5.2. SCENE 2d An Apartment in Mirza's Palace.
Will ye not hear ye ever Gracious God's?
Since ſure you do not Joy in our Misfortunes,
But only try the ſtrength of our frail Vertue.
Are not my Sorrows full? Can ought be added?
My Royal Lord! and Father! ye dear Names
In which my All of Happineſs was ſumm'd.
What have the Miniſters of Fate done with you?
Are you not dead? too ſure! that's paſt a doubt;
O Memnon! oh my Prince! my Father! oh my Husband!
Such Juno was (except alone thoſe Tears)
When, upon Ida's top, ſhe Charm'd the God
That long had been a Stranger to her Bed;
Made him forget the Buſineſs of the World,
And lay aſide his Providence, t' Employ
The whole Divinity upon her Beauty.
And ſure 'twas worth the while, had I been Jove,
So had I too been pleas'd, to be deceiv'd
Into Immortal Joys. Oh ceaſe thy Tears!—
Give 'em me back, or if the Grave and Thou
Reſtore to none, oh joyn my Fate to theirs;
Shut us together in ſome ſilent Vault,
Where I may ſit and Weep 'till Death's kind Hand
Shall lay me gently by my Lord's dear ſide,
And huſh my Sorrows in Eternal Slumber.
In pity to your form aſſwage thoſe Tears,
Sorrow is Beauty's bane; nor let your Breaſt
Harbour a Fear; I wage not War with fair ones;
But wiſh you would efface thoſe ugly thoughts,
That live in your remembrance to perplex you;
Let Joy, the Native of your Soul return,
And love's gay God ſit ſmiling in your Eyes,
As E'rſt he did; I wiſh you wondrous well,
And would ſo fully Recompence the Loſs
You fondly Mourn, that when you count the Gains,
Your ſelf ſhould own your Fortunes are well chang'd,
Oh Impious Comforter! talk'ſt thou of Joy,
When Nature dictates only Death and Horrour?
Is there a God can break the Laws of Fate?
And give me back the pretious lives I've loſt?
What nam'ſt thou Recompence? Can ought attone
For Blood? a Father's and a Husband's Blood?
Such Comfort brings the Hungry Midnight Wolf,
When having ſlain the Shepheard, ſmear'd with Gore,
He leaps amid'ſt the helpleſs bleating Flock.
Away with this Perverſneſs of thy Sex,
Theſe fooliſh Tears, theſe peeviſh Sighs and Sobbings!
Look up be gay and Chear me with thy Beauties,
And, to thy wiſh I will Indulge thy Fancy,
Not all the imagin'd Splendor of the God's
Shall match thy Pomp, ſublimely ſhalt thou Shine
The Boaſt and Glory of our Aſian World;
Nor ſhall one She of all thy towring Sex
Outrival thee (thou lovely fair) in Power,
Oh think on Power, on power and place Supreme.
There is but one, one only thing to think on,
My Murther'd Lord and his dark gaping Grave,
That waits unclos'd impatient of my coming.
Oh liſten gentle Maid while I impart
A Story of ſuch ſoftneſs to thy Ear,
As (like the Halcyon brooding o're the Waves)
May with its influence huſh thy ſtormy Griefs.
Begone, and if thou bear'ſt one thought of Pity
In that hard Breaſt; oh leave me to my ſelf,
Nor by thy preſence hideous to my Soul,
And horrid Conſolations ſtrive to add
To my full woes that ſwell'd without thy help,
All ready riſe and bubble o're the Margent.
What if I talk'd of Love?
Of Love! oh Monſter!
If Love be Monſtrous ſo is this fair Frame,
This Beauteous World, this Canopy the Sky;
That ſparkling ſhines with Gems of Light innumerable,
And ſo art thou and I; ſince Love made all;
Who kindly reconcil'd the jarring Atoms
In friendly league, and bid 'em be a World.
Prime not thy lovely Mouth then to Blaſpheme
Thy great Creator, thou art his, and made for
His more peculiar Service; thy bright Eyes,
Thy moiſt Red Lip, thy riſing ſnowy Boſom,
Thy every part was made to furniſh Joy,
Ev'n to a riotous Exceſs of Happineſs;
Oh give me but to taſt thy bliſsful Charms,
And take my Wealth, my Honour, Power, take all,
All, All for Recompence.
Thus! Is it thus thou would'ſt aſſwage my Sorrows?
