!

I well remember thee in thy distress,

Thou seest me now in mine.

MYRTAEUS.

And thus my heart

Speaks gratitude.—The life thy bounty sav'd,

The light thy dictates pour'd upon my soul,

Are now at thy command. Forgive the past,

And trust my future conduct. Whilst I thought

That fate had number'd thee among the dead,

I yielded to the pressure of the times,

And bow'd to Amasis. But now thou liv'st,

I mean to serve thee, with a zealous heart,

As my protector and my lawful king.

SERAPHIS.

My noble friend! I fear thy valour now

Will nought avail. Our troops are all dispers'd,

And Memphis pours her armies round the throne

Of the usurper. All our hope is flight.

MYRTAEUS.

It must not be. Should'st thou desert our walls

Thy cause is ruin'd. Here thy name alone

Is more than armies. The command I bear

Is great. My late discovery of the plot,

Gives Amasis unbounded confidence

In my affections. Here thou may'st be safe,

Conceal'd within the cave? whilst I attempt,

By promises and arguments, to draw

The troops from their allegiance. Thou, Otanes,

Safe in my conduct may'st instruct thy friends

That range without a leader, where to meet

And wait my further orders, to renew

The daring enterprize.

SERAPHIS.

Thou counsel'st well;

The bold succeed the best. 'Tis now no time

To play a game of caution. Fortune loves

Her ravisher. We must not fear her frowns,

But bind her to our purpose.

BOTH.

We obey.

[Exeunt.

SERAPHIS, alone.

My hope once more emerges from the cloud

Of my distress. The moment that appear'd

Charg'd with the execution of my fate,

Brought safety. Ha! I hear the tread of feet

This way approach. Perhaps it is the foe.

Here in the dark recesses of the cave,

I will be safe.

(Goes into the tomb.

Enter SETHONA.

SETHONA.

Is this th' appointed place? No friends are here,

But my departed ancestors, that feem

To becken me to their eternal rest!

O Menes, Menes! Wherefore wouldst thou rush

Amidst the foe, nor suffer me to share

Thy danger and thy death. How dreadful seems

This moment of suspence? But hark! A groan!

I fear to listen. These dim lamps expire!

I shall be left in darkness! Something stirs,

Within the cave! Who 'ere thou art, appear—

It comes! Art thou the living or the dead?

Substantial form or mock'ry of the brain?

Why mov'st thou thus in silence?

Enter SERAPHIS,

SERAPHIS.

Let not fear—

SETHONA.

Approach me not!—Who art thou?

SERAPHIS.

I am he!

That gave thee life.

SETHONA.

My father, or my God?

SERAPHIS.

Thy father!

SETHONA.

Seraphis!

SERAPHIS.

The same; the same;

Come to my aged arms, my lovely child!

SETHONA.

My father!—O my father!

SERAPHIS.

Let not joy

O'erwhelm thy tender soul. Why dost thou weep?

SETHONA.

Alas! I know not why; yet think my tears,

Are not the tears of sorrow. Let me lean

Upon thee. Never did my head before,

Recline upon a father's breast.

SERAPHIS.

Perhaps,

It never may again.

SETHONA.

Short was my dream

Of joy. I wake and see a shoreless sea,

Of trouble round me.

SERAPHIS.

Still we grasp a reed

Of Egypt's broken strength. Does Menes live?

SETHONA.

His fate's uncertain! Striving to escape,

We met the foe. Conjuring me to fly,

He stopt and fought; though many were the swords,

That gleam'd around him.—If he lives some god

Must yield protection. But my fears—

SERAPHIS.

I owe

Much to his valour; though he knows me not.

Should I succeed, I mean to make him king.

If not, the grave will prove the whole extent

Of our dominions.

SETHONA.

Menes well deserves

The highest pitch of greatness, bears a soul,

That from its native ardour, still aspires

To that perfection, which enables man

To mix with the immortals. How my heart

Exults with joy, to hear my father thus

Approve my choice and sanctify my love.

SERAPHIS.

Thy choice! thy love! explain thy words—

SETHONA.

Alas!

Thy looks condemn me! yet, my heart declares

My innocence.

SERAPHIS.

I hope it does!

SETHONA.

My fears!

Again arise!—yet why should I deny

What I esteem my greatest happiness,

By love, by fate impell'd, I pledged my vows—

SERAPHIS.

