Val. Gentle lady, The scene was piteous, though its end be peace. Horatia. Peace? O, my fluttering heart! by what kind means? Val. "Twere tedious, lady, and unnecessary, To paint the disposition of the field; Suffice it, we were armed, and front to front The adverse legions heard the trumpet's sound: But vain was the alarm, for motionless, And wrapt in thought, they stood; the kindred ranks Had caught each other's eyes, nor dared to lift Then nearer drew, and at the third alarm, Hor. "Twas so, just so, (Though I was then a child, yet I have heard you Blessed be the friendly grief that touched their souls! Blessed be Hostilius for the generous counsel! Blessed be the meeting chiefs! and blessed the tongue, Which brings the gentle tidings! Valeria. Now, Horatia, Your idle fears are o'er. Horatia. Yet one remains. Who are the champions? Are they yet elected? Has Rome Val. The Roman chiefs now meet in council, And ask the presence of the sage Horatius. Hor. [After having seemed some time in thought. Horatia. [In a fright.] My father! Val. Rest satisfied, Sweet lady! 'tis so solemnly agreed to, Hor. And yet 'twere well to end these civil The neighbouring states might take advantage of them. -But I interrupt-Would I were young again! How glorious Were death in such a cause!-And yet, who knows Proceed, Valerius, they would hear the event. Even to the thickest press, and cried, 'My friends, The flight of earth-born kings, whose low ambi tion But tends to lay the face of nature waste, Val. As he himself could wish, with eager transport. In short, the Roman and the Alban chiefs Horatia. Kind Heaven, I thank thee! This is your home, I find: your lovely friend, And you, I doubt not, have indulged strange fears, And run o'er all the horrid scenes of war? Valeria. Though we are women, brother, we are Romans, Not to be scared with shadows, though not proof 'Gainst all alarms, when real danger threatens. Horatia. [With some hesitation.] My brothers, gentle sir, you said were well. you their noble friends, the Curiatii? The truce, perhaps, permitted it. Val. Yes, lady, Saw I left them jocund in your brothers' tent, parted, Joying to meet again. 4 E me; While war continued, I had gleams of hope; Valeria. Yes, now you must resolve to follow The advice I gave you first, and root this passion Entirely from your heart; for know, she doats, Even to distraction doats on Curiatius; And every fear she felt, while danger threatened, Will now endear him more. Val. Cruel Valeria, You triumph in my pain! Valeria. By Heaven, I do not; I only would extirpate every thought Val. Yet we first Should try the gentler. Valeria. Did I not? Ye powers! Did I not soothe your griefs, indulge your fond ness, While the least prospect of success remained? Was never won by tales of bleeding love : Valeria. True, these are arts for those that You had no time for tedious stratagem; 'Tis not impossible—divide their hearts, I might, perhaps, have hope: therefore 'till marriage Cuts off all commerce, and confirms me wretched, Be it thy task, my sister, with fond stories, How did this lover talk of his Horatia? Val. Why will you mention that ungrateful subject? Think what you've heard me breathe a thousand times, When my whole soul dissolved in tenderness; Exit. ACT II. SCENE I-Continues. Enter HORATIA and VALERIA. Horatia. ALAS, how easily do we admit The thing we wish were true! yet sure, Valeria, This seeming negligence of Curiatius Betrays a secret coldness at the heart. May not long absence, or the charms of war, Have damped, at least, if not effaced his passion? I know not what to think. Valeria. Think, my Horatia, That you're a lover, and have learned the art Has brought him back thus early. Oh, my heart! Valeria. You're soon returned, my lord. My life, my youth's returned; I tread in air! The dear defence, the guardian gods of Rome!By Heaven, thou stand'st unmoved, nor feels thy breast The charms of glory, the extatic warmth, Which beams new life, and lifts us nearer Heaven! Horatia. My gracious father, with surprize and transport I heard the tidings, as becomes your daughter. Hor. Survive! By Heaven, I could not hope that they should all survive. Enter PUBLIUS HORATIUS, [Offering to kneel. Pub. My father! Hor. Hence! Kneel not to me-stand off; and let me view At distance, and with reverential awe, The champion of my country!-Oh, my boy! That I should live to this-my soul's too full; Let this and this speak for me. Bless thee, bless thee! [Embracing him. But wherefore art thou absent from the camp? Where are thy brothers? Has the Alban state Determined? Is the time of combat fixed? Pub. Think not, my lord, that filial reverence, However due, had drawn me from the field, Where nobler duty calls; a patriot's soul Can feel no humbler ties, nor knows the voice Of kindred, when his country claims his aid. It was the king's command I should attend you, Else had I staid till wreaths immortal graced My brows, and made thee proud indeed to see Bencath thy roof, and bending for thy blessing, Not thine, Horatius, but the son of Rome! Hor. Oh, virtuous pride!-'tis bliss too exquisite For human sense !-thus, let me answer thee. [Embracing him again. Where are my other boys? Pub. They only wait Till Alba's loitering chiefs declare her champions, Our future victims, sir, and with the news Will greet their father's ear. Hor. It shall not need ; Myself will to the field. Come, let us haste! He with impatience waits the lucky moment, bro Hor. [Having talked apart with Valeria.] Tis truly Roman. Here's a maid, Horatia, Laments her brother lost the glorious proof Of dying for his country. Come, my son, Her softness will infect thee; prithee, leave her. Horatia. [Looking first on her father, and then tenderly on her brother.] Not till my soul has poured its wishes for him. Hear me, dread God of War! protect and save him! [Kneeling. For thee, and thy immortal Rome, he fights! Dash the proud spear from every hostile hand That dare oppose him! may each Alban chief Fly from his presence, or his vengeance feel! And when in triumph he returns to Rome, