ACT V.

Scene—A Gallery in the Ambassador's Palace.

Scene—A Gallery in the Ambassador's Palace.

Reg.(alone.)Be calm, my soul! what strange emotions shake thee?Emotions thou hast never felt till now.Thou hast defied the dangers of the deep,Th' impetuous hurricane, the thunder's roar,And all the terrors of the various war;Yet, now thou tremblest, now thou stand'st dismay'd,With fearful expectation of thy fate.——Yes—thou hast amplest reason for thy fears;For till this hour, so pregnant with events,Thy fame and glory never were at stake.Soft—let me think—what is this thing call'dglory?'Tis the soul's tyrant, that should be dethron'd,And learn subjection like her other passions!Ah! no! 'tis false: this is the coward's plea;The lazy language of refining vice.That man was born in vain, whose wish to serveIs circumscrib'd within the wretched boundsOfself—a narrow, miserable sphere!Glory exalts, enlarges, dignifies,Absorbs the selfish in the social claims,And renders man a blessing to mankind.—It is this principle, this spark of deity,Rescues debas'd humanity from guilt,And elevates it by her strong excitements:—It takes off sensibility from pain,From peril fear, plucks out the sting from death,Changes ferocious into gentle manners,And teaches men to imitate the gods.It shows——but see, alas! where Publius comes.Ah! he advances with a down-cast eye,And step irresolute——EnterPublius.Reg.My Publius, welcome!What tidings dost thou bring? what says the Senate?Is yet my fate determin'd? quickly tell me.—Pub.I cannot speak, and yet, alas! I must.Reg.Tell me the whole.—Pub.Would I were rather dumb!Reg.Publius, no more delay:—I charge thee speak.Pub.The Senate has decreed thou shalt depart.Reg.Genius of Rome! thou hast at last prevail'd—I thank the gods, I have not liv'd in vain!Where is Hamilcar?—find him—let us go,For Regulus has nought to do in Rome;I have accomplished her important work,And must depart.Pub.Ah, my unhappy father!Reg.Unhappy, Publius! didst thou say unhappy?Does he, does that bless'd man deserve this name,Who to his latest breath can serve his country?Pub.Like thee, my father, I adore my country,Yet weep with anguish o'er thy cruel chains.Reg.Dost thou not know thatlife's a slavery?The body is the chain that binds the soul;A yoke that every mortal must endure.Wouldst thou lament—lament the general fate,The chain that nature gives, entail'd on all,Not theseIwear?Pub.Forgive, forgive my sorrows:I know, alas! too well, those fell barbariansIntend thee instant death.Reg.So shall my lifeAnd servitude together have an end.——Publius, farewell; nay, do not follow me.—Pub.Alas! my father, if thou ever lov'dst me,Refuse me not the mournful consolationTo pay the last sad offices of dutyI e'er can show thee.——Reg.No!—thou canst fulfilThy duty to thy father in a wayMore grateful to him: I must strait embark.Be it meanwhile thy pious care to keepMy lov'd Attilia from a sight, I fear,Would rend her gentle heart.—Her tears, my son,Would dim the glories of thy father's triumph.Her sinking spirits are subdu'd by grief.And should her sorrows pass the bounds of reason,Publius, have pity on her tender age,Compassionate the weakness of her sex;We must not hope to find inhersoft soulThe strong exertion of a manly courage.——Support her fainting spirit, and instruct her,By thy example, how a Roman oughtTo bear misfortune. Oh, indulge her weakness!And be to her the father she will lose.I leave my daughter to thee—I do more——I leave to thee the conduct of—thyself.—Ah, Publius! I perceive thy courage fails—I see the quivering lip, the starting tear:—That lip, that tear calls down my mounting soul.Resume thyself—Oh, do not blast my hope!Yes—I'm compos'd—thou wilt not mock my age—Thouart—thou art aRoman—and my son.[Exit.Pub.And is he gone?—now be thyself, my soul—Hard is the conflict, but the triumph glorious.Yes.—I must conquer these too tender feelings;The blood that fills these veins demands it of me;My father's great example too requires it.Forgive meRome, andglory, if I yieldedTo nature's strong attack:—I must subdue it.Now, Regulus, IfeelI am thyson.EnterAttiliaandBarce.At.My brother, I'm distracted, wild with fear—Tell me, O tell me, what I dread to know—Is it then true?—I cannot speak—my father?Barce.May we believe the fatal news?Pub.Yes, Barce,It is determin'd. Regulus must go.At.Immortal Powers!—What say'st thou?Barce.Can it be?Thou canst not mean it.At.Then you've all betray'd me.Pub.Thy grief avails not.EnterHamilcarandLicinius.Barce.Pity us, Hamilcar!At.Oh, help, Licinius, help the lost Attilia!Ham.My Barce! there's no hope.Lic.Ah! my fair mourner,All's lost.At.What all, Licinius? said'st thou all?Not one poor glimpse of comfort left behind?Tell me, at least, where Regulus is gone:The daughter shall partake the father's chains,And share the woes she knew not to prevent.[Going.Pub.What would thy wild despair? Attilia, stay,Thou must not follow; this excess of griefWould much offend him.At.Dost thou hope to stop me?Pub.I hope thou wilt resume thy better self,And recollect thy father will not bear——At.I only recollect I am adaughter,A poor, defenceless, helpless, wretched daughter!Away——and let me follow.Pub.No, my sister.At.Detain me not—Ah! while thou hold'st me here,He goes, and I shall never see him more.Barce.My friend, be comforted, he cannot goWhilst here Hamilcar stays.At.O Barce, Barce!Who will advise, who comfort, who assist me?Hamilcar, pity me.—Thou wilt not answer?Ham.Rage and astonishment divide my soul.At.Licinius, wilt thou not relieve my sorrows?Lic.Yes, at my life's expense, my heart's best treasure,Wouldst thou instruct me how.At.My brother, too——Ah! look with mercy on thy sister's woes!Pub.I will at least instruct thee how tobearthem.My sister—yield thee to thy adverse fate;Think of thy father, think of Regulus;Has he not taught thee how to brave misfortune?'Tis but by following his illustrious stepsThou e'er canst merit to be call'd his daughter.At.And is it thus thou dost advise thy sister?Are these, ye gods, the feelings of a son?Indifference here becomes impiety—Thy savage heart ne'er felt the dear delightsOf filial tenderness—the thousand joysThat flow from blessing and from being bless'd!No—didst thou love thy father asIlove him,Our kindred souls would be in unison;And all my sighs be echoed back by thine.Thou wouldst—alas!—I know not what I say.—Forgive me, Publius,—but indeed, my brother,I do not understand this cruel coldness.Ham.Thou may'st not—but I understand it well.His mighty soul, full as to thee it seemsOf Rome, and glory—is enamour'd—caught—Enraptur'd with the beauties of fair Barce.—Shestays behind if Regulusdeparts.Behold the cause of all the well-feign'd virtueOf this mock patriot—curst dissimulation!Pub.And canst thou entertain such vile suspicions?Gods! what an outrage to a son like me!Ham.Yes, Roman! now I see thee as thou art,Thy naked soul divested of its veil,Its specious colouring, its dissembled virtues:Thou hast plotted with the Senate to preventTh' exchange of captives. All thy subtle arts,Thy smooth inventions, have been set to work—The base refinements of yourpolish'dland.Pub.In truth the doubt is worthy of an African.[Contemptuously.Ham.I know.——Pub.Peace, Carthaginian, peace, and hear me,Dost thou not know, that on the very manThou hast insulted, Barce's fate depends?Ham.Too well I know, the cruel chance of warGave her, a blooming captive, to thy mother;Who, dying, left the beauteous prize to thee.Pub.Now, see the use aRomanmakes of power.Heav'n is my witness how I lov'd the maid!Oh, she was dearer to my soul than light!Dear as the vital stream that feeds my heart!But know myhonour's dearer than my love.I do not even hopethouwilt believe me;Thybrutal soul, as savage as thy clime,Can never taste those elegant delights,Those pure refinements, love and glory yield.'Tis not to thee I stoop for vindication,Alike to me thy friendship or thy hate;But to remove from others a pretenceFor branding Publius with the name of villain;Thattheymay see no sentiment but honourInforms this bosom—Barce, thou artfree.Thou hast my leave with him to quit this shore.Now learn, barbarian, how aRomanloves![Exit.Barce.He cannot mean it!Ham.Oh, exalted virtue!Which challenges esteem though from a foe.[Looking afterPublius.At.Ah! cruel Publius, wilt thou leave me thus?Thus leave thy sister?Barce.Didst thou hear, Hamilcar?Oh, didst thou hear the god-like youth resign me?[HamilcarandLiciniusseem lost in thought.Ham.Farewell, I will return.Lic.Farewell, my love![ToAttilia.Barce.Hamilcar, where——At.Alas! where art thou going?[ToLicinius.Lic.If possible, to save the life of Regulus.At.But by what means?—Ah! how canst thou effect it?Lic.Since the disease so desperate is become,We must apply a desperate remedy.Ham.(after a long pause.)Yes—I will mortify this generous foe;I'll be reveng'd upon this stubborn Roman;Not by defiance bold, or feats of arms,But by a means more sure to work its end;By emulating his exalted worth,And showing him a virtue like his own;Such a refin'd revenge as noble mindsAlone can practise, and alone can feel.At.If thou wilt go, Licinius, let Attilia At least go with thee.Lic.No, my gentle love,Too much I prize thy safety and thy peace.Let me entreat thee, stay with Barce hereTill our return.At.Then, ere ye go, in pityExplain the latent purpose of your souls.Lic.Soon shalt thou know it all—Farewell! farewell!Let us keep Regulus inRome, ordie.[ToHamilcaras he goes out.Ham.Yes.—These smooth, polish'd Romans shall confessThe soil ofAfric, too, produces heroes.What, though our pride, perhaps, be less than theirs,Our virtue may be equal: they shall ownThe path of honour's not unknown to Carthage,Nor, as they arrogantly think, confin'dTo their proud Capitol:——Yes—they shall learnThe gods look down on other climes than theirs.[Exit.At.What gone,bothgone? What can I think or do?Licinius leaves me, led by love and virtue,To rouse the citizens to war and tumult,Which may be fatal to himself and Rome,And yet, alas! not serve my dearest father.Protecting deities! preserve them both!Barce.Nor is thy Barce more at ease, my friend;I dread the fierceness of Hamilcar's courage:Rous'd by the grandeur of thy brother's deed,And stung by his reproaches, his great soulWill scorn to be outdone by him in glory.Yet, let us rise to courage and to life,Forget the weakness of our helpless sex,And mount above these coward woman's fears.Hope dawns upon my mind—my prospect clears,And every cloud now brightens into day.At.How different are our souls! Thy sanguine temper,Flush'd with the native vigour of thy soil,Supports thy spirits; while the sad Attilia,Sinking with more than all her sex's fears,Sees not a beam of hope; or, if she sees it,'Tis not the bright, warm splendour of the sun;It is a sickly and uncertain glimmerOf instantaneous lightning passing by.It shows, but not diminishes, the danger,And leaves my poor benighted soul as darkAs it had never shone.Barce.Come, let us go.Yes, joys unlook'd-for now shall gild thy days,And brighter suns reflect propitious rays.[Exeunt.Scene—A Hall looking towards the Garden.EnterRegulus,speaking to one ofHamilcar'sAttendants.Where's your Ambassador? where is Hamilcar?Ere this he doubtless knows the Senate's will.Go, seek him out—Tell him we must depart——Rome has no hope for him, or wish for me.Longer delay were criminal inboth.EnterManlius.Reg.He comes. The Consul comes! my noble friend!O let me strain thee to this grateful heart,And thank thee for the vast, vast debt I owe thee!But forthyfriendship I had been a wretch——Had been compell'd to shamefulliberty.To thee I owe the glory of these chains,My faith inviolate, my fame preserv'd,My honour, virtue, glory, bondage,—all!Man.But we shall lose thee, so it is decreed——Thou must depart?Reg.Because I must departYou will not lose me; I were lost, indeed,Did I remain in Rome.Man.Ah! Regulus,Why, why so late do I begin to love thee?Alas! why have the adverse fates decreedI ne'er must give thee other proofs of friendship,Than those so fatal and so full of woe?Reg.Thou hast perform'd the duties of a friend;Of a just, faithful, Roman, noble friend:Yet, generous as thou art, if thou constrain meTo sink beneath a weight of obligation,I could—yes, Manlius—I could ask still more.Man.Explain thyself.Reg.I think I have fulfill'dThe various duties of a citizen;Nor have I aught beside to do for Rome.Now, nothing for the public good remains!Manlius, I recollect I am a father!My Publius! my Attilia! ah! my friend,They are—(forgive the weakness of a parent)To my fond heart dear as the drops that warm it.Next to my country they're my all of life;And, if a weak old man be not deceiv'd,They will not shame that country. Yes, my friend,The love of virtue blazes in their souls.As yet these tender plants are immature,And ask the fostering hand of cultivation:Heav'n, in its wisdom, would not let theirfatherAccomplish this great work.