When thy inhuman Bloody Cruelty,
Now with redoubling Pangs cleaves my poor Heart,
Com'ſt thou beſpotted with the recent Slaughter
To pro [...]er Impious Love? accurſed Fiend!
Horror and Grief ſhall turn me to a Fury,
Still with my Ecchoing Cries, I will purſue thee,
And hallow Vengeance in thy guilty Ears;
Vengeance for Murther! for my Prince's Murther!
And ſo, my poor old Father think not Villain
Who art the plague and ſcourge of Human kind;
That there is Peace for thee whilſt I run Mad
With raging Sorrow; Vengeance, Vengeance waits thee
Great as my Woes!—My dear! dear! Artaxerxes!
I am not lucky at the gloſſing Art Aſide.
Of catching Girls with words, but 'tis no matter, Aſide.
Force is a ſure reſort, and when at laſt Aſide.
Fierce as a towring Falcon from her height, Aſide.
I ſtoop to ſtrike the Prey, it is my own. Aſide.
Obſtinate Fool! how dar'ſt thou Croſs my wiſhes:
Since the ſame hand that has aveng'd me well,
Upon my other Foes Commands thy Fate,
Tho' Mercy in Compaſſion of thy Beauty
Reach out her Hand to ſave thee, yet if urg'd
Revenge may ſtill take place; think well on that.
That, that is all the Mercy which I ask,
Indulge thy thirſty Malice in my Blood,
And haſten me to Peace. My Woman's Heart
Shall gather all it's little ſtock of Courage
To Arm me for the blow. Tho' Death be terrible,
Ghaſtly and Pale; yet I will joy to meet him;
My better Life already is deſtroy'd,
Imperfect now and wanting half my ſelf,
I wonder here in vain, and want thy Hand
To guide and re unite me to my Lord.
Alas! thou haſt not read aright thy Deſtiny,
Matter of much import requires thy Life,
And ſtill detains thee here; Come, I'll inſtruct thee,
And put thee in the way of Fates Deſign. [laying hold on her.
Nay you muſt not ſtruggle,
Nor frown and look askew; fantaſtick Sex!
That put Men on the drudgery to force you
To your own Satisfaction.
Let me go,
Abhorr'd deteſted Monſter! Shall he brave you
You awful God's? Shall not your lightning blaſt him?
Oh no! Your God's have pleaſures of their own,
Some Mortal Beauty Charms the wanton Jove,
Within whoſe Arms he Revels; nor has leiſure
To mind thy fooliſh ſcreaming.
Hear me now, ſweet Heaven,
Save me ye God's! oh ſave me! ſave me! ſave me!
Come! come along! you ſee you ſtrive in vain. [Striving with her.
Is there no hope of Aid from God's or Men?
Oh let me turn to thee then, kneel to thee,
And with my Pray'rs and Tears implore thy Pity.
Speak, for Inchantment dwells upon thy Tongue,
And all the flattering Spirits in my Blood
Dance nimbly on to the Coeleſtial Sound.
What ſhall I ſay to move him to Compaſſion?
Thus groveling, proſtrate thus upon the Earth,
Let me Conjure you, ſpare my Virgin Honour,
Spare to commit a Wrong to you unprofitable;
Yet worſe to me than Torments, Racks, and Death,
Kill me the laſt of my unhappy Race,
And let old Memnon's Name with me be loſt,
If Death be not enough let me live wretched,
Pull off theſe Robes and Cloath me like a Slave,
Then ſend me out to Labour at ſome Village,
Where I may groan beneath a Cruel Maſter,
Be hardly us'd and want ev'n Food and Raiment;
'Till Cold, and Dirt, and Poverty ſhall Change
And make me loathſome as my fellow wretches.
Oh! Let my Rags Claim only this one Priviledge,
To wrap me in the Grave a ſpotleſs Maid.
That Tongue which pleads makes all intreating vain,
Thy every Motion, each complaining Accent
Warms me afreſh and urges new deſire;
Thou art, thou muſt be mine, not Heaven nor Earth,
Nor the Conſpiring power of Hell ſhall ſave thee;
I long to loſe my Age in thy Embraces,
To bask and wanton in thy warmer Sun
'Till a new Youth ſhoot thro' me.
And thou the Guardian of the Marriage-Bed, [Getting looſe from him
Thou Royal Juno! oh protect thy Votary.