To whom?—

SETHONA.

To Menes.

SERAPHIS.

Horror! fly my sight.

SETHONA.

What have I done to merit every woe,

The wrath of heav'n can pour upon my head?

Is he not worthy?

SERAPHIS.

Most unfit for thee.

SETHONA.

If I have fail'd in duty take my life;

And, with my blood, blot out my crime; nor thus

With words, more sharp than daggers, pierce my soul.

SERAPHIS.

I must unfold—

SETHONA.

Ha! what wouldst thou unfold?

SERAPHIS.

A dreadful secret, which thou ought'st to know.

SETHONA.

O tell me what it is—

SERAPHIS.

That Menes—

SETHONA.

What of Menes

SERAPHIS.

Is thy brother.

(Sethona faints.)

I've been too rash,

The time was most improper. Hark! what sound

Comes ecchoing through the tombs! Against the wall

I see the shadow of an armed man.

Revive, Sethona! O my child, revive!

I must convey her to my dark retreat.

(leads off Sethona.

Enter MENES.

MENES.

I saw some ruffian bear Sethona hence,

As if he were her murderer. Tenfold night,

The deepest grave, the mansions of the dead,

Shall not conceal—shall not defend—he dies!

He dies if he is mortal.

(rushes into the tomb.)

Who e'er thou art, come forth—

SERAPHIS.

Rash man, forbear!

SETHONA. (within.)

O Menes! spare my father, spare the king—

MENES. (re-entering.)

Forth to the light.

SERAPHIS.

Remorse pursues the deed.

MENES.

Who art thou?—

SERAPHIS.

Seraphis, the king, thy father.

MENES. (throwing away his sword.)

The king! ye gods—thus prostrate at thy feet,

Let me implore forgiveness.

SERAPHIS.

Rise my son—

I do forgive thee. Come to my embrace.

Enter SETHONA. (from the cells.)

MENES. (going to embrace her.)

She lives—she lives!

SETHONA.

Away! avoid my arm.

MENES.

What means Sethona? What has Menes done?

Thou dearest to my soul!—

SETHONA.

Speak not of love—

MENES.

Not speak of love!

SETHONA.

Thy father will explain—

Thou art—

MENES.

Thy husband. Seraphis approves;

And calls me son—

SERAPHIS. (embracing him.)

My son indeed! my hope!

MENES.

Thou art too kind, what merit can discharge

This gratitude I feel? what words excuse

My love, that dar'd presumptuously to rise

To thy fair daughter? I had cause to fear

Thy high displeasure, but thou giv'st me all,

Without her there is nothing.—

(Noise without.)

Ha! behold,

The tyrant comes. My sword—

AMASIS and a party rush in.

ATTENDANT. (taking up the sword of Menes.)

It now avails thee not.

AMASIS.

The gods are still

The friends of valour, none deserves to wear

A crown who can't defend it. In thy age

Attempts thou, what thy youth cou'd not perform?

We have a cell for hermits.

MENES.

Faithless man!

Dost thou exult in villainy?—'Tis not

Thy valour, but thy fortune that prevails;

And if thou dar'st to doubt it, render back

My sword and try thy courage, with my youth;

Nor meanly thus, with vaunting tongue, insult

The venerable dignity of age.

AMASIS.

Audacious traitor! Dost thou hope to fall

By royal hands? It is the task of slaves

To punish such as thee.

MENES.

Thy fears prevail.

Twice didst thou shun me in the ranks, withdraw

Behind the shields of braver men, who paid

The price of life to save thee.

AMASIS.

Bear him hence,

And let his burning frenzy cool in chains.

His tortures shall be equal to his crimes.

(guards seize Menes.

MENES.

Yes, bear me hence!—A coward ever finds

A subterfuge from danger. King of Egypt,

And thou fair mourner o'er a father's woes,

Farewel for ever!

SETHONA.

Yet a moment stay—

Behold my death—Relentless tyrant, here,

Here, plunge thy sword.—It was the lightnings flash,

(looks distractedly.)

The earth is rent, the wide abyss unfolds;

Deep, deep and raging.—Roll me in the skirt

Of that descending cloud! I see thee not—

O Menes! Seraphis! ye will not leave

Your poor Sethona!

