Wide round the roof a fictious sky was rais'd; 65 A glorious Sun in the meridian blaz'd, A shining Phoenix on th' effusive rays Gay visionary scenes in order stood; Th' obedient figures at her touch disclos'd, 70 75 1762. FROM THE PRINCE OF PARTHIA, A TRAGEDY ACT I. SCENE I The Temple of the Sun. Gotarzes and Phraates Gotarzes. He comes, Arsaces comes! my gallant Brother, T' indulge the tear or wear the gloom of sorrow. And grace the PARTHIAN story. Phraates. Glad Ctes' phon Are lin❜d with crouds, and on the lofty walls 5 ΙΟ 15 20 And taught his lisping tongue to name Arsaces. And gave their murmur to the gen❜ral voice. 25 Gotarzes. The spacious streets which lead up to the Temple Are strew'd with flow'rs: each with frantic joy His garland forms and throws it in the way. What pleasure, Phraates, must swell his bosom, To see the prostrate nation all around him And know he 's made them happy! to hear them Tease the Gods to show'r their blessings on him! Happy Arsaces, fain I 'd imitate Thy matchless worth, and be a shining joy. 330 Phraates. Hark, what a shout was that which pierc'd the skies! It seem'd as tho' all Nature's beings join'd To hail thy glorious Brother. Gotarzes. Now proud Arabia dreads her destin'd chains, 35 Happy Parthial While shame and rout disperses all her sons. Barzaphernes pursues the fugitives, 40 The few whom fav'ring Night redeem'd from slaughter: Swiftly they fled, for fear had wing'd their speed, And made them bless the shade which saf'ty gave. pow'rs Who rule yon heav'n and guide the mov'ments here 45 Gotarzes. And let me speak, for 't is to him I owe 55 That here I stand and breath the common air, And 't is my pride to tell it to the world. One luckless day, as in the eager chace A monstrous Leopard from a bosky fen 60 65 When furiously the savage sprung upon me And tore me to the ground; my treach'rous blade Above my hand snap'd short, and left me quite Defenceless to his rage. Arsaces then, 70 Hearing the din, flew like some pitying pow'r, And quickly freed me from the Monster's paws, Drenching his bright lance in his spotted breast. Phraates. How diff'rent he from arrogant Vardanes! That haughty Prince eyes with a stern contempt All other Mortals, and with lofty mien He treads the earth as tho' he were a God. Nay, I believe that his ambitious soul, Had it but pow'r to its licentious wishes, 75 Would dare dispute with Jove the rule of heav'n; Like a Titanian son, with giant insolence 'Til their red wrath should hurl him headlong down E'en to destruction's lowest pit of horror. Gotarzes. Methinks he wears not that becoming joy 85 Which on this bright occasion gilds the court: For standing 'twixt him and the hope of Empire, 90 Proud of strength, would seek the further shore; But 'ere he the mid-stream gain'd, a poignant pain Shot thro' his well-strung nerves, contracting all, And the stiff joints refus'd their wonted aid. Loudly he cry'd for help: Arsaces heard, 100 Phraates. There's something in the wind, for I've observ'd Of late he much frequents the Queen's apartment, 105 And fain would court her favour. Wild is she To gain revenge for fell Vonones' death, rais'd her IIO Thou hell-born fiend, how horrid is thy form! 115 Phraates. Yet I 've beheld this now so haughty Queen 120 Her chains, and rais'd her to his bed and throne; 125 The fierce Vonones, with the regal crown Of Tisaphernes, her deceased Lord. Gotarzes. And he in wasteful war return'd his thanks, 130 Refus'd the homage he had sworn to pay, And spread Destruction ev'ry where around, 'Til from Arsaces hand he met the fate His crimes déserv'd. Phraates. On whom she 'd wreck her vengeance. 1 135 1759. Gotarzes. She has won 140 By spells, I think, so much on my fond father She rules the realm; her pleasure is a law; All offices and favours are bestow'd As she directs. Phraates. But see, the Prince Vardanes; Proud Lysias with him, he whose soul is harsh With jarring discord. Nought but madding rage 145 150 And shun them now: I know not what it means, But chilling horror shivers o'er my limbs When Lysias I behold. 155 1765. ROBERT ROGERS FROM PONTEACH OR THE SAVAGES OF AMERICA ACT I. SCENE I An Indian Trading House. Enter M'Dole and Murphey, M'Dole. So, Murphey, you are come to try your Fortune Murphey. Ay, any Thing to get an honest Living, Which, 'faith, I find it hard enough to do; Times are so dull and Traders are so plenty 5 That Gains are small and Profits come but slow. M'Dole. Are you experienc'd in this kind of Trade? Know you the Principles by which it prospers, |