My jaded Age and weak Enervate Limbs
Falter and ſhrink unequal to their Office,
I prithee yeid! Come! yeild and be a Queen! [Laying hold on her again
Yeild and be any thing! I cannot bear
Theſe fierce convulſive Starts, this raging Flame
That drinks my Blood;
Oh! never! never! never!
A Cauſe like this will turn me to a fighter,
To my laſt gaſp to death I will reſiſt.
My Coward ſtrength! doſt thou go back from Beauty?
Rouze and deſerve the Pleaſure thou would'ſt taſt.
Unmanly Traytor!—ſeize him all ye Fiends.
In the ſtruggle ſhe draws his own Ponyard and ſtabs him.
Damnation! oh my Heart! the curſed Steel
Has ſtruck me to the Earth.
There ſink for Ever!
Nor riſe again to plague the wretched World.
My heated Blood ebbs out, and now too late
My cooler Reaſon bids me Curſe my folly;
Oh! Ideot! Ideot! to be caught ſo poorly!
Where are thy fine Arts now? Unravell'd all,
Mangled and torn to pieces by a Girl!
Oh Shame of Wiſdom! when Revenge was ſure,
And Fate was in my graſp, to loſe it all,
Neglect the Noble Game, and run out my Years,
On the purſuit of Joys I could not taſt;
My Memory muſt be the jeſt of Boys.
My boaſted Courage ſinks at ſight of Blood, [letting fall the Ponyard. Mirza attempting to riſe falls again.
Tho' juſtly ſhed, and I grow ſtiff with Horror.
It wo'not be! life guſhes out amain,
And I ſhall die without Revenge or Aid;
What Noiſe is that? without there! Help! [trampling without.
What will become of me?
Enter Orchanes haſtily.
My Lord! where are you?
Bleeding! and on the ground! what wretched Accident?—
Then Fate reſolves to make this Night Compleat,
Such as ſucceeding Horrors ne're ſhall match.
Oh my Orchanes! I am fall'n vilely,
And this laſt part of Life will ſully all
The Wiſdom and Renown of what is paſt,
Methought thou talk'ſt of Horrors, ſpeak 'em boldly,
And try if ought can add to this Confuſion.
Prepare, my Lord, and Summon all your Wiſdom,
Your utmoſt Conſtancy of Soul to hear—
No more! I cannot wait thy Preparation,
Let the ill Fortune take me as it finds me.
Then hear it thus; your Daughter's dead.—
Thy words have met with at unguarded ſide,
And pierce ev'n thro' my Soul. Say, how? where? tell me!—
As with a Guard I kept the Temple Gates,
I heard old Memnon and the Pris'ner Prince
Loud as the roaring Ocean in a Storm,
Ecchoing their Rage thro' the vaſt ſounding dome,
When on a ſudden e're the Night had gain'd
Four hours at moſt, the Noiſe was huſh'd in Silence,
Wondring and Curious of the Cauſe, I enter'd,
And found, oh Grief to ſight! your lovely Daughter
Dreſt like a Boy, then warm and newly dead,
One Wound was on her Breaſt. Why ſhe was there,
Or how we know not; to Compleat the Ill,
The Pris'ners both are fled.
Fled! 'tis impoſſible!
Ha! which way? whither? how? they could not fly!
Oh wond'rous turn of Joy, Are they not dead then?
They could not ſcape the Guards, no other Paſſage
Remain'd but your's, and ev'n that was faſt.
Upon the inſtant I beſet each Avenue
Which to your Palace leads; happily as yet
They are not paſt from thence!
Guard 'em ye God's!
Find 'em again Orchanes, e're I die,
Or I am more than double damn'd; this Loſs
Is worſe than mine, worſe than my Daughter's Death,
'Tis Death of my Revenge. Malicious Fortune!
She took the Moment when my Wiſdom nodded,
And ruin'd me at once. O doating Fool!
Thou Fool of Love and of pernicious Woman!
I ſicken! Nature fails me! oh Revenge!
Will not thy Cordial keep back flying Life?
It ſhall! Orchanes drag that traitreſs to me.
Oh if thou art a Man I charge thee looſe me,
And ſcorn his bidding, ſcorn to be his Slave,
A Devil's drudge in Miſchief. Save me from Death
Have pity on my Youth, oh ſpare my Youth!
Orchanes pulls Ameſtris down to Mirza.
Hearken not to her! drag her! pull her down!