MENES.

Tyrant! see—behold!

The ruin thou hast made.—The furies sleep!

The bolt has fall'n from the right hand of Jove.—

The voice of thunder is not heard in heav'n.

Farewel for ever!—Oh my king!—my love!

Bear me to death. The rack itself appears

A place of slumber. In the last extreme,

One object of ambition still remains

With the exalted mind—it is to die

With fortitude

(Menes is carried off.

AMASIS.

Be Seraphis secured;

And bear Sethona to our royal halls.

SETHONA.

Fear not the tyrant. Thou art Egypt's king.

They come! they come! Thy grey hairs will defend—

Thou seest them not—thy eyes are dim with age.

Raise not your bloody hands. Away, away!

Pity my father. He is weak and old—

They shall not kill thee, whilst I clasp thee thus—

(embracing Seraphis.

AMASIS.

Tear them asunder—

SERAPHIS.

Tyrant! though I meant

With just contempt, without a word or groan,

To bear thy utmost tortures, and support

With dignity, the rigour of my fate.

Yet thou hast found a way to make my heart

Pour forth its anguish. Hast thou no remorse,

Thus to oppress me with a father's grief?

Give me thy tortures, yet if justice dwells

Among the gods, the vengeance due to guilt,

Shall fall on thee.

AMASIS. (to his Guards.)

Haste, force them from this place.

SERAPHIS,

Tyrant! the power is thine. But still I scorn

Thy utmost efforts. Come to my embrace,

My poor unhappy daughter—Now, farewell!

SETHONA.

Hold, cruel men! ye shall not tear me hence.

Leave me! they pull too hard. He is my father!

Alas, we part for ever!

SERAPHIS.

Child belov'd!

We part to meet again. Thy tender soul,

Already on the wing, prepares for flight.

Soon shalt thou join my spirit as it flies,

And leave behind thy anguish and thy woes.

[They are both carried off.]

AMASIS.

These rigours dire necessity demands.

But still, though wild ambition steels my heart,

I feel some pangs of nature at their grief.

Fool that I am!—Compassion to my foes

Is cruelty, perdition to myself!

This feeble fit is vanish'd with the scene,

And all the vigour of my soul returns.

[Exit.

END of the FOURTH ACT.

ACT V.

SCENE, the court before a PRISON.

AMASIS.

O Royalty! What joys hast thou to boast,

To recompence thy cares? Ambition seems

The passion of a god. Yet, from my throne

Have I with envy seen the naked slave

Rejoicing in the music of his chains,

And singing toil away; and then, at eve,

Returning peaceful to his couch of rest.

Whilst I sat anxious and perplex'd with cares;

Projecting, plotting, fearful of events:

Or like a wounded snake, lay down to writhe,

The sleepless night, upon a bed of state.

But I am plung'd too far into the stream,

To gain the shore I left.—They both shall die.

Enter ORUS guarded.

GUARD.

O king, we found this priest amidst the foe,

Bearing aloft the image of his god;

Invoking heav'n, with prayers, to aid the cause

Of Seraphis. Encouraging his friends,

With prophecies and lying oracles,

And divinations fatal to his lord.

AMASIS.

His prophecies and vain portents we scorn;

False are his arts. Say, do the gods approve

Of treason?

ORUS.

Never; and for that the gods

Have disapprov'd of thee. A subject born,

A minister in trust; didst thou not seize

Thy master's throne by perfidy? Pursue

His life with rancour? Trample on thy foes,

And scourge the world as w••h the wrath of heav'n.

Rous'd by a nation's woes, this great revolt

I meditated long. My duty done,

I leave the rest to heav'n.

AMASIS.

Dost thou confess

Thy crime?

ORUS.

My virtue. When the aged king,

On thy revolt, amidst his flying host,

Was headlong borne into the Nile, and, there,

Suppos'd to perish. Of the ancient race,

Two infant princes were by me conceal'd;

In hopes, one day, I might restore the line.

The heir of empire, and the only son

Of Sethos, younger brother to the king.

One died in youth. The other still remains.

AMASIS.

Thou hoary traitor tell me where? Or death—

ORUS.

My lips are seal'd. Not prompted by my feare,

I spoke, but from the fulness of a heart,

Exulting in its enmity to thee.

AMASIS.

