Is it to propagate th' unspotted law
We fight? 'Tis well; it is a noble cause;
But much I fear infection is among us;
A boundless lust of rapine guides our troops.
We learn the christian vices we chastise,
And, tempted with the pleasures of the soil,
More than with distant hopes-of Paradise,
I fear, may soon-but oh, avert it Heaven!
Fall even a prey to our own spoils and conquests.
Cal. No-thou mistak'st; thy pious zeal deceives
thee.
Our prophet only chides our sluggard valour.
Thou saw'st how in the vale of Honan once
The troops, as now defeated, fled confus'd
Even to the gates of Mecca's holy city?
Till Mahomet himself there stopp'd their entrance.
A javelin in his hand, and turn'd them back
Upon the foe; they fought again, and conquer❜d.
Behold how we may best appease his wrath!
His own example points us out the way.
Abu. Well--be it then resolv'd. Th' indulgent
Of better fortune is, I hope, at hand.
And yet, since Phocyas has appear'd its champion,
How has this city rais'd its drooping head!
As if some charm prevail'd where'er he fought;
Our strength scems wither'd, and our feeble weapons
Forget their wonted triumph-were he absent-
Cal. I would have sought him out in the last action,
To single fight, and put that charm to proof,
Had not a foul and sudden mist arose
Ere I arriv'd, to have restor'd the combat.
But let it be—'tis past. We yet may meet,
And 'twill be known whose arm is then the stronger.
Dar. Health to the race of Ismael! and days More prosperous than the last—a christian captive
Is fall'n within my watch, and waits his doom.
Cal. Bring forth the slave !-O thou keen vulture,
death!
Do we then feed thee only thus by morsels!
Whole armies never can suffice thy anger.
[DARAN goes out, and re-enters with
PHOCYAS.
Whence, and what art thou!-Of Damascus? Daran,
Where didst thou find this dumb and sullen thing, That seems to lour defiance on our anger?
Dar. Marching in circuit, with the horse thou gav'st me,
T'observe the city gates, I saw from far
Two persons issue forth; the one advanc'd,
And ere he could retreat, my horsemen seiz'd him;
The other was a woman, and had fled,
Upon a signal given at our approach,
And got within the gates. Wouldst thou know more,
Himself, if he will speak, can best inform thee.
Cal. Have I not seen thy face?
Abu. [To CALED.] He hears thee not;
His eyes are fix'd on earth; some deep distress
Is at his heart. This is no common captive.
Cal. A lion in the toils! We soon shall tame him.
Still art thou dumb?-Nay, 'tis in vain to cast
Thy gloomy looks so oft around this place,
Or frown upon thy bonds-thou canst not 'scape.
Pho. Then be it so-the worst is past already,
And life is now not worth a moment's pause.
Do
you not know me yet-think of the man
You have most cause to curse, and I am he.
Cal. Ha! Phocyas?
Abu. Phocyas!-Mahomet, we thank thee! Now dost thou smile again.
Cal. [Aside.] This is indeed a prize!
Is it because thou know'st what slaughter'd heaps There yet unbury'd lie without the camp,
Whose ghosts have all this night, passing the Zorat,
Call'd from the bridge of death to thee to follow,
That now thou'rt here to answer to their cry?
Howe'er it be, thou know'st thy welcome-
Pho. Yes,
Thou proud, blood-thirsty Arab!-Well I know
What to expect from thee: I know ye all.
How should the author of distress and ruin
Be mov'd to pity? That's a human passion.
No-in your hungry eyes, that look revenge,
I read my doom.
Where are your racks, your tor
-lead me to them; I can bear
The worst of ills from you. You're not my friends,
My countrymen.-Yet were you men, I could
Unfold a story-But no more-)
-Eumenes,
Thou hast thy wish, and I am now-a worm!
Abu. [To ČALED, aside.] Leader of armies, hear
him! for my mind
Presages good accruing to our cause
By this event.
Cal. I tell thee then, thou wrong'st us,
To think our hearts thus steel'd, or our ears deaf
To all that thou may'st utter. Speak, disclose
The secret woes that throb within thy breast.
Now, by the silent hours of night, we'll hear thee,
And mute attention shall await thy words.
Pho. This is not then the palace in Damascus ! you will hear, then I indeed have wrong'd you. How can this be?-When he, for whom I've fought, Fought against you, has yet refus'd to hear me ! You seem surpris'd.-It was ingratitude
That drove me out, an exile, not a foe.
Abu. Is it possible?
Are these thy christian friends?
Cal. "Tis well-we thank them:
They help us to subdue themselves-But who
Was the companion of thy flight?-A woman,
So Daran said-
Pho. 'Tis there I am most wretched
Oh, I am torn from all my soul held dear,
And my life's blood flows out upon the wound!
That woman-'twas for her-How shall I speak it?
Eudocia, Oh, farewell!—I'll tell you, then,
As fast as these heart-rending sighs will let me ;
I lov'd the daughter of the proud Eumenes,
And long in secret woo'd her; not unwelcome
To her my visits; but I fear'd her father,
Who oft had press'd her to detested nuptials,
And therefore durst not, till this night of joy,
Avow to him my courtship. Now I thought her
Mine, by a double claim, of mutual vows,
And service yielded at his greatest need:
When, as I mov'd my suit, with sour disdain,
He mock'd my service, and forbade my love;
Degraded me from the command I bore,
And with defiance bade me seek the foe.
How has his curse prevail'd!-The generous maid
Was won by my distress to leave the city;
And cruel fortune made me thus your prey.
Abu. [Aside.] My soul is mov'd-Thou wert a man,
O, prophet!
Forgive, if 'tis a crime, a human sorrow,
For injur'd worth, though in an enemy!
Pho. Now-since you've heard my story, set me free,
That I may save her yet, dearer than life,
From a tyrannic father's threaten'd force;
Gold, gems, and purple vests, shall pay my ransom;
Nor shall my peaceful sword henceforth be drawn
In fight, nor break its truce with you for ever.
Cal. No-there's one way, a better, and but one,
To save thyself, and make some reparation
For all the numbers thy bold hand has slain.
Pho. O, name it quickly, and my soul will bless thee!
Cal. Embrace our faith, and share with us our for
Pho. Then I am lost again!
Cal. What? when we offer,
Not freedom only, but to raise thee high,
To greatness, conquest, glory, heavenly bliss!
Pho. To sink me down to infamy, perdition,
Here and hereafter! Make my name a curse
To present times, to every future age
A proverb and a scorn!—take back thy mercy,
And know I now disdain it.
The time's too precious to be wasted longer,
In words with thee. Thou know'st thy doom-farewell.
Abu. Hear me, Caled; grant him some short
[Aside to CALED. Perhaps he will at length accept thy bounty.
Try him, at least
Cal. Well-be it so, then. Daran,
Guard well thy charge-Thou hast an hour to live; If thou art wise, thou may'st prolong that term; If not-why-Fare thee well, and think of death. [Exeunt CALED and ABUDAH. Pho. [DARAN waiting at a Distance.] Farewell, and think of death! Was it not so?
Do murderers then preach morality?—
But how to think of what the living know not,
And the dead cannot, or else may not, tell?–
What art thou, O thou great mysterious terror!
The way to thee we know! disease, famine,
Sword, fire, and all thy ever open gates,
That day and night stand ready to receive us.
But what's beyond them ?-Who will draw that veil ?
Yet death's not there-No; 'tis a point of time,
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