—To thee, my friend,The tender parent delegates the trust:Do not refuse a poor man's legacy;I do bequeath my orphans to thy love—If thou wilt kindly take them to thy bosom,Their loss will be repaid with usury.Oh, let the father owe his glory to thee,The children their protection!Man.Regulus,With grateful joy my heart accepts the trust:Oh, I will shield, with jealous tenderness,The precious blossoms from a blasting world.In me thy children shall possess a father,Though not as worthy, yet as fond as thee.The pride be mine to fill their youthful breastsWith ev'ry virtue—'twill not cost me much:I shall have nought to teach, nor they to learn,But the great history of their god-like sire.Reg.I will not hurt the grandeur of thy virtue,By paying thee so poor a thing as thanks.Now all is over, and I bless the gods,I've nothing more to do.EnterPubliusin haste.Pub.O Regulus!Reg.Say what has happened?Pub.Rome is in a tumult—There's scarce a citizen but runs to arms—They will not let thee go.Reg.Is't possible?Can Rome so far forget her dignityAs to desire this infamous exchange?I blush to think it!Pub.Ah! not so, my father.Rome cares not for the peace, nor for th' exchange;She only wills that Regulus shall stay.Reg.How, stay? my oath—my faith—my honour! ah!Do they forget?Pub.No: every man exclaimsThat neither faith nor honour should be keptWith Carthaginian perfidy and fraud.Reg.Gods! gods! on what vile principles they reason!Can guilt in Carthage palliate guilt in Rome,Or vice in one absolve it in another?Ah! who hereafter shall be criminal,If precedents are us'd to justifyThe blackest crimes.Pub.Th' infatuated peopleHave called the augurs to the sacred fane,There to determine this momentous point.Reg.I have no need oforacles, my son;Honour'sthe oracle of honest men.I gave my promise, which I will observeWith most religious strictness. Rome, 'tis true,Had power to choose the peace, or change of slaves;But whether Regulus return, or not,Ishisconcern, not the concern ofRome.Thatwas a public,thisa private care.Publius! thy father is not what he was;Iam the slave ofCarthage, nor has RomePower to dispose of captives not her own.Guards! let us to the port.—Farewell, my friend.Man.Let me entreat thee stay; for shouldst thou goTo stem this tumult of the populace,They will by force detain thee: then, alas!Both Regulus and Rome must break their faith.Reg.What! must I then remain?Man.No, Regulus,I will not check thy great career of glory:Thou shalt depart; meanwhile, I'll try to calmThis wild tumultuous uproar of the people.The consular authority shall still them.Reg.Thy virtue is my safeguard——but——Man.Enough——Iknowthyhonour, and trust thou tomine.I am aRoman, and I feel some sparksOf Regulus's virtue in my breast.Though fate denies me thy illustrious chains,I will at least endeavour todeservethem.[Exit.Reg.How is my country alter'd! how, alas,Is the great spirit of old Rome extinct!Restraintandforcemust now be put to useTomakeher virtuous. She must becompell'dTo faith and honour.—Ah! what, Publius here?And dost thou leave so tamely to my friendThe honour to assist me? Go, my boy,'Twill make memorein love with chains and death,To owe them to ason.Pub.I go, my father—I will, I will obey thee.Reg.Do not sigh——One sigh will check the progress of thy glory.Pub.Yes, I will own the pangs of death itselfWould be less cruel than these agonies:Yet do not frown austerely on thy son:His anguish is his virtue: if to conquerThe feelings of my soul were easy to me,'Twould be no merit. Do not then defraudThe sacrifice I make thee of its worth.[Exeunt severally.Manlius,Attilia.At.(speaking as she enters.) Where is the Consul?—Where, oh, where is Manlius?I come to breathe the voice of mourning to him,I come to crave his mercy, to conjure himTo whisper peace to my afflicted bosom,And heal the anguish of a wounded spirit.Man.What would the daughter of my noble friend?At.(kneeling.)If ever pity's sweet emotions touch'd thee,—If ever gentle love assail'd thy breast,—If ever virtuous friendship fir'd thy soul—By the dear names of husband and of parent—By all the soft, yet powerful ties of nature—If e'er thy lisping infants charm'd thine ear,And waken'd all the father in thy soul,—If e'er thou hop'st to have thy latter daysBlest by their love, and sweeten'd by their duty—Oh, hear a kneeling, weeping, wretched daughter,Who begs a father's life!—nor hers alone,But Rome's—his country's father.Man.Gentle maid!Oh, spare this soft, subduing eloquence!—Nay, rise. I shall forget I am a Roman—Forget the mighty debt I owe my country—Forget the fame and glory of thy father.I must conceal this weakness.[Turns from her.At.(rises eagerly.)Ah! you weep!Indulge, indulge, my Lord, the virtuous softness:Was ever sight so graceful, so becoming,As pity's tear upon the hero's cheek?Man.No more—I must not hear thee.[Going.At.How! not, not hear me!You must—you shall—nay, nay return, my Lord—Oh, fly not from me!——look upon my woes,And imitate the mercy of the gods:'Tis not their thunder that excites our reverence,'Tis their mild mercy, and forgiving love.'Twill add a brighter lustre to thy laurels,When men shall say, and proudly point thee out,"Behold the Consul!—He who sav'd his friend."Oh, what a tide of joy will overwhelm thee!Who will not envy thee thy glorious feelings?Man.Thy father scorns his liberty and life,Nor will accept of either at the expenseOf honour, virtue, glory, faith, and Rome.At.Think you behold the god-like RegulusThe prey of unrelenting savage foes,Ingenious only in contriving ill:——Eager to glut their hunger of revenge,They'll plot such new, such dire, unheard-of tortures—Such dreadful, and such complicated vengeance,As e'en the Punic annals have not known;And, as they heap fresh torments on his head,They'll glory in their genius for destruction.—Ah! Manlius—now methinks I see my father—My faithful fancy, full of his idea,Presents him to me—mangled, gash'd, and torn—Stretch'd on the rack in writhing agony—The torturing pincers tear his quivering flesh,While the dire murderers smile upon his wounds,His groans their music, and his pangs their sport.And if they lend some interval of ease,Some dear-bought intermission, meant to makeThe following pang more exquisitely felt,Th' insulting executioners exclaim,—"Now, Roman! feel the vengeance thou hast scorn'd."Man.Repress thy sorrows——At.Can the friend of RegulusAdvise his daughter not to mourn his fate?How cold, alas! is friendship when compar'dTo ties of blood—to nature's powerful impulse!Yes—she asserts her empire in my soul,'Tis Nature pleads—she will—she must be heard;With warm, resistless eloquence she pleads.—Ah, thou art soften'd!—see—the Consul yields—The feelings triumph—tenderness prevails—The Roman is subdued—the daughter conquers![Catching hold of his robe.Man.Ah, hold me not!—I must not, cannot stay,The softness of thy sorrow is contagious;I, too, may feel when I should only reason.I dare not hear thee—Regulus and Rome,The patriot and the friend—all, all forbid it.[Breaks from her, and exit.At.O feeble grasp!—and is he gone, quite gone?Hold, hold thy empire, Reason, firmly hold it,Or rather quit at once thy feeble throne,Since thou but serv'st to show me what I've lost,To heighten all the horrors that await me;To summon up a wild distracted crowdOf fatal images, to shake my soul,To scare sweet peace, and banish hope itself.Farewell! delusive dreams of joy, farewell!Come, fell Despair! thou pale-ey'd spectre, come,For thou shalt be Attilia's inmate now,And thou shalt grow, and twine about her heart,And she shall be so much enamour'd of thee,The pageant Pleasure ne'er shall interposeHer gaudy presence to divide you more.[Stands in an attitude of silent grief.EnterLicinius.Lic.At length I've found thee—ah, my charming maid!How have I sought thee out with anxious fondness!Alas! she hears me not.——My best Attilia!Ah! grief oppresses every gentle sense.Still, still she hears not——'tis Licinius speaks,He comes to soothe the anguish of thy spirit,And hush thy tender sorrows into peace.At.Who's he that dares assume the voice of love,And comes unbidden to these dreary haunts?Steals on the sacred treasury of woe,And breaks the league Despair and I have made?Lic.'Tis one who comes the messenger of heav'n,To talk of peace, of comfort, and of joy.At.Didst thou not mock me with the sound of joy?Thou little know'st the anguish of my soul,If thou believ'st I ever can again,So long the wretched sport of angry Fortune,Admit delusive hope to my sad bosom.No——I abjure the flatterer and her train.Let those, who ne'er have been like me deceiv'd,Embrace the fair fantastic sycophant—For I, alas! am wedded to despair,And will not hear the sound of comfort more.Lic.Cease, cease, my love, this tender voice of woe,Though softer than the dying cygnet's plaint:She ever chants her most melodious strainWhen death and sorrow harmonise her note.At.Yes—I will listen now with fond delight;For death and sorrow are my darling themes.Well!—what hast thou to say of death and sorrow?Believe me, thou wilt find me apt to listen,And, if my tongue be slow to answer thee,Instead of words I'll give thee sighs and tears.Lic.I come to dry thy tears, not make them flow;The gods once more propitious smile upon us,Joy shall again await each happy morn,And ever-new delight shall crown the day!Yes, Regulus shall live.——At.Ah me! what say'st thou?Alas! I'm but a poor, weak, trembling woman—I cannot bear these wild extremes of fate—Then mock me not.—I think thou art Licinius,The generous lover, and the faithful friend!I think thou wouldst not sport with my afflictions.Lic.Mock thy afflictions?—May eternal Jove,And every power at whose dread shrine we worship,Blast all the hopes my fond ideas form,If I deceive thee! Regulus shall live,Shall live to give thee to Licinius' arms.Oh! we will smooth his downward path of life,And after a long length of virtuous years,At the last verge of honourable age,When nature's glimmering lamp goes gently out,We'll close, together close his eyes in peace—Together drop the sweetly-painful tear—Then copy out his virtues in our lives.At.And shall we be so blest? is't possible?Forgive me, my Licinius, if I doubt thee.Fate never gave such exquisite delightAs flattering hope hath imag'd to thy soul.But how?——Explain this bounty of the gods.Lic.Thou know'st what influence the name of TribuneGives its possessor o'er the people's minds:That power I have exerted, nor in vain;All are prepar'd to second my designs:The plot is ripe,—there's not a man but swearsTo keep thy god-like father here in Rome——To save his life at hazard of his own.At.By what gradation does my joy ascend!I thought that if my father had been sav'dBy any means, I had been rich in bliss:But that he lives, and lives preserv'd by thee,Is such a prodigality of fate,I cannot bear my joy with moderation:Heav'n should have dealt it with a scantier hand,And not have shower'd such plenteous blessings on me;They are too great, too flattering to be real;'Tis some delightful vision, which enchants,And cheats my senses, weaken'd by misfortune.Lic.We'll seek thy father, and meanwhile, my fair,Compose thy sweet emotions ere thou see'st him,Pleasure itself is painful in excess;For joys, like sorrows, in extreme, oppress:The gods themselves our pious cares approve,And to reward our virtue crown our love.