Shall Memnon boaſt of thee while I die Childleſs,
No to Cleone's Ghoſt thou art a Victim,
Oh could I but have ſeen thee with thoſe Eyes
I view thee now, I had been Wiſe and Safe;
That Face ſhall make no more Fools in this World,
Down! bear thy fatal Beauties down to Hell,
And try if thou can'ſt Charm among'ſt the Dead.
Die Witch! Enchantreſs die! [He ſtabs her.
I thank thee Hand at leaſt for this laſt ſervice,
Now fly Orchanes, haſt and tell the Queen
My lateſt Breath ſtays for her—Something I would [Exit Orchanes.
Important to her Service—I Breath ſhort,
Life ſtays in pain, and ſtruggles to be gone,
I ſtrive in vain to hold it—ha! what mean
Theſe fleeting Shades that dance before my ſight?
'Tis Death I feel it plain; the dreadful Change
That Nature ſtarts at. Death!—Death!—what is Death?
'Tis a vaſt diſquiſition, Prieſts and Scholars
Enquire whole Ages, and are yet in Doubt.
My Head turns round!—I eannot form one thought
That pleaſes me about it,—dying—muſt reſolve me.
Oh my hard Fortune! muſt I die? die now? [Mirza dies.
When Artaxerxes calls and bids me live.
His dear lov'd Image ſtays my parting Soul,
And makes it linger in its ruin'd Houſe.
Ha! ſure he's dead!—'tis ſo, and now he ſtands [looking on Mirza.
Arraign'd before the dread Impartial Judges,
To anſwer to a long Account of Crimes;
Had I but ſtrength perhaps my Fate may yet [riſing.
Find out a way to ſave me.
My Love and Father make Life worth my Care,
Alas! My Blood flows faſt; this way I think [goes off faintly
Enter at the other ſide Artaxerxes and Memnon with a Sword and Dark Lanthorn.
Ha! here are Lights! hold up thy Weapon Son.
And ſee Blood! and a Body on the floor!
What means this Scene of Death? what Wretch art thon?
Oh all ye juſter Powers 'tis Mirza! ſee!
He ſeems now dead.
Damnation then is new to him,
And if there be one deeper pit of Sepulchre,
One Plague above the reſt in thoſe dark Regions,
He as the moſt abandon'd Dog may claim it,
And vie for Preference with Devil's themſelves.
The Doors are guarded; Fate has clos'd me round.
Ha! Art thou my Ameſtris?
Oh! my Daughter! [They run to her.
Are ye then come at laſt to bleſs my Eyes
That could not cloſe without one parting view.
Oh hold me or I ſink!—
My Cruel Fears! why art thou pale and faint?
Ha! whence this Blood? oh killing Spectacle!
Forth from my Heart the Crimſon River flows,
My laviſh Heart that haſtily Conſumes
Its ſmall remain of Life: Oh lay me gently
On my laſt Bed the Earth, whoſe Cold hard Boſom
Muſt ſhortly be the place of my long reſt.
What have we done? Or oh if we have fin'd,
What has thy Innocence done to merit this?
That Villain Mirza—
Ha! Say what of him.
Offer'd moſt brutal Outrage to my Honour.
Oh ye Eternal Rulers of the World!
Could you look on unmov'd? But ſay, inſtruct me,
That I may bow before the God that ſav'd thee.
Sure 'twas ſome Chaſter Power that made me bold,
And taught my trembling hand to find the way
With his own Ponyard to the Villains Heart.
Thou art my Daughter ſtill! oh noble Action!
That gives in Death an Interval of Joy.
Juſt in that hour of Fate a Villain enter'd,
By whoſe Aſſiſtance the revengeful Mirza
Forc'd me to ſhare Death with him.
'Tis paſt, 'tis paſt; [lying down.
And all fires thoſe that lighted up my Soul
Glory and bright Ambition languiſh now,
And leave me dark and gloomy as the Grave.
Oh thou ſoft dying ſwcetneſs!—Shall I Rage
And Curſe my ſelf? Curſe ev'n the God's?—Oh no;
I am the Slave of Fate, and bow beneath
The load that preſſes me; am ſunk to Earth
And ne're ſhall riſe again; here will I ſit
And gaze 'till I am nothing.
Alas! My Lord,
Fain would I ſtrive to bid you not be ſad,
Fain would I Chear your Grief; but 'tis in vain;
I know by my own Heart it is impoſſible;
For we have lov'd too well. Oh mournful Nuptials!