Prepare to feel the torture.

ORUS.

That I scorn.

The more I suffer in a virtuous cause

The more my glory. When we vanquish fear,

Tyrants may rage in vain! To me thy frowns

And menaces are triumphs.

AMASIS. (to his guards.)

Bear him hence,

And prove his fortitude•

ORUS.

When death awaits,

I wou'd not seem to linger.

[Exit Orus guarded.

AMASIS.

Well he bears

The weight of his misfortune. Seraphis

And Menes too must die. He still appear'd

Of doubtful origin. Perhaps the son

Of Sethos. Doubts are vain. 'Tis folly now

To trust to fortune. In these cells they lie.

(To his guards, two of whom enters the cells.

[A Storm. Thunder.]

Enter SETHONA, distractedly.

SETHONA.

Osiris thunders! yet the tyrant lives,

Whilst Seraphis and Menes are no more!

O that my spirit, like that transient beam,

Would take its course upon the veering winds.

AMASIS.

Why com'st thou thus, Sethona? Hence, retire!

SETHONA. (not observing him.)

It is the melancholy bird of night,

Perch'd on that mould'ring battlement, that screams

Her boding notes of woe. Ye hideous forms,

That dimly rise upon the night, and float

In the wild tempest of the troubled air!

Roll not your mournful voices on the storm.

Away! Your awful gestures are in vain,

All—all my fears are vanquish'd by my woes.

AMASIS.

She must not tarry here!

SETHONA.

What groan was that?

In that dark cell I heard the sound of chains.

This is my way! that taper shall direct

My steps. Ye awful spirits of my race,

I come to join you in your dark repose!

(going.

AMASIS.

Sethona, stop. Let me convey thee hence.

Why dost thou gaze upon the vaulted roof,

As if some god descended; or the heav'ns

Were open'd to thy view?

SETHONA.

The cloud is broke!

Behold him mounted on the cherub's wing!

His white beard streams in air! The red drops fall

Upon me! He was old! Hard was the heart,

And ruthless was the hand!

AMASIS.

She heeds me not!

Excess of grief has almost quench'd the light

Of reason in her mind.

SETHONA.

Was ever love

Like mine? Pale as the watry cloud his face!

Cold, cold his breast, and silent is his tongue!

His ruby lips! Sethona, like the bee,

Suck'd honey from the rose! I knew not then

He was my brother!

AMASIS.

How her frenzy burns.

It runs on Menes.

SETHONA.

When his bright eyes roll'd,

I look'd not at the sun; and when he spoke

My fingers dropt the lyre. This wound was death.

It bleeds! it bleeds! This breast was void of guilt.

Why do I weep? To-night I am the bride,

The bride of Amasis. These wedding robes

Will prove my winding sheet.

AMASIS.

Remorse begins

To fasten on my heart. I feel, I feel,

That guilt, like the envenom'd scorpion, bears

Its own death's sting. Her frenzy seems to add

New lustre to her beauty; and those eyes

Were not so piercing, when the milder beams

Of wisdom temper'd their resistless pow'r:

And yet the form alone remains. The light

Is gone, and, like the dim orb of the moon,

She labours in eclipse.

SETHONA.

Hark? Who art thou?

Give me thy hand.

AMASIS.

What would'st thou with my hand?

SETHONA.

Away, away! wash out these purple stains!

AMASIS.

It is too late.

SETHONA.

Too late! who murder'd them?

AMASIS.

Ha! how she probes my heart, where most inflam'd?

SETHONA.

Why do I tarry here? Let me behold

Their bleeding wounds!

[going.

AMASIS. (stopping her.)

It must not, shall not be!

SETHONA.

Tyrant away! My sorrows cure themselves,

And vanquish'd nature finds repose in death.

The fountain of my tears is dry, my eyes

Burn with the raging fever of my brain.

'Tis he! 'tis Menes! Oh, I follow thee!

Roll'd in that shadowy mantle, thou shalt bear

Sethona from her woes.

(rushes out.

Enter OFFICER hastily.

AMASIS.

What of him?

OFFICER.

His squadron's rushing onward, loudly call

For Seraphis and Menes.

AMASIS.

Thus I grasp

A sword that never fail'd of victory.

[Exeunt.

Enter SERAPHIS, and Guard from the prison.

GUARD.