Reg.(alone.)Be calm, my soul! what strange emotions shake thee?Emotions thou hast never felt till now.Thou hast defied the dangers of the deep,Th' impetuous hurricane, the thunder's roar,And all the terrors of the various war;Yet, now thou tremblest, now thou stand'st dismay'd,With fearful expectation of thy fate.——Yes—thou hast amplest reason for thy fears;For till this hour, so pregnant with events,Thy fame and glory never were at stake.Soft—let me think—what is this thing call'dglory?'Tis the soul's tyrant, that should be dethron'd,And learn subjection like her other passions!Ah! no! 'tis false: this is the coward's plea;The lazy language of refining vice.That man was born in vain, whose wish to serveIs circumscrib'd within the wretched boundsOfself—a narrow, miserable sphere!Glory exalts, enlarges, dignifies,Absorbs the selfish in the social claims,And renders man a blessing to mankind.—It is this principle, this spark of deity,Rescues debas'd humanity from guilt,And elevates it by her strong excitements:—It takes off sensibility from pain,From peril fear, plucks out the sting from death,Changes ferocious into gentle manners,And teaches men to imitate the gods.It shows——but see, alas! where Publius comes.Ah! he advances with a down-cast eye,And step irresolute——

Reg.My Publius, welcome!What tidings dost thou bring? what says the Senate?Is yet my fate determin'd? quickly tell me.—

Pub.I cannot speak, and yet, alas! I must.

Reg.Tell me the whole.—

Pub.Would I were rather dumb!

Reg.Publius, no more delay:—I charge thee speak.

Pub.The Senate has decreed thou shalt depart.

Reg.Genius of Rome! thou hast at last prevail'd—I thank the gods, I have not liv'd in vain!Where is Hamilcar?—find him—let us go,For Regulus has nought to do in Rome;I have accomplished her important work,And must depart.

Pub.Ah, my unhappy father!

Reg.Unhappy, Publius! didst thou say unhappy?Does he, does that bless'd man deserve this name,Who to his latest breath can serve his country?

Pub.Like thee, my father, I adore my country,Yet weep with anguish o'er thy cruel chains.

Reg.Dost thou not know thatlife's a slavery?The body is the chain that binds the soul;A yoke that every mortal must endure.Wouldst thou lament—lament the general fate,The chain that nature gives, entail'd on all,Not theseIwear?

Pub.Forgive, forgive my sorrows:I know, alas! too well, those fell barbariansIntend thee instant death.

Reg.So shall my lifeAnd servitude together have an end.——Publius, farewell; nay, do not follow me.—

Pub.Alas! my father, if thou ever lov'dst me,Refuse me not the mournful consolationTo pay the last sad offices of dutyI e'er can show thee.——

Reg.No!—thou canst fulfilThy duty to thy father in a wayMore grateful to him: I must strait embark.Be it meanwhile thy pious care to keepMy lov'd Attilia from a sight, I fear,Would rend her gentle heart.—Her tears, my son,Would dim the glories of thy father's triumph.Her sinking spirits are subdu'd by grief.And should her sorrows pass the bounds of reason,Publius, have pity on her tender age,Compassionate the weakness of her sex;We must not hope to find inhersoft soulThe strong exertion of a manly courage.——Support her fainting spirit, and instruct her,By thy example, how a Roman oughtTo bear misfortune. Oh, indulge her weakness!And be to her the father she will lose.I leave my daughter to thee—I do more——I leave to thee the conduct of—thyself.—Ah, Publius! I perceive thy courage fails—I see the quivering lip, the starting tear:—That lip, that tear calls down my mounting soul.Resume thyself—Oh, do not blast my hope!Yes—I'm compos'd—thou wilt not mock my age—Thouart—thou art aRoman—and my son.

Pub.And is he gone?—now be thyself, my soul—Hard is the conflict, but the triumph glorious.Yes.—I must conquer these too tender feelings;The blood that fills these veins demands it of me;My father's great example too requires it.Forgive meRome, andglory, if I yieldedTo nature's strong attack:—I must subdue it.Now, Regulus, IfeelI am thyson.

At.My brother, I'm distracted, wild with fear—Tell me, O tell me, what I dread to know—Is it then true?—I cannot speak—my father?

Barce.May we believe the fatal news?

Pub.Yes, Barce,It is determin'd. Regulus must go.

At.Immortal Powers!—What say'st thou?

Barce.Can it be?Thou canst not mean it.

At.Then you've all betray'd me.

Pub.Thy grief avails not.

Barce.Pity us, Hamilcar!

At.Oh, help, Licinius, help the lost Attilia!

Ham.My Barce! there's no hope.

Lic.Ah! my fair mourner,All's lost.

At.What all, Licinius? said'st thou all?Not one poor glimpse of comfort left behind?Tell me, at least, where Regulus is gone:The daughter shall partake the father's chains,And share the woes she knew not to prevent.

Pub.What would thy wild despair? Attilia, stay,Thou must not follow; this excess of griefWould much offend him.

At.Dost thou hope to stop me?

Pub.I hope thou wilt resume thy better self,And recollect thy father will not bear——

At.I only recollect I am adaughter,A poor, defenceless, helpless, wretched daughter!Away——and let me follow.

Pub.No, my sister.

At.Detain me not—Ah! while thou hold'st me here,He goes, and I shall never see him more.

Barce.My friend, be comforted, he cannot goWhilst here Hamilcar stays.

At.O Barce, Barce!Who will advise, who comfort, who assist me?Hamilcar, pity me.—Thou wilt not answer?

Ham.Rage and astonishment divide my soul.

At.Licinius, wilt thou not relieve my sorrows?

Lic.Yes, at my life's expense, my heart's best treasure,Wouldst thou instruct me how.

At.My brother, too——Ah! look with mercy on thy sister's woes!

Pub.I will at least instruct thee how tobearthem.My sister—yield thee to thy adverse fate;Think of thy father, think of Regulus;Has he not taught thee how to brave misfortune?'Tis but by following his illustrious stepsThou e'er canst merit to be call'd his daughter.

At.And is it thus thou dost advise thy sister?Are these, ye gods, the feelings of a son?Indifference here becomes impiety—Thy savage heart ne'er felt the dear delightsOf filial tenderness—the thousand joysThat flow from blessing and from being bless'd!No—didst thou love thy father asIlove him,Our kindred souls would be in unison;And all my sighs be echoed back by thine.Thou wouldst—alas!—I know not what I say.—Forgive me, Publius,—but indeed, my brother,I do not understand this cruel coldness.

Ham.Thou may'st not—but I understand it well.His mighty soul, full as to thee it seemsOf Rome, and glory—is enamour'd—caught—Enraptur'd with the beauties of fair Barce.—Shestays behind if Regulusdeparts.Behold the cause of all the well-feign'd virtueOf this mock patriot—curst dissimulation!

Pub.And canst thou entertain such vile suspicions?Gods! what an outrage to a son like me!

Ham.Yes, Roman! now I see thee as thou art,Thy naked soul divested of its veil,Its specious colouring, its dissembled virtues:Thou hast plotted with the Senate to preventTh' exchange of captives. All thy subtle arts,Thy smooth inventions, have been set to work—The base refinements of yourpolish'dland.