Are theſe the Joys of Brides? Indeed 'tis hard,
'Tis very hard to part; I cannot leave you,
The Agonizing Thought diſtracts me; hold me,
Oh hold me faſt, Death ſhall not tear me from you.
Oh could my Arms fence thee from Deſtiny,
The God's might launch their Thunder on my Head;
Plague me with Woes treble to what I feel,
With Joy, I would endure it all to ſave thee;
What ſhall I ſay? what ſhall I do to ſave thee?
Grief ſhakes my Frame, it melts my very Temper;
My manly Conſtancy and Royal Courage
Run guſhing thro' my Eyes; Oh my Ameſtris!
And ſee my Father! his white Beard is wet
With the ſad Dew.
I try'd to Man my Heart,
But could not ſtand the Buffet of this Tempeſt,
It tears me up.—My Child! ha! art thou dying?
Indeed I am very Sick! oh hold me up,
My Pain encreaſes, and a Cold damp Dew
Hangs on my Face. Is there no help? no eaſe?
Have I your Arm my Love?
Thou haſt; My Heart
Doſt thou yet hold.
Say will you not forget me?
When I am laid to moulder in my Tomb?
'Tis ſure you will not, ſtill there will be room
For my remembrance in your Noble Heart;
I know you lov'd me truly: Now! I faint!
Oh ſhield me; ſhield me from that ugly Fantome
The Cave of Death! how dark and deep it is!
I tremble at the ſight:—'tis hideous horror!—
The gloom grows o're me—Let me not lie there [Ameſtris dies.
There Life gave way, and the laſt Roſie Breath
Went in that Sigh. Death like a Brutal Victor
Already enter'd with rudehaſt defaces,
The lovely Frame he has maſter'd; ſee how ſoon
Theſe Starry Eyes have loſt their Light and Luſtre!
Stay let me cloſe their Lids. Now for the reſt
Old Memnon! ha! Grief has transfix'd his Brain,
And he perceives me not!—Now what of thee?
Think'ſt thou to live thou Wretch? Think not of any thing,
Thought is Damnation, 'ris the Plague of Divels
To think on what they are! and ſee this Weapon
Shall Sheild me from it, plunge me in forgetfullneſs.
Er'e the dire Scorpion thought can rouſe to ſting me.
Lend me thy Boſom, my cold Bride; Ill Fortune [Lying by her
Has done its worſt, and we ſhall part no more;
Wait for me, Gentle Spirit, ſince the Stars
Together muſt receive us! [Stabs himſelf] Oh well aim'd!
How fooliſh is the Coward's fear of Death!
Of Death, the gentleſt—ſureſt way to Peace. [Artax. dies
Memnon ſtands looking on the Bodys ſome time and then ſpeaks.
Yet will I gaze! Yet! Tho' my Eys grow ſtiff
And turn to Steel or Marble; here's a ſight
To Bleſs a Father! Theſe! Theſe were your Gifts,
Ye bounteous Gods! you'll ſpare my Thanks for 'em,
You gave me Being too, and ſpun me out
To hoary Wretchedneſs; away! 'twas Cruelty!
Oh Curſed! Curſed! Curſed four Score Years!
Ye heap of Ills! Ye Monſtrous pile of Plagues!
Sure they Lov'd well, the very ſtreams of Blood
That flow from their pale Boſoms meet and miugle.
Stay, let me view 'em better!—Nay! 'tis thus!—
If thou art like thy Mother?—She dy'd too!—
Where is ſhe?—Ha! that Dog, that Villain Mirza!
He bearsher from me; Shall we not purſue?—
The whirl of Battle comes acroſs me, fly!
Begon! They ſhall not, dare not brave me thus!
Hey! 'Tis a glorious Sound, ruſh on my Prince,
We'l ſtart and reach the Goal of Fate at once! [Runs off
Enter on the other ſide Queen and Attendants with lights.
Why am I Summon'd with this call of Death?
This is no common Ruine; Artaxerxes!
And Memnon's Daughter. Mirza thon art fallen
In pompous ſlaughter, Could not all thy Arts,
That Dold about deſtruction to our Enemies,
Guard thy own Life from Fate? Vain boaſt of Wiſdome
That with fantaſtick Pride, like buſie Children,
Builds Paper Towns and Houſes, which at once
The Hand of Chance o'erturns and looſly ſcatters.
Oh Diſmal Sight, [Looking out.
What is it frights thy Eys?
Old Memnon's Body.