No further order comes. I wait in vain—

The hour is past. The king must be obey'd!

SERAPHIS.

The king! behold thy king!—thy ancient lord,

Whom thou wouldst murder, soldier, well thou know'st!

The tyrant, Amisis, usurp'd my throne.

And yet thou serv'st him in a deed that draws

The dreadful vengeance of the gods upon thee.

GUARD.

The gods have plac'd me in the rank of slaves,

And 'tis my duty to obey that lord

Whom fate has set above me.

(noise without.

SERAPHIS.

Yet delay

A moment. Stop the hand of death. My hopes

Are not extinguish'd—Many are my friends

In Memphis.—Fortune suddenly may change

And thou shalt be rewarded.—

(noise continues.)

GUARD.

Certain death

Attends my disobedience. Haste, prepare

To die!—

SERAPHIS.

I have a message to convey

To poor Sethona.

GUARD.

'Tis too late—

SERAPHIS.

Ye gods receive my spirit!

MENES, rushing in between, in his chains, from another cell.

MENES.

Slay me first—

MYRTAEUS and his party rush in and interpose.

MYRTAEUS.

Forbear, assassin!

SERAPHIS.

Ha! my gallant friend!

MYRTAEUS.

My royal master! my beloved prince!—

Strike off their chains.

MENES.

Is Amasis alive?

MYRTAEUS.

I saw him not in battle.

MENES.

Still there's room

For me to share the glory—

Enter an OFFICER.

OFFICER.

Amasis

Puts all to flight.

MENES.

We soon shall stop his course.

Give me thy sword. The force of Memphis now

Shall not avail him. Whether does he turn

The tide of battle?

OFFICER.

From the brazen gate

He bursts upon us.

MENES.

We shall meet him there.

[Exit.

SERAPHIS.

Let us support the prince. Tho' Amasis

Is great in arms, our fortune may prevail.

The worst event will change a shameful death,

To one of glory in the front of war.

[Exeunt.

Enter SETHONA, from the other side of the stage.

SETHONA.

These are the cells of my departed race.

I find them not. In vain I search around,

What tomb conceals them? Whither are they borne?

O Menes! Menes! hear'st thou not my voice?

Sethona's voice, who comes, in her despair,

To mix the blood, that warms her heart, with thine.

Stretch forth thy pale hand, from that airy shroud,

And roll that cloud of sorrow from thy brow.

The blast of night is in my ears. The voice

Of dying winter does not thus complain.

Is there no rest for mortals in the tomb?

Think not I mean to tarry. He is gone—

He turns with horror from a sister's love!

A load of guilt lies heavy on my soul!

Enter AMASIS. suddenly.

AMASIS.

The gods descend in arms!—

Hurling their terrors, midst my flying host,

Blasting my glory!—Ha! behold the cause

Of shame, of ruin!—Wherefore should she live,

The joy, the triumph of my mortal foe?—

Prepare for death—

SETHONA.

Art thou so much my friend?

AMASIS.

Thy friend!—thy murderer—Ye gods! she smiles

Secure in her enchantments. What is man

When thus oppos'd? Disastrous star, that shed'st

Thy fatal influence o'er my life, thou fall'st!—

Thou fall'st! and darkness shall involve my soul.

SETHONA, kneeling.

Look down, Osiris, let my spirit find

Repose in death. O Menes, to thy rest

Receive Sethona, with a brother's love—

Strike here! Thou murderer of my race—behold.

AMASIS.

A bosom arm'd with more than temper'd steel.

Invulnerable beauty!—

SETHONA.

Ha, thy wrath

Thy bloody purpose I embrac'd with joy.

But now I fear thy pity. Grant me death,

Nor look upon me, but with deadly rage.

AMASIS.

Thy scorn demands it.—Fury steels my heart,

And vengeance points the dagger;—now thou dy'st,

A sacrifice to love,—revenge—despair!—

Enter MENES.

MENES.

Stop, murderer, stop—

AMASIS, quitting Sethona.

Advance, thou trembling slave!

MENES.

Perfidious man! In me behold a foe

That never turn'd from danger.—Were the strength

Of thousands on thy sword, my joy wou'd rise

To meet thee thus in arms.

SETHONA, retiring behind.

Thou pow'r supreme!

Protect our cause and thine.