Pub.In truth the doubt is worthy of an African.

Ham.I know.——

Pub.Peace, Carthaginian, peace, and hear me,Dost thou not know, that on the very manThou hast insulted, Barce's fate depends?

Ham.Too well I know, the cruel chance of warGave her, a blooming captive, to thy mother;Who, dying, left the beauteous prize to thee.

Pub.Now, see the use aRomanmakes of power.Heav'n is my witness how I lov'd the maid!Oh, she was dearer to my soul than light!Dear as the vital stream that feeds my heart!But know myhonour's dearer than my love.I do not even hopethouwilt believe me;Thybrutal soul, as savage as thy clime,Can never taste those elegant delights,Those pure refinements, love and glory yield.'Tis not to thee I stoop for vindication,Alike to me thy friendship or thy hate;But to remove from others a pretenceFor branding Publius with the name of villain;Thattheymay see no sentiment but honourInforms this bosom—Barce, thou artfree.Thou hast my leave with him to quit this shore.Now learn, barbarian, how aRomanloves!

Barce.He cannot mean it!

Ham.Oh, exalted virtue!Which challenges esteem though from a foe.

At.Ah! cruel Publius, wilt thou leave me thus?Thus leave thy sister?

Barce.Didst thou hear, Hamilcar?Oh, didst thou hear the god-like youth resign me?

Ham.Farewell, I will return.

Lic.Farewell, my love![ToAttilia.

Barce.Hamilcar, where——

At.Alas! where art thou going?

Lic.If possible, to save the life of Regulus.

At.But by what means?—Ah! how canst thou effect it?

Lic.Since the disease so desperate is become,We must apply a desperate remedy.

Ham.(after a long pause.)Yes—I will mortify this generous foe;I'll be reveng'd upon this stubborn Roman;Not by defiance bold, or feats of arms,But by a means more sure to work its end;By emulating his exalted worth,And showing him a virtue like his own;Such a refin'd revenge as noble mindsAlone can practise, and alone can feel.

At.If thou wilt go, Licinius, let Attilia At least go with thee.

Lic.No, my gentle love,Too much I prize thy safety and thy peace.Let me entreat thee, stay with Barce hereTill our return.

At.Then, ere ye go, in pityExplain the latent purpose of your souls.

Lic.Soon shalt thou know it all—Farewell! farewell!Let us keep Regulus inRome, ordie.

Ham.Yes.—These smooth, polish'd Romans shall confessThe soil ofAfric, too, produces heroes.What, though our pride, perhaps, be less than theirs,Our virtue may be equal: they shall ownThe path of honour's not unknown to Carthage,Nor, as they arrogantly think, confin'dTo their proud Capitol:——Yes—they shall learnThe gods look down on other climes than theirs.

At.What gone,bothgone? What can I think or do?Licinius leaves me, led by love and virtue,To rouse the citizens to war and tumult,Which may be fatal to himself and Rome,And yet, alas! not serve my dearest father.Protecting deities! preserve them both!

Barce.Nor is thy Barce more at ease, my friend;I dread the fierceness of Hamilcar's courage:Rous'd by the grandeur of thy brother's deed,And stung by his reproaches, his great soulWill scorn to be outdone by him in glory.Yet, let us rise to courage and to life,Forget the weakness of our helpless sex,And mount above these coward woman's fears.Hope dawns upon my mind—my prospect clears,And every cloud now brightens into day.

At.How different are our souls! Thy sanguine temper,Flush'd with the native vigour of thy soil,Supports thy spirits; while the sad Attilia,Sinking with more than all her sex's fears,Sees not a beam of hope; or, if she sees it,'Tis not the bright, warm splendour of the sun;It is a sickly and uncertain glimmerOf instantaneous lightning passing by.It shows, but not diminishes, the danger,And leaves my poor benighted soul as darkAs it had never shone.

Barce.Come, let us go.Yes, joys unlook'd-for now shall gild thy days,And brighter suns reflect propitious rays.

Where's your Ambassador? where is Hamilcar?Ere this he doubtless knows the Senate's will.Go, seek him out—Tell him we must depart——Rome has no hope for him, or wish for me.Longer delay were criminal inboth.

Reg.He comes. The Consul comes! my noble friend!O let me strain thee to this grateful heart,And thank thee for the vast, vast debt I owe thee!But forthyfriendship I had been a wretch——Had been compell'd to shamefulliberty.To thee I owe the glory of these chains,My faith inviolate, my fame preserv'd,My honour, virtue, glory, bondage,—all!

Man.But we shall lose thee, so it is decreed——Thou must depart?

Reg.Because I must departYou will not lose me; I were lost, indeed,Did I remain in Rome.

Man.Ah! Regulus,Why, why so late do I begin to love thee?Alas! why have the adverse fates decreedI ne'er must give thee other proofs of friendship,Than those so fatal and so full of woe?

Reg.Thou hast perform'd the duties of a friend;Of a just, faithful, Roman, noble friend:Yet, generous as thou art, if thou constrain meTo sink beneath a weight of obligation,I could—yes, Manlius—I could ask still more.

Man.Explain thyself.

Reg.I think I have fulfill'dThe various duties of a citizen;Nor have I aught beside to do for Rome.Now, nothing for the public good remains!Manlius, I recollect I am a father!My Publius! my Attilia! ah! my friend,They are—(forgive the weakness of a parent)To my fond heart dear as the drops that warm it.Next to my country they're my all of life;And, if a weak old man be not deceiv'd,They will not shame that country. Yes, my friend,The love of virtue blazes in their souls.As yet these tender plants are immature,And ask the fostering hand of cultivation:Heav'n, in its wisdom, would not let theirfatherAccomplish this great work.—To thee, my friend,The tender parent delegates the trust:Do not refuse a poor man's legacy;I do bequeath my orphans to thy love—If thou wilt kindly take them to thy bosom,Their loss will be repaid with usury.Oh, let the father owe his glory to thee,The children their protection!

Man.Regulus,With grateful joy my heart accepts the trust:Oh, I will shield, with jealous tenderness,The precious blossoms from a blasting world.In me thy children shall possess a father,Though not as worthy, yet as fond as thee.The pride be mine to fill their youthful breastsWith ev'ry virtue—'twill not cost me much:I shall have nought to teach, nor they to learn,But the great history of their god-like sire.

Reg.I will not hurt the grandeur of thy virtue,By paying thee so poor a thing as thanks.Now all is over, and I bless the gods,I've nothing more to do.

Pub.O Regulus!

Reg.Say what has happened?

Pub.Rome is in a tumult—There's scarce a citizen but runs to arms—They will not let thee go.

Reg.Is't possible?Can Rome so far forget her dignityAs to desire this infamous exchange?I blush to think it!

Pub.Ah! not so, my father.Rome cares not for the peace, nor for th' exchange;She only wills that Regulus shall stay.

Reg.How, stay? my oath—my faith—my honour! ah!Do they forget?

Pub.No: every man exclaimsThat neither faith nor honour should be keptWith Carthaginian perfidy and fraud.

Reg.Gods! gods! on what vile principles they reason!Can guilt in Carthage palliate guilt in Rome,Or vice in one absolve it in another?Ah! who hereafter shall be criminal,If precedents are us'd to justifyThe blackest crimes.

Pub.Th' infatuated peopleHave called the augurs to the sacred fane,There to determine this momentous point.

Reg.I have no need oforacles, my son;Honour'sthe oracle of honest men.I gave my promise, which I will observeWith most religious strictness. Rome, 'tis true,Had power to choose the peace, or change of slaves;But whether Regulus return, or not,Ishisconcern, not the concern ofRome.Thatwas a public,thisa private care.Publius! thy father is not what he was;Iam the slave ofCarthage, nor has RomePower to dispose of captives not her own.Guards! let us to the port.—Farewell, my friend.

Man.Let me entreat thee stay; for shouldst thou goTo stem this tumult of the populace,They will by force detain thee: then, alas!Both Regulus and Rome must break their faith.

Reg.What! must I then remain?

Man.No, Regulus,I will not check thy great career of glory:Thou shalt depart; meanwhile, I'll try to calmThis wild tumultuous uproar of the people.The consular authority shall still them.

Reg.Thy virtue is my safeguard——but——

Man.Enough——Iknowthyhonour, and trust thou tomine.I am aRoman, and I feel some sparksOf Regulus's virtue in my breast.Though fate denies me thy illustrious chains,I will at least endeavour todeservethem.

Reg.How is my country alter'd! how, alas,Is the great spirit of old Rome extinct!Restraintandforcemust now be put to useTomakeher virtuous. She must becompell'dTo faith and honour.—Ah! what, Publius here?And dost thou leave so tamely to my friendThe honour to assist me? Go, my boy,'Twill make memorein love with chains and death,To owe them to ason.

Pub.I go, my father—I will, I will obey thee.

Reg.Do not sigh——One sigh will check the progress of thy glory.

Pub.Yes, I will own the pangs of death itselfWould be less cruel than these agonies:Yet do not frown austerely on thy son:His anguish is his virtue: if to conquerThe feelings of my soul were easy to me,'Twould be no merit. Do not then defraudThe sacrifice I make thee of its worth.

At.(speaking as she enters.) Where is the Consul?—Where, oh, where is Manlius?I come to breathe the voice of mourning to him,I come to crave his mercy, to conjure himTo whisper peace to my afflicted bosom,And heal the anguish of a wounded spirit.

Man.What would the daughter of my noble friend?

At.(kneeling.)If ever pity's sweet emotions touch'd thee,—If ever gentle love assail'd thy breast,—If ever virtuous friendship fir'd thy soul—By the dear names of husband and of parent—By all the soft, yet powerful ties of nature—If e'er thy lisping infants charm'd thine ear,And waken'd all the father in thy soul,—If e'er thou hop'st to have thy latter daysBlest by their love, and sweeten'd by their duty—Oh, hear a kneeling, weeping, wretched daughter,Who begs a father's life!—nor hers alone,But Rome's—his country's father.

Man.Gentle maid!Oh, spare this soft, subduing eloquence!—Nay, rise. I shall forget I am a Roman—Forget the mighty debt I owe my country—Forget the fame and glory of thy father.I must conceal this weakness.

At.(rises eagerly.)Ah! you weep!Indulge, indulge, my Lord, the virtuous softness:Was ever sight so graceful, so becoming,As pity's tear upon the hero's cheek?

