Enter EUMENES, followed by a Crowd of PEOPLE. Eum. I'll hear no more. Begone!
Or stop your clamorous mouths, that still are open
To bawl sedition, and consume our corn.
If you will follow me, send home your women,
And follow to the walls; there earn your safety,
As brave men should.—Pity your wives and children!
Yes, I do pity them, Heaven knows I do,
E'en more than you; nor will I yield them up,
Though at your own request, a prey to ruffians-
Herbis, what news?
Herb. News!-we're betray'd, deserted; The works are but half mann'd; the Saracens Perceive it, and pour on such crowds, they blunt Our weapons, and have drain'd our stores of death. What will you next?
Eum. I've sent a fresh recruit;
The valiant Phocyas leads them on—whose deeds,
In early youth assert his noble race;
A more than common ardour seems to warm
His breast, as if he lov'd and courted danger.
Herb. I fear 'twill be too late.
Eum. [Aside.] I fear it too:
And though I brav'd it to the trembling crowd,
I've caught th' infection, and I dread th' event.
'Would I had treated!-but 'tis now too late-
Come, Herbis.
[Exeunt. A great Shout.
Herb. So the tide turns; Phocyas has driven it
The gate once more is ours.
Enter EUMENES, PHOCYAS, ARTA MON, &c.
Eum. Brave Phocyas, thanks! mine and the people's
Yet, that we may not lose this breathing space,
Hang out the flag of truce. You, Artamon,
Haste with a trumpet to th' Arabian chiefs,
And let them know, that, hostages exchang'd,
I'd meet them now upon the eastern plain.
Pho. What means Eumenes ?
Eum. Phocyas, I would try,
By friendly treaty, if, on terms of peace,
They'll yet withdraw their powers.
Pho. On terms of peace!
What peace can you expect from bands of robbers ?
What terms from slaves, but slavery?—You know
These wretches fight not at the call of honour,
That sets the princes of the world in arms.
Base-born, and starv'd amidst their stony deserts,
Long have they view'd from far, with wishing eyes,
Our fruitful vales, and all the verdant wealth
That crowns fair Lebanon's aspiring brows.
Here have the locusts pitch'd, nor will they leave
These tasted sweets, these blooming fields of plenty,
For barren sands and native poverty,
Till driven away by force.
Eum. What can we do?
Our people in despair, our soldiers harrass'd
With daily toil, and constant nightly watch:
Our hopes of succour from the emperor
Uncertain; Eutyches not yet return'd,
That went to ask them; one brave army beaten ;
Th' Arabians numerous, cruel, flush'd with conquest.
Herb. Besides, you know what phrenzy fires their
minds,
Of their new faith, and drives them on to danger.
Eum. True;-they pretend the gates of Paradise,
Stand ever open to receive the souls
Of all, that die in fighting for their cause.
Pho. Then would I send their souls to Paradise,
And give their bodies to our Syrian eagles.
Our ebb of fortune is not yet so low,
To leave us desperate. Aids may soon arrive;
Mean time, in spite of their late bold attack,
The city still is ours; their force repell❜d,
And therefore weaker; proud of this success,
Our soldiers too have gain'd redoubled courage,
And long to meet them on the open plain.
What hinders, then, but we repay this outrage,
And sally on their camp?
Believe th' occasion fair, by this advantage,
To purchase their retreat on easy terms:
That failing, we the better stand acquitted
To our own citizens. However, brave Phocyas,
Cherish this ardour in the soldiery,
And in our absence form what force thou canst,
Then if these hungry bloodhounds of the war
Should still be deaf to peace, at our return
Our widen'd gates shall pour a sudden flood
Of vengeance on them, and chastise their scorn.
A Plain before the City. A Prospect of Tents at a Distance.
Enter CALED, ABUDAH, and DARAN.
Dar. To treat, my chiefs!—What! are we merchants then,
That only come to traffic with those Syrians,
And poorly cheapen conquest on conditions?
No; we were sent to fight the caliph's battles,
Till every iron neck bend to obedience.
Another storm makes this proud city ours;
What need we treat?—I am for war and plunder.
Cal. Why, so am I-and but to save the lives
Of mussulmans, not christians, I would not treat.
I hate these christian dogs; and 'tis our task,
As thou observ'st, to fight; our law enjoins it:
Heaven, too, is promis'd only to the valiant.
Oft has our prophet said, the happy plains
Above, lie stretch'd beneath the blaze of swords.
Abu. Yet, Daran's loth to trust that heaven for
pay;
This earth, it seems, has gifts that please him more. Cal. Check not his zeal, Abudah.
Yet, I could wish that zeal had better motives,
Has victory no fruits but blood and plunder ?
That we were sent to fight, 'tis true; but wherefore?
For conquest, not destruction. That obtain'd,
The more we spare, the caliph has more subjects,
And Heaven is better serv'd-But see, they come!
Enter EUMENES, HERBIS, and ARTAMON.
Cal. Well, christians, we are met-and war a while, At your request, has still'd his angry voice, To hear what you will purpose.
After so many troops you've lost in vain,
If you'll draw off in peace, and save the rest.
Herb. Or rather to know first-for yet we know
Why on your heads you call our pointed arrows,
In our own just defence? What means this visit?
And why see we so many thousand tents
Rise in the air, and whiten all our fields?
Cal. Is that a question now? you had our sum
When first we march'd against you, to surrender.
Two moons have wasted since, and now the third
Is in its wane. Tis true, drawn off a while,
At Aiznadin we met and fought the powers
Sent by your emperor to raise our siege.
Vainly you thought us gone; we gain'd a conquest.
You see we are return'd; our hearts, our cause,
Our swords the same.
Herb. But why those swords were drawn, And what's the cause, inform us.
Eum. Speak your wrongs,
If wrongs you have receiv'd, and by what means
They may be now repair'd.
Abu. Then, christians, hear!
And Heaven inspire you to embrace its truth!
Not wrongs t'avenge, but to establish right,
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