AMASIS.

Vain boy, approach!

Words will no more avail.—

(they fight, Amasis falls.

MENES.

Thus perish traitors!

AMASIS.

Thou hast prevail'd. Receive thy valour's prize.

The man that conquers Amasis, deserves

His throne, nay more, Sethona's love.—My guilt—

My guilt o'erwhelms me. By no vulgar hand,

I die.—The gods by thee avenge my crimes—

[dies.

MENES.

The gods are just! Thou source of all my joys!

(advancing to Sethona.

SETHONA.

Hence, shun me, fly me, tear me from thy heart.

Revoke thy vows, lest the offended gods

Shou'd pour their fury on our guilty heads.

The bar of nature, and the wrath of heav'n,

Are plac'd between us.

MENES.

Ha! thy frenzy still!

SETHONA.

Yes, Menes, yes; my frenzy well may burn.

Yet now, by reason, I'm too well inform'd

Thou art too near allied to me in blood!

Did not thy father tell thee? Scraphis!

MENES.

Ha! what of Seraphis! My doubts arise.

Burst not my anxious heart. Reveal! reveal!

SETHONA.

Thou art—alas! how can I speak the name?

Thou art—my brother!

MENES.

Brother! All ye gods

Look down! What heavier curse remains in heav'n

To crush my wretched head? What powerful charm

Works on these new creations of the night,

And sets our jarring senses every hour

At variance? I am lost!

Enter SERAPHIS, MYRTAEUS, OTANES, and ORUS.

SERAPHIS.

This way the prince

Press'd forward on the soe. Advance with speed.

He leads to victory!

MENES. (shewing his breast.)

Here sheath your swords.

SERAPHIS.

The tyrant! stretch'd beneath the hand of death.

Now all is safe. Thy fortune has prevail'd.

MENES.

Yes, to my ruin!

SERAPHIS.

Ha! no wound appears!

MENES.

Within this bosom is a mortal wound.

I am thy son. Sethona is my sister.

ORUS.

Banish thy grief. No sister e'er was thine.

Thy birth, tho' long conceal'd, at length is known.

Thou art the son of Sethos.

MENES.

Sethos' son?

SERAPHIS.

I know it all. My brother's only child!

Sethona now is thine.

MENES.

Receive, ye gods!

The praise your goodness claims. Now joy returns,

And gladdens all my soul. Again, my love,

I may infold thee in these longing arms.

SETHONA.

O, Menes! heav'n, in this alone, repays

All, all our sorrows.

SERAPHIS.

Join your hands. The gods

Their choicest blessings show'r upon you both,

As the sun cherishes the subject world;

Or as the devious Nile dispenses joy

And plenty where it flows; so may your virtues

Diffuse bright happiness, o'er all the land.

MENES.

My king! my father! such I call thee now.

My lov'd Sethona!

SETHONA.

Now no tyrant lives

To bar our love. Osiris now assents.

SERAPHIS.

Arise, my children. Still I have a son!

Sethona too is safe. My joy is full.

Since, now, my day of life declines apace,

My daughter and my sceptre shall be thine.

Thy care, Otanes, shall direct his steps,

And make his kingdom flourish. Thou, Myrtaeus,

Vers'd in the business of the field, shall guide

His youthful valour. None of all our friends

Shall be ungratified. Nor shalt our foes

Repine at our success. To conquer seems

Less worthy of our glory, than to spare.

[Exeunt omnes.

PRINTED FOR T. BECKET.

- This Day is published, In two Volumes, Quarto, with a new and accurate Map, Frontispieces to each Volume, and several other Engravings. The 2d Edition, revised, altered, corrected and greatly enlarged. Price 1l. 10s. in boards.

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Information about this book

Title statement

Sethona: A tragedy. As it is performed at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane.

Dow, Alexander, d. 1779.

Publication

Distributor

University of Oxford Text Archive
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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4173

ID [isbn10]

1106011724

ID [isbn13]

9781106011725

ID [TCP]

K044879.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3310245093

ID [ECLL]

0152601700

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— Sethona: A tragedy. As it is performed at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane., Dow, Alexander, d. 1779.. [8],75,[1]p. ; 8⁰. London :: printed for T. Becket,. 1774.. [The advertisement gives the author's name as Colonel Dow.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT47972.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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