Man.No more—I must not hear thee.[Going.

At.How! not, not hear me!You must—you shall—nay, nay return, my Lord—Oh, fly not from me!——look upon my woes,And imitate the mercy of the gods:'Tis not their thunder that excites our reverence,'Tis their mild mercy, and forgiving love.'Twill add a brighter lustre to thy laurels,When men shall say, and proudly point thee out,"Behold the Consul!—He who sav'd his friend."Oh, what a tide of joy will overwhelm thee!Who will not envy thee thy glorious feelings?

Man.Thy father scorns his liberty and life,Nor will accept of either at the expenseOf honour, virtue, glory, faith, and Rome.

At.Think you behold the god-like RegulusThe prey of unrelenting savage foes,Ingenious only in contriving ill:——Eager to glut their hunger of revenge,They'll plot such new, such dire, unheard-of tortures—Such dreadful, and such complicated vengeance,As e'en the Punic annals have not known;And, as they heap fresh torments on his head,They'll glory in their genius for destruction.—Ah! Manlius—now methinks I see my father—My faithful fancy, full of his idea,Presents him to me—mangled, gash'd, and torn—Stretch'd on the rack in writhing agony—The torturing pincers tear his quivering flesh,While the dire murderers smile upon his wounds,His groans their music, and his pangs their sport.And if they lend some interval of ease,Some dear-bought intermission, meant to makeThe following pang more exquisitely felt,Th' insulting executioners exclaim,—"Now, Roman! feel the vengeance thou hast scorn'd."

Man.Repress thy sorrows——

At.Can the friend of RegulusAdvise his daughter not to mourn his fate?How cold, alas! is friendship when compar'dTo ties of blood—to nature's powerful impulse!Yes—she asserts her empire in my soul,'Tis Nature pleads—she will—she must be heard;With warm, resistless eloquence she pleads.—Ah, thou art soften'd!—see—the Consul yields—The feelings triumph—tenderness prevails—The Roman is subdued—the daughter conquers!

Man.Ah, hold me not!—I must not, cannot stay,The softness of thy sorrow is contagious;I, too, may feel when I should only reason.I dare not hear thee—Regulus and Rome,The patriot and the friend—all, all forbid it.

At.O feeble grasp!—and is he gone, quite gone?Hold, hold thy empire, Reason, firmly hold it,Or rather quit at once thy feeble throne,Since thou but serv'st to show me what I've lost,To heighten all the horrors that await me;To summon up a wild distracted crowdOf fatal images, to shake my soul,To scare sweet peace, and banish hope itself.Farewell! delusive dreams of joy, farewell!Come, fell Despair! thou pale-ey'd spectre, come,For thou shalt be Attilia's inmate now,And thou shalt grow, and twine about her heart,And she shall be so much enamour'd of thee,The pageant Pleasure ne'er shall interposeHer gaudy presence to divide you more.

Lic.At length I've found thee—ah, my charming maid!How have I sought thee out with anxious fondness!Alas! she hears me not.——My best Attilia!Ah! grief oppresses every gentle sense.Still, still she hears not——'tis Licinius speaks,He comes to soothe the anguish of thy spirit,And hush thy tender sorrows into peace.

At.Who's he that dares assume the voice of love,And comes unbidden to these dreary haunts?Steals on the sacred treasury of woe,And breaks the league Despair and I have made?

Lic.'Tis one who comes the messenger of heav'n,To talk of peace, of comfort, and of joy.

At.Didst thou not mock me with the sound of joy?Thou little know'st the anguish of my soul,If thou believ'st I ever can again,So long the wretched sport of angry Fortune,Admit delusive hope to my sad bosom.No——I abjure the flatterer and her train.Let those, who ne'er have been like me deceiv'd,Embrace the fair fantastic sycophant—For I, alas! am wedded to despair,And will not hear the sound of comfort more.

Lic.Cease, cease, my love, this tender voice of woe,Though softer than the dying cygnet's plaint:She ever chants her most melodious strainWhen death and sorrow harmonise her note.

At.Yes—I will listen now with fond delight;For death and sorrow are my darling themes.Well!—what hast thou to say of death and sorrow?Believe me, thou wilt find me apt to listen,And, if my tongue be slow to answer thee,Instead of words I'll give thee sighs and tears.

Lic.I come to dry thy tears, not make them flow;The gods once more propitious smile upon us,Joy shall again await each happy morn,And ever-new delight shall crown the day!Yes, Regulus shall live.——

At.Ah me! what say'st thou?Alas! I'm but a poor, weak, trembling woman—I cannot bear these wild extremes of fate—Then mock me not.—I think thou art Licinius,The generous lover, and the faithful friend!I think thou wouldst not sport with my afflictions.

Lic.Mock thy afflictions?—May eternal Jove,And every power at whose dread shrine we worship,Blast all the hopes my fond ideas form,If I deceive thee! Regulus shall live,Shall live to give thee to Licinius' arms.Oh! we will smooth his downward path of life,And after a long length of virtuous years,At the last verge of honourable age,When nature's glimmering lamp goes gently out,We'll close, together close his eyes in peace—Together drop the sweetly-painful tear—Then copy out his virtues in our lives.

At.And shall we be so blest? is't possible?Forgive me, my Licinius, if I doubt thee.Fate never gave such exquisite delightAs flattering hope hath imag'd to thy soul.But how?——Explain this bounty of the gods.

Lic.Thou know'st what influence the name of TribuneGives its possessor o'er the people's minds:That power I have exerted, nor in vain;All are prepar'd to second my designs:The plot is ripe,—there's not a man but swearsTo keep thy god-like father here in Rome——To save his life at hazard of his own.

At.By what gradation does my joy ascend!I thought that if my father had been sav'dBy any means, I had been rich in bliss:But that he lives, and lives preserv'd by thee,Is such a prodigality of fate,I cannot bear my joy with moderation:Heav'n should have dealt it with a scantier hand,And not have shower'd such plenteous blessings on me;They are too great, too flattering to be real;'Tis some delightful vision, which enchants,And cheats my senses, weaken'd by misfortune.

Lic.We'll seek thy father, and meanwhile, my fair,Compose thy sweet emotions ere thou see'st him,Pleasure itself is painful in excess;For joys, like sorrows, in extreme, oppress:The gods themselves our pious cares approve,And to reward our virtue crown our love.

An Apartment in the Ambassador's Palace—Guardsand other Attendants seen at a distance.

An Apartment in the Ambassador's Palace—Guardsand other Attendants seen at a distance.