'Tis a grateful Horror.
Upon the Floor the batter'd Carcaſs lies
Weltring in gore, whilſt on the Marble wall
A dreadful maſs of Brains, Grey Hair, and Blood
Is ſmear'd in hideous mixture.
Has forc'd a way for the impetuous Soul.
'Tis well he is in peace;—What means this Tumult?
Shout, Claſhing of Swords; Enter an Officer, his Sword drawn.
Fly, Madam, Leſt your perſon be not ſafe,
The Traytor Bagoas, to whoſe Charge you truſted
The prince your Son, has drawn the Guards to join him;
And now aſſiſted by the furious Rabble,
On every ſide they charge thoſe few who keep
This Palace and the Temple, with loud Out-cries,
Proclaiming, that they mean to free the Pris'ners.
Orchanes, e're I fled to give you notice,
Fell by the Prince's hand, the raging Torrent
Bore down our weak reſiſtance, and purſuing
With furious haſte, ev'n trod upon my flight.
This inſtant brings 'em here.
Let 'em come on,
I cannot fear; this Storm is rais'd too late,
I ſtand ſecur'd of all I wiſh already.
Shout and Claſhing of Swords again; Enter Artaban, Cleanthes and Attendants, their Swords drawn.
Then Virtue is in vain, ſince baſe Deceit
And Treachery have triumph'd o'er the Mighty.
Oh! Nature, let me turn my Eyes away,
Leſt I am blaſted by a Mothers ſight.
Ungrateful Rebel! Do thy impious Arms
Purſue me for my too indulgent Fondneſs
And Care for thee?
Well has that Care been ſhewn,
Have you not fouly ſtain'd my ſacred Fame?
Look on that Scene of Blood; the dire Effects
Of cruel Female Arts. But oh! what Recompence;
What can you give me for my murder'd Love?
Has not the Labyrinth of your fatal Counſels
Involv'd my fair, my lovely loſt Cleone?
By our bright Gods I ſwear I will aſſert
The Majeſty of Manly Government,
Nor wear again your Chains, ſtill as our Mother
Be honour'd; rule amongſt your Maids and Eunuchs,
Nor mingle in our State, where mad Confuſion
Shakes the whole frame, to boaſt a Womans Cunning.
Thou talk'ſt as if thy Infant hand could graſp,
Guide and command the Fortune of the World,
But thou art young in pow'r. Remember, Boy,
Thy Father once the Hero of his Age,
Was proud to be the Subject of my Sway,
The Warrior of the Womans Wits gave way,
And found it was his Intereſt to obey.
And doſt thou hope to ſhake off my Command;
Doſt thou? The Creature of my forming hand.
When I aſſert the Power, thou dar'ſt invade,
Like Heaven I will reſolve to be obey'd,
And rule or ruin that which once I made.
Exit Queen and Attendants.
Let a Guard wait the Queen, tho' nature plead
For reverence to her Perſon, jealous power
Muſt watch her ſubtle and ambitious wit.
Haſt thou ſecur'd the impious Prieſt Cleanthes?
Magas, that wretch, that proſtitutes our Gods.
Already he has met the Fate he merited,
This night the Hypocrite in grand Proceſſion
March'd thro' the City to appeaſe the people,
And bore the Gods along to aid his purpoſe.
VVhen on a ſudden, like a Hurricane,
That Starts at once and ruffles all the Ocean,
Some fury more than Mortal ſeis'd the Crowd;
At once they ruſh'd, at once they cry'd revenge;
Then ſnatch'd, and tore the trembling Prieſt to pieces.
VVhat was moſt ſtrange, no Injury was offer'd,
To any of the Brotherhood beſide,
But all their Rage was ended in his Death.
Like formal Juſtice that ſeverely Strikes,
And in an Inſtant is ſerene and calm.
Oh! my Cleanthes, do but caſt thy Thoughts
Back on the recent Story of this Night;
And thou with me wilt wonder, and confeſs
The Gods are great and juſt. VVell have you mark't
Celeſtial powers, your righteous deteſtation
Of Sacrilege, of baſe and bloody Treachery.
May this Example guide my future ſway;
Let Honour, Truth and Juſtice crown my Reign,
Ne're let my Kingly word be giv'n in vain,
But ever ſacred with my Foes remain.
On theſe foundations, ſhall my Empire ſtand,
The Gods ſhall vindicate my juſt Command,
And guard that Power they truſted to my hand.