With one brave impulse, if ambitious bands Of foreign power should threaten. That ye will do this! Medon. Wherefore ask this now? Swear to me Thou shalt live long; the paleness of thy face, Which late seemed death-like, is grown radiant now, And thine eyes kindle with the prophecy Of glorious years. Ion. The gods approve me then! Yet I will use the function of a king, And claim obedience. Swear, that if I die Medon and others. We swear it! Ion. Hear and record the oath, immortal powers! Now give me leave a moment to approach That altar unattended. [He goes to the Altar. Gracious gods! In whose mild service my glad youth was spent, Look on me now; and if there is a power, As at this solemn time I feel there is, Beyond ye, that hath breathed through all your shapes In earth and heaven; to ye I offer up This conscious being, full of life and love, For my dear country's welfare. Let this blow Ion. Yes-is it as I hope? Irus. The pestilence abates. Ion. [Springs to his feet.] Do ye not hear? Why shout ye not? ye are strong-think not of me ; Hearken! the curse my ancestry had spread O'er Argos is dispelled! The offering is accepted-all is well! [Dies. Gerald Griffin. GISIPPUS; OR, THE FORGOTTEN FRIEND. PASSION hath its change of seasons, Sir; And 'twere as vain to hope eternal Summer, As an eternal faith. This is with you The Spring of courtship, which calls up the flowers, Find thy Elysium void! From the pale poet, To him the blustering terror of the field, Who sighed like Boreas, and who made love like war All, weary grown of the ignoble bondage, Look back with scorn upon the yoke they've spurned, And wonder how the silly toy had power To make them sin so palpably 'gainst wisdom. The Sacredness of Wedded Love. Gis. Here in these silent groves we will attend The lighting of the Hymeneal torch. How pure, how holy is the sacrifice, That waits on virtuous love! How sacred is That wanders nor decays. All soft affections, The ways of Providence inscrutable to Man. Let it be ever thus The generous still be poor-the niggard thrive- With silent and lethargic sufferance, Or lift his hands and ask Heaven for a reason? Our hearts must speak—the sting, the whip is on them; We rush in madness forth to tear away The veil that blinds us to the cause. The hand of that Eternal Providence In vain! Still holds it there, unmoved, impenetrable! and turn away again We can but pause, DAMON, condemned to death by DIONYSIUS, the Tyrant of Syracuse, obtains permission to take a Farewell of his Wife and Child, through the intervention of his Friend PYTHIAS, who consents to become a Hostage for DAMON's return, at the hour appointed for his Execution. time has arrived, and DAMON has not returned. CALANTHE, betrothed Wife of PYTHIAS, hurries despairingly to the place of Execution. The SCENE-A Public Place in Syracuse.-A Scaffold, with steps ascending to it, upon the right hand.-In the back of the stage the Gates of a Prison.-Executioner with an axe, and Guards discovered. CALANTHE, ARRIA (her Mother). Calanthe. There's no power Shall stay me back! I must behold him die, Then follow him! Arria. My child! Cal. I cannot hear thee! The shrieking of the Furies drowns thy cries! Arr. This is no place for thee-no place, Calanthe, For such a one as thou! Cal. No other place Is fit for such a wretch! I am his wife, Betrothed, though not married. There's no place For me but at his side: in life or death There is no other. There is the scaffold with the block on it! There is the-Oh, good gods! Arr. Come back, my child! Good Damocles, give me your aid to bear Cal. Oh, mother, mother, I'll not be grudged that horrible delight! I'll take one long and maddening look of him, And with a heart all full of love and fear. And with a cheek that ne'er shall blush again; Enter DIONYSIUS, in disguise. Ha! are you come ? 'Twas you that told me so, And froze the running currents in my bosom, To one deep cake of ice! You said too well That Damon would not come. The traitor Damon! Dion. Hark thee, Calanthe! It was an idle tale I told to thee! The selfish traitor! |