Ham.Where is this wondrous man, this matchless hero,This arbiter of kingdoms and of kings,This delegate of heav'n, this Roman god?I long to show his soaring mind an equal,And bring it to the standard of humanity.What pride, what glory will it be to fixAn obligation on his stubborn soul!Oh! to constrain a foe to be obliged!The very thought exalts me e'en to rapture.EnterRegulusand Guards.Ham.Well, Regulus!—At last—Reg.I know it all;I know the motive of thy just complaint—Be not alarm'd at this licentious uproarOf the mad populace. I will depart—Fear not—I will not stay in Rome alive.Ham.What dost thou mean by uproar and alarms?Hamilcar does not come to vent complaints;He rather comes to prove that Afric, too,Produces heroes, and that Tiber's banksMay find a rival on the Punic coast.Reg.Be it so.—'Tis not a time for vain debate:Collect thy people.—Let us strait depart.Ham.Lend me thy hearing, first.Reg.O patience, patience!Ham.Is it esteem'd a glory to be grateful?Reg.The time has been when 'twas a duty only,But 'tis a duty now so little practis'd,That to perform it is become a glory.Ham.If to fulfil it should expose to danger?——Reg.It rises then to an illustrious virtue.Ham.Then grant this merit to an African.Give me a patient hearing——Thy great son,As delicate in honour as in love,Hath nobly given my Barce to my arms;And yet I know he doats upon the maid.I come to emulate the generous deed;He gave me back my love, and in returnI will restore his father.Reg.Ah! what say'st thou?Wilt thou preserve me then?Ham.I will.Reg.But how?Ham.By leaving thee at liberty tofly.Reg.Ah!Ham.I will dismiss my guards on some pretence,Meanwhile do thou escape, and lie conceal'd:I will affect a rage I shall not feel,Unmoor my ships, and sail for Africa.Reg.Abhorr'd barbarian!Ham.Well, what dost thou say?Art thou not much surpris'd?Reg.I am, indeed.Ham.Thou could'st not then have hop'd it?Reg.No! I could not.Ham.And yet I'm not a Roman.Reg.(smiling contemptuously.)I perceive it.Ham.You may retire (aloud to the guards).Reg.No!—Stay, I charge you stay.Ham.And wherefore stay?Reg.I thank thee for thy offer,But I shall go with thee.Ham.'Tis well, proud man!Thou dost despise me, then?Reg.No—but I pity thee.Ham.Why pity me?Reg.Because thy poor dark soulHath never felt the piercing ray of virtue.Know, African! the scheme thou dost proposeWould injure me, thy country, and thyself.Ham.Thou dost mistake.Reg.Who was it gave thee powerTo rule the destiny of Regulus?Am I a slave to Carthage, or to thee?Ham.What does it signify from whom, proud Roman!Thou dost receive this benefit?Reg.A benefit?O savage ignorance! is it a benefitTo lie, elope, deceive, and be a villain?Ham.What! not when life itself, when all's at stake?Know'st thou my countrymen prepare thee torturesThat shock imagination but to think of?Thou wilt be mangled, butcher'd, rack'd, impal'd.Does not thy nature shrink?Reg.(smiling at his threats.) Hamilcar! no.Dost thou not know the Roman genius better?We live on honour—'tis our food, our life.The motive, and the measure of our deeds!We look on death as on a common object;The tongue nor faulters, nor the cheek turns pale,Nor the calm eye is mov'd at sight of him:We court, and we embrace him undismay'd;We smile at tortures if they lead to glory,And only cowardice and guilt appal us.Ham.Fine sophistry! the valour of the tongue,The heart disclaims it; leave this pomp of words,And cease dissembling with a friend like me.I know that life is dear to all who live,That death is dreadful,—yes, and must be fear'd,E'en by the frozen apathists of Rome.Reg.Did I fear death when on Bagrada's banksI fac'd and slew the formidable serpentThat made your boldest Africans recoil,And shrink with horror, though the monster liv'dA native inmate of their own parch'd deserts?Did I fear death before the gates of Adis?—Ask Bostar, or let Asdrubal confess.Ham.Or shall I rather of Xantippus ask,Who dar'd to undeceive deluded Rome,And prove this vaunter not invincible?'Tis even said, in Africa I mean,He made a prisoner of this demigod.—Did we not triumph then?Reg.Vain boaster! no.No Carthaginian conquer'd Regulus;Xantippus was a Greek—a brave one too:Yet what distinction did your Afric makeBetween the man who serv'd her, and her foe:I was the object of her open hate;He, of her secret, dark malignity.He durst not trust the nation he had sav'd;He knew, and therefore fear'd you.—Yes, he knewWhere once you were oblig'd you ne'er forgave.Could you forgive at all, you'd rather pardonThe man who hated, than the man who serv'd you.Xantippus found his ruin ere it reach'd him,Lurking behind your honours and rewards;Found it in your feign'd courtesies and fawnings.When vice intends to strike a master stroke,Its veil is smiles, its language protestations.The Spartan's merit threaten'd, but his serviceCompell'd his ruin.—Both you could not pardon.Ham.Come, come, I know full well——Reg.Barbarian! peace.I've heard too much.—Go, call thy followers:Prepare thy ships, and learn to do thy duty.Ham.Yes!—show thyself intrepid, and insult me;Call mine the blindness of barbarian friendship.On Tiber's banks I hear thee, and am calm:But know, thou scornful Roman! that too soonIn Carthage thou may'st fear and feel my vengeance:Thy cold, obdurate pride shall there confess,Though Rome may talk—'tis Africa can punish.[Exit.Reg.Farewell! I've not a thought to waste on thee.Where is the Consul? why does Publius stay?Alas! I fear—but see Attilia comes!—EnterAttilia.Reg.What brings thee here, my child? what eager joyTransports thee thus?At.I cannot speak—my father!Joy chokes my utterance—Rome, dear grateful Rome,(Oh, may her cup with blessings overflow!)Gives up our common destiny to thee;Faithful and constant to th' advice thou gav'st her,She will not hear of peace, or change of slaves,But she insists—reward and bless her, gods!—That thou shalt here remain.Reg.What! with the shame——At.Oh! no—the sacred senate hath consider'dThat when to Carthage thou did'st pledge thy faith,Thou wast a captive, and that being such,Thou could'st not bind thyself in covenant.Reg.He who can die, is always free, my child!Learn farther, he who owns another's strengthConfesses his own weakness.—Let them know,I swore I would return because I chose it,And will return, because I swore to do it.EnterPublius.Pub.Vain is that hope, my father.Reg.Who shall stop me?Pub.All Rome.——The citizens are up in arms:In vain would reason stop the growing torrent;In vain wouldst thou attempt to reach the port,The way is barr'd by thronging multitudes:The other streets of Rome are all deserted.Reg.Where, where is Manlius?Pub.He is still thy friend:His single voice opposes a whole people;He threats this moment and the next entreats,But all in vain; none hear him, none obey.The general fury rises e'en to madness.The axes tremble in the lictors' hands,Who, pale and spiritless, want power to use them—And one wild scene of anarchy prevails.Reg.Farewell! my daughter. Publius, follow me.[ExitPublius.At.Ah! where? I tremble——[DetainingRegulus.Reg.To assist my friend—T' upbraid my hapless country with her crime—To keep unstain'd the glory of these chains—To go, or perish.At.Oh! have mercy!Reg.Hold;I have been patient with thee; have indulg'dToo much the fond affections of thy soul;It is enough; thy grief would now offendThy father's honour; do not let thy tearsConspire with Rome to rob me of my triumph.At.Alas! it wounds my soul.Reg.I know it does.I know 'twill grieve thy gentle heart to lose me;But think, thou mak'st the sacrifice to Rome,And all is well again.At.Alas! my father,In aught beside——Reg.What wouldst thou do, my child?Canst thou direct the destiny of Rome,And boldly plead amid the assembled senate?Canst thou, forgetting all thy sex's softness,Fiercely engage in hardy deeds of arms?Canst thou encounter labour, toil and famine,Fatigue and hardships, watchings, cold and heat?Canst thou attempt to serve thy country thus?Thou canst not:—but thou may'st sustain my lossWithout these agonising pains of grief,And set a bright example of submission,Worthy a Roman's daughter.At.Yet such fortitude—Reg.Is a most painful virtue;—but AttiliaIs Regulus's daughter, and must have it.At.I will entreat the gods to give it me.Ah! thou art offended! I have lost thy love.Reg.Is this concern a mark that thou hast lost it?I cannot, cannot spurn my weeping child.Receive this proof of my paternal fondness;—Thou lov'st Licinius—he too loves my daughter.I give thee to his wishes; I do more—I give thee to his virtues.—Yes, Attilia,The noble youth deserves this dearest pledgeThy father's friendship ever can bestow.At.My lord! my father! wilt thou, canst thou leave me?The tender father will not quit his child!Reg.I am, I am thy father! as a proof,I leave thee my example how to suffer.My child! I have a heart within this bosom;That heart has passions—see in what we differ;Passion—which is thy tyrant—is my slave.At.Ah! stay my father. Ah!—Reg.Farewell! farewell![Exit.At.Yes, Regulus! I feel thy spirit here,Thy mighty spirit struggling in this breast,And it shall conquer all these coward feelings,It shall subdue the woman in my soul;A Roman virgin should be something more—Should dare above her sex's narrow limits—And I will dare—and mis'ry shall assist me—My father! I will be indeed thy daughter!The hero shall no more disdain his child;Attilia shall not be the only branchThat yields dishonour to the parent tree.EnterBarce.Barce.Attilia! is it true that Regulus,In spite of senate, people, augurs, friends,And children, will depart?At.Yes, it is true.Barce.Oh! what romantic madness!At.You forget—Barce! the deeds of heroes claim respect.Barce.Dost thou approve a virtue which must leadTo chains, to tortures, and to certain death?At.Barce! those chains, those tortures, and that death,Will be his triumph.Barce.Thou art pleas'd, Attilia:By heav'n thou dost exult in his destruction!At.Ah! pitying powers.[Weeps.Barce.I do not comprehend thee.At.No, Barce, I believe it.—Why, how shouldst thou?If I mistake not, thou wast born in Carthage,In a barbarian land, where never childWas taught to triumph in a father's chains.Barce.Yet thou dost weep—thy tears at least are honest,For they refuse to share thy tongue's deceit;They speak the genuine language of affliction,And tell the sorrows that oppress thy soul.At.Grief, that dissolves in tears, relieves the heart.When congregated vapours melt in rain,The sky is calm'd, and all's serene again.[Exit.Barce.Why, what a strange, fantastic land is this!This love of glory's the disease of Rome;It makes her mad, it is a wild delirium,An universal and contagious frenzy;It preys on all, it spares nor sex nor age:The Consul envies Regulus his chains—He, not less mad, contemns his life and freedom—The daughter glories in the father's ruin—And Publius, more distracted than the rest,Resigns the object that his soul adores,For this vain phantom, for this empty glory.This may be virtue; but I thank the gods,The soul of Barce's not a Roman soul.[Exit.Scene within sight of the Tiber—Ships ready for theembarkation of Regulus and the Ambassador—Tribune and People stopping up the passage—Consul and Lictors endeavouring to clear it.ManliusandLiciniusadvance.Lic.Rome will not suffer Regulus to go.Man.I thought the Consul and the SenatorsHad been a part of Rome.Lic.I grant they are—But still the people are the greater part.Man.The greater, not the wiser.Lic.The less cruel.——Full of esteem and gratitude to Regulus,We would preserve his life.Man.And we his honour.Lic.His honour!——Man.Yes. Time presses. Words are vain.Make way there—clear the passage.Lic.On your lives,Stir not a man.Man.I do command you, go.Lic.And I forbid it.Man.Clear the way, my friends.How dares Licinius thus oppose the Consul?Lic.How dar'st thou, Manlius, thus oppose the Tribune?Man.I'll show thee what I dare, imprudent boy!—Lictors, force through the passage.Lic.Romans, guard it.Man.Gods! is my power resisted then with arms?Thou dost affront the Majesty of Rome.Lic.The Majesty of Rome is in the people;Thou dost insult it by opposing them.People.Let noble Regulus remain in Rome.Man.My friends, let me explain this treacherous scheme.People.We will not hear thee——Regulus shall stay.Man.What! none obey me?People.Regulus shall stay.Man.Romans, attend.——People.Let Regulus remain.EnterRegulus,followed byPublius, Attilia,Hamilcar, Barce,&c.Reg.Let Regulus remain! What do I hear?Is't possible the wish should come from you?Can Romans give, or Regulus accept,A life of infamy? Is't possible?Where is the ancient virtue of my country?Rise, rise, ye mighty spirits of old Rome!I do invoke you from your silent tombs;Fabricius, Cocles, and Camillus, rise,And show your sons what their great fathers were.My countrymen, what crime have I committed?Alas! how has the wretched RegulusDeserv'd your hatred?Lic.Hatred?ah! my friend,It is our love would break these cruel chains.Reg.If you deprive me of my chains, I'm nothing;They are my honours, riches, titles,—all!They'll shame my enemies, and grace my country;They'll waft her glory to remotest climes,Beyond her provinces and conquer'd realms,Where yet her conq'ring eagles never flew;Nor shall she blush hereafter if she findRecorded with her faithful citizensThe name of Regulus, the captive Regulus.My countrymen! what, think you, kept in aweThe Volsci, Sabines, Æqui, and Hernici?The arms of Rome alone? no, 'twas her virtue;That sole surviving good, which brave men keepThough fate and warring worlds combine against them:This still is mine—and I'll preserve it, Romans!The wealth of Plutus shall not bribe it from me!If you, alas! require this sacrifice,Carthage herself was less my foe than Rome;She took my freedom—she could take no more;But Rome, to crown her work, would take my honour.My friends! if you deprive me of my chains,I am no more than any other slave:Yes, Regulus becomes a common captive,A wretched, lying, perjur'd fugitive!But if, to grace my bonds, you leave my honour,I shall be still a Roman, though a slave.Lic.What faith should be observ'd with savages?What promise should be kept which bonds extort?Reg.Unworthy subterfuge! ah! let us leaveTo the wild Arab and the faithless MoorThese wretched maxims of deceit and fraud:Examples ne'er can justify the coward:The brave man never seeks a vindication,Save from his own just bosom and the gods;From principle, not precedent, he acts:As that arraigns him, or as that acquits,He stands or falls; condemn'd or justified.Lic.Rome is no more if Regulus departs.Reg.Let Rome remember Regulus must die!Nor would the moment of my death be distant,If nature's work had been reserv'd for nature:What Carthage means to do,shewould have doneAs speedily, perhaps, at least as surely.My wearied life has almost reach'd its goal;The once-warm current stagnates in these veins,Or through its icy channels slowly creeps——View the weak arm; mark the pale furrow'd cheek,The slacken'd sinew, and the dim sunk eye,And tell me then I must not think of dying!How can I serve you else? My feeble limbsWould totter now beneath the armour's weight,The burden of that body it once shielded.You see, my friends, you see, my countrymen,I can no longer show myself a Roman,Except by dying like one.——Gracious HeavenPoints out a way to crown my days with glory;Oh, do not frustrate, then, the will of Jove,And close a life of virtue with disgrace!Come, come, I know my noble Romans better;I see your souls, I read repentance in them;You all applaud me—nay, you wish my chains:'Twas nothing but excess of love misled you,And as you're Romans you will conquer that.Yes!—I perceive your weakness is subdu'd—Seize, seize the moment of returning virtue;Throw to the ground, my sons, those hostile arms;Retard no longer Regulus's triumph;I do request it of you, as a friend,I call you to your duty, as a patriot,And—were I still your gen'ral, I'd command you.Lic.Lay down your arms—let Regulus depart.[To the People, who clear the way, and quit their arms.Reg.Gods! gods! I thank you—you indeed are righteous.Pub.See every man disarm'd. Oh, Rome! oh, father!At.Hold, hold my heart. Alas! they all obey.Reg.The way is clear. Hamilcar, I attend thee.Ham.Why, I begin to envy this old man![Aside.Man.Not the proud victor on the day of triumph,Warm from the slaughter of dispeopled realms,Though conquer'd princes grace his chariot wheels,Though tributary monarchs wait his nod,And vanquish'd nations bend the knee before him,E'er shone with half the lustre that surroundsThis voluntary sacrifice for Rome!Who loves his country will obey her laws;Who most obeys them is the truest patriot.Reg.Be our last parting worthy of ourselves.Farewell! my friends.—I bless the gods who rule us,Since I must leave you, that I leave you Romans.Preserve the glorious name untainted still,And you shall be the rulers of the globe,The arbiters of earth. The farthest east,Beyond where Ganges rolls his rapid flood,Shall proudly emulate the Roman name.(Kneels.) Ye gods, the guardians of this glorious people,Who watch with jealous eye Æneas' race,This land of heroes I commit to you!This ground, these walls, this people be your care!Oh! bless them, bless them with a liberal hand!Let fortitude and valour, truth and justice,For ever flourish and increase among them!And if some baneful planet threat the CapitolWith its malignant influence, oh, avert it!—Be Regulus the victim of your wrath.—On this white head be all your vengeance pour'd,But spare, oh, spare, and bless immortal Rome!Ah! tears? my Romans weep? Farewell! farewell!Attiliastruggles to get toRegulus—is prevented—shefaints—he fixes his eye steadily on her for sometime, and then departs to the ships.Man.(looking after him.)Farewell! farewell! thou glory of mankind!Protector, father, saviour of thy country!Through Regulus the Roman name shall live,Shall triumph over time, and mock oblivion.Farewell! thou pride of this immortal coast!'Tis Rome alone a Regulus can boast.

Ham.Where is this wondrous man, this matchless hero,This arbiter of kingdoms and of kings,This delegate of heav'n, this Roman god?I long to show his soaring mind an equal,And bring it to the standard of humanity.What pride, what glory will it be to fixAn obligation on his stubborn soul!Oh! to constrain a foe to be obliged!The very thought exalts me e'en to rapture.

Ham.Well, Regulus!—At last—

Reg.I know it all;I know the motive of thy just complaint—Be not alarm'd at this licentious uproarOf the mad populace. I will depart—Fear not—I will not stay in Rome alive.

Ham.What dost thou mean by uproar and alarms?Hamilcar does not come to vent complaints;He rather comes to prove that Afric, too,Produces heroes, and that Tiber's banksMay find a rival on the Punic coast.

Reg.Be it so.—'Tis not a time for vain debate:Collect thy people.—Let us strait depart.

Ham.Lend me thy hearing, first.

Reg.O patience, patience!

Ham.Is it esteem'd a glory to be grateful?

Reg.The time has been when 'twas a duty only,But 'tis a duty now so little practis'd,That to perform it is become a glory.

Ham.If to fulfil it should expose to danger?——

Reg.It rises then to an illustrious virtue.

Ham.Then grant this merit to an African.Give me a patient hearing——Thy great son,As delicate in honour as in love,Hath nobly given my Barce to my arms;And yet I know he doats upon the maid.I come to emulate the generous deed;He gave me back my love, and in returnI will restore his father.

Reg.Ah! what say'st thou?Wilt thou preserve me then?

Ham.I will.

Reg.But how?

Ham.By leaving thee at liberty tofly.

Reg.Ah!

Ham.I will dismiss my guards on some pretence,Meanwhile do thou escape, and lie conceal'd:I will affect a rage I shall not feel,Unmoor my ships, and sail for Africa.

Reg.Abhorr'd barbarian!

Ham.Well, what dost thou say?Art thou not much surpris'd?

Reg.I am, indeed.

Ham.Thou could'st not then have hop'd it?

Reg.No! I could not.

Ham.And yet I'm not a Roman.

Reg.(smiling contemptuously.)I perceive it.

Ham.You may retire (aloud to the guards).

Reg.No!—Stay, I charge you stay.

Ham.And wherefore stay?

Reg.I thank thee for thy offer,But I shall go with thee.

Ham.'Tis well, proud man!Thou dost despise me, then?

Reg.No—but I pity thee.

Ham.Why pity me?

Reg.Because thy poor dark soulHath never felt the piercing ray of virtue.Know, African! the scheme thou dost proposeWould injure me, thy country, and thyself.

Ham.Thou dost mistake.

Reg.Who was it gave thee powerTo rule the destiny of Regulus?Am I a slave to Carthage, or to thee?

Ham.What does it signify from whom, proud Roman!Thou dost receive this benefit?

Reg.A benefit?O savage ignorance! is it a benefitTo lie, elope, deceive, and be a villain?

Ham.What! not when life itself, when all's at stake?Know'st thou my countrymen prepare thee torturesThat shock imagination but to think of?Thou wilt be mangled, butcher'd, rack'd, impal'd.Does not thy nature shrink?

Reg.(smiling at his threats.) Hamilcar! no.Dost thou not know the Roman genius better?We live on honour—'tis our food, our life.The motive, and the measure of our deeds!We look on death as on a common object;The tongue nor faulters, nor the cheek turns pale,Nor the calm eye is mov'd at sight of him:We court, and we embrace him undismay'd;We smile at tortures if they lead to glory,And only cowardice and guilt appal us.

Ham.Fine sophistry! the valour of the tongue,The heart disclaims it; leave this pomp of words,And cease dissembling with a friend like me.I know that life is dear to all who live,That death is dreadful,—yes, and must be fear'd,E'en by the frozen apathists of Rome.

Reg.Did I fear death when on Bagrada's banksI fac'd and slew the formidable serpentThat made your boldest Africans recoil,And shrink with horror, though the monster liv'dA native inmate of their own parch'd deserts?Did I fear death before the gates of Adis?—Ask Bostar, or let Asdrubal confess.

Ham.Or shall I rather of Xantippus ask,Who dar'd to undeceive deluded Rome,And prove this vaunter not invincible?'Tis even said, in Africa I mean,He made a prisoner of this demigod.—Did we not triumph then?

Reg.Vain boaster! no.No Carthaginian conquer'd Regulus;Xantippus was a Greek—a brave one too:Yet what distinction did your Afric makeBetween the man who serv'd her, and her foe:I was the object of her open hate;He, of her secret, dark malignity.He durst not trust the nation he had sav'd;He knew, and therefore fear'd you.—Yes, he knewWhere once you were oblig'd you ne'er forgave.Could you forgive at all, you'd rather pardonThe man who hated, than the man who serv'd you.Xantippus found his ruin ere it reach'd him,Lurking behind your honours and rewards;Found it in your feign'd courtesies and fawnings.When vice intends to strike a master stroke,Its veil is smiles, its language protestations.The Spartan's merit threaten'd, but his serviceCompell'd his ruin.—Both you could not pardon.

Ham.Come, come, I know full well——

Reg.Barbarian! peace.I've heard too much.—Go, call thy followers:Prepare thy ships, and learn to do thy duty.

Ham.Yes!—show thyself intrepid, and insult me;Call mine the blindness of barbarian friendship.On Tiber's banks I hear thee, and am calm:But know, thou scornful Roman! that too soonIn Carthage thou may'st fear and feel my vengeance:Thy cold, obdurate pride shall there confess,Though Rome may talk—'tis Africa can punish.

Reg.Farewell! I've not a thought to waste on thee.Where is the Consul? why does Publius stay?Alas! I fear—but see Attilia comes!—

Reg.What brings thee here, my child? what eager joyTransports thee thus?

At.I cannot speak—my father!Joy chokes my utterance—Rome, dear grateful Rome,(Oh, may her cup with blessings overflow!)Gives up our common destiny to thee;Faithful and constant to th' advice thou gav'st her,She will not hear of peace, or change of slaves,But she insists—reward and bless her, gods!—That thou shalt here remain.

Reg.What! with the shame——

At.Oh! no—the sacred senate hath consider'dThat when to Carthage thou did'st pledge thy faith,Thou wast a captive, and that being such,Thou could'st not bind thyself in covenant.

Reg.He who can die, is always free, my child!Learn farther, he who owns another's strengthConfesses his own weakness.—Let them know,I swore I would return because I chose it,And will return, because I swore to do it.

Pub.Vain is that hope, my father.

Reg.Who shall stop me?

Pub.All Rome.——The citizens are up in arms:In vain would reason stop the growing torrent;In vain wouldst thou attempt to reach the port,The way is barr'd by thronging multitudes:The other streets of Rome are all deserted.

Reg.Where, where is Manlius?

Pub.He is still thy friend:His single voice opposes a whole people;He threats this moment and the next entreats,But all in vain; none hear him, none obey.The general fury rises e'en to madness.The axes tremble in the lictors' hands,Who, pale and spiritless, want power to use them—And one wild scene of anarchy prevails.

Reg.Farewell! my daughter. Publius, follow me.

At.Ah! where? I tremble——

Reg.To assist my friend—T' upbraid my hapless country with her crime—To keep unstain'd the glory of these chains—To go, or perish.

At.Oh! have mercy!

Reg.Hold;I have been patient with thee; have indulg'dToo much the fond affections of thy soul;It is enough; thy grief would now offendThy father's honour; do not let thy tearsConspire with Rome to rob me of my triumph.

At.Alas! it wounds my soul.

Reg.I know it does.I know 'twill grieve thy gentle heart to lose me;But think, thou mak'st the sacrifice to Rome,And all is well again.

At.Alas! my father,In aught beside——

Reg.What wouldst thou do, my child?Canst thou direct the destiny of Rome,And boldly plead amid the assembled senate?Canst thou, forgetting all thy sex's softness,Fiercely engage in hardy deeds of arms?Canst thou encounter labour, toil and famine,Fatigue and hardships, watchings, cold and heat?Canst thou attempt to serve thy country thus?Thou canst not:—but thou may'st sustain my lossWithout these agonising pains of grief,And set a bright example of submission,Worthy a Roman's daughter.

At.Yet such fortitude—

Reg.Is a most painful virtue;—but AttiliaIs Regulus's daughter, and must have it.

At.I will entreat the gods to give it me.Ah! thou art offended! I have lost thy love.

Reg.Is this concern a mark that thou hast lost it?I cannot, cannot spurn my weeping child.Receive this proof of my paternal fondness;—Thou lov'st Licinius—he too loves my daughter.I give thee to his wishes; I do more—I give thee to his virtues.—Yes, Attilia,The noble youth deserves this dearest pledgeThy father's friendship ever can bestow.

At.My lord! my father! wilt thou, canst thou leave me?The tender father will not quit his child!

Reg.I am, I am thy father! as a proof,I leave thee my example how to suffer.My child! I have a heart within this bosom;That heart has passions—see in what we differ;Passion—which is thy tyrant—is my slave.

At.Ah! stay my father. Ah!—

Reg.Farewell! farewell!

At.Yes, Regulus! I feel thy spirit here,Thy mighty spirit struggling in this breast,And it shall conquer all these coward feelings,It shall subdue the woman in my soul;A Roman virgin should be something more—Should dare above her sex's narrow limits—And I will dare—and mis'ry shall assist me—My father! I will be indeed thy daughter!The hero shall no more disdain his child;Attilia shall not be the only branchThat yields dishonour to the parent tree.

Barce.Attilia! is it true that Regulus,In spite of senate, people, augurs, friends,And children, will depart?

At.Yes, it is true.

Barce.Oh! what romantic madness!

At.You forget—Barce! the deeds of heroes claim respect.

Barce.Dost thou approve a virtue which must leadTo chains, to tortures, and to certain death?

At.Barce! those chains, those tortures, and that death,Will be his triumph.

Barce.Thou art pleas'd, Attilia:By heav'n thou dost exult in his destruction!

At.Ah! pitying powers.[Weeps.

Barce.I do not comprehend thee.

At.No, Barce, I believe it.—Why, how shouldst thou?If I mistake not, thou wast born in Carthage,In a barbarian land, where never childWas taught to triumph in a father's chains.

Barce.Yet thou dost weep—thy tears at least are honest,For they refuse to share thy tongue's deceit;They speak the genuine language of affliction,And tell the sorrows that oppress thy soul.

At.Grief, that dissolves in tears, relieves the heart.When congregated vapours melt in rain,The sky is calm'd, and all's serene again.

Barce.Why, what a strange, fantastic land is this!This love of glory's the disease of Rome;It makes her mad, it is a wild delirium,An universal and contagious frenzy;It preys on all, it spares nor sex nor age:The Consul envies Regulus his chains—He, not less mad, contemns his life and freedom—The daughter glories in the father's ruin—And Publius, more distracted than the rest,Resigns the object that his soul adores,For this vain phantom, for this empty glory.This may be virtue; but I thank the gods,The soul of Barce's not a Roman soul.

Lic.Rome will not suffer Regulus to go.

Man.I thought the Consul and the SenatorsHad been a part of Rome.

Lic.I grant they are—But still the people are the greater part.

Man.The greater, not the wiser.

Lic.The less cruel.——Full of esteem and gratitude to Regulus,We would preserve his life.

Man.And we his honour.

Lic.His honour!——

Man.Yes. Time presses. Words are vain.Make way there—clear the passage.

Lic.On your lives,Stir not a man.

Man.I do command you, go.

Lic.And I forbid it.

Man.Clear the way, my friends.How dares Licinius thus oppose the Consul?

Lic.How dar'st thou, Manlius, thus oppose the Tribune?

Man.I'll show thee what I dare, imprudent boy!—Lictors, force through the passage.

Lic.Romans, guard it.

Man.Gods! is my power resisted then with arms?Thou dost affront the Majesty of Rome.

Lic.The Majesty of Rome is in the people;Thou dost insult it by opposing them.

People.Let noble Regulus remain in Rome.

Man.My friends, let me explain this treacherous scheme.

People.We will not hear thee——Regulus shall stay.

Man.What! none obey me?

People.Regulus shall stay.

Man.Romans, attend.——

People.Let Regulus remain.

Reg.Let Regulus remain! What do I hear?Is't possible the wish should come from you?Can Romans give, or Regulus accept,A life of infamy? Is't possible?Where is the ancient virtue of my country?Rise, rise, ye mighty spirits of old Rome!I do invoke you from your silent tombs;Fabricius, Cocles, and Camillus, rise,And show your sons what their great fathers were.My countrymen, what crime have I committed?Alas! how has the wretched RegulusDeserv'd your hatred?

Lic.Hatred?ah! my friend,It is our love would break these cruel chains.

Reg.If you deprive me of my chains, I'm nothing;They are my honours, riches, titles,—all!They'll shame my enemies, and grace my country;They'll waft her glory to remotest climes,Beyond her provinces and conquer'd realms,Where yet her conq'ring eagles never flew;Nor shall she blush hereafter if she findRecorded with her faithful citizensThe name of Regulus, the captive Regulus.My countrymen! what, think you, kept in aweThe Volsci, Sabines, Æqui, and Hernici?The arms of Rome alone? no, 'twas her virtue;That sole surviving good, which brave men keepThough fate and warring worlds combine against them:This still is mine—and I'll preserve it, Romans!The wealth of Plutus shall not bribe it from me!If you, alas! require this sacrifice,Carthage herself was less my foe than Rome;She took my freedom—she could take no more;But Rome, to crown her work, would take my honour.My friends! if you deprive me of my chains,I am no more than any other slave:Yes, Regulus becomes a common captive,A wretched, lying, perjur'd fugitive!But if, to grace my bonds, you leave my honour,I shall be still a Roman, though a slave.

Lic.What faith should be observ'd with savages?What promise should be kept which bonds extort?

Reg.Unworthy subterfuge! ah! let us leaveTo the wild Arab and the faithless MoorThese wretched maxims of deceit and fraud:Examples ne'er can justify the coward:The brave man never seeks a vindication,Save from his own just bosom and the gods;From principle, not precedent, he acts:As that arraigns him, or as that acquits,He stands or falls; condemn'd or justified.

Lic.Rome is no more if Regulus departs.

Reg.Let Rome remember Regulus must die!Nor would the moment of my death be distant,If nature's work had been reserv'd for nature:What Carthage means to do,shewould have doneAs speedily, perhaps, at least as surely.My wearied life has almost reach'd its goal;The once-warm current stagnates in these veins,Or through its icy channels slowly creeps——View the weak arm; mark the pale furrow'd cheek,The slacken'd sinew, and the dim sunk eye,And tell me then I must not think of dying!How can I serve you else? My feeble limbsWould totter now beneath the armour's weight,The burden of that body it once shielded.You see, my friends, you see, my countrymen,I can no longer show myself a Roman,Except by dying like one.——Gracious HeavenPoints out a way to crown my days with glory;Oh, do not frustrate, then, the will of Jove,And close a life of virtue with disgrace!Come, come, I know my noble Romans better;I see your souls, I read repentance in them;You all applaud me—nay, you wish my chains:'Twas nothing but excess of love misled you,And as you're Romans you will conquer that.Yes!—I perceive your weakness is subdu'd—Seize, seize the moment of returning virtue;Throw to the ground, my sons, those hostile arms;Retard no longer Regulus's triumph;I do request it of you, as a friend,I call you to your duty, as a patriot,And—were I still your gen'ral, I'd command you.

Lic.Lay down your arms—let Regulus depart.

Reg.Gods! gods! I thank you—you indeed are righteous.

Pub.See every man disarm'd. Oh, Rome! oh, father!

At.Hold, hold my heart. Alas! they all obey.

Reg.The way is clear. Hamilcar, I attend thee.

Ham.Why, I begin to envy this old man![Aside.

Man.Not the proud victor on the day of triumph,Warm from the slaughter of dispeopled realms,Though conquer'd princes grace his chariot wheels,Though tributary monarchs wait his nod,And vanquish'd nations bend the knee before him,E'er shone with half the lustre that surroundsThis voluntary sacrifice for Rome!Who loves his country will obey her laws;Who most obeys them is the truest patriot.

Reg.Be our last parting worthy of ourselves.Farewell! my friends.—I bless the gods who rule us,Since I must leave you, that I leave you Romans.Preserve the glorious name untainted still,And you shall be the rulers of the globe,The arbiters of earth. The farthest east,Beyond where Ganges rolls his rapid flood,Shall proudly emulate the Roman name.(Kneels.) Ye gods, the guardians of this glorious people,Who watch with jealous eye Æneas' race,This land of heroes I commit to you!This ground, these walls, this people be your care!Oh! bless them, bless them with a liberal hand!Let fortitude and valour, truth and justice,For ever flourish and increase among them!And if some baneful planet threat the CapitolWith its malignant influence, oh, avert it!—Be Regulus the victim of your wrath.—On this white head be all your vengeance pour'd,But spare, oh, spare, and bless immortal Rome!Ah! tears? my Romans weep? Farewell! farewell!

Man.(looking after him.)Farewell! farewell! thou glory of mankind!Protector, father, saviour of thy country!Through Regulus the Roman name shall live,Shall triumph over time, and mock oblivion.Farewell! thou pride of this immortal coast!'Tis Rome alone a Regulus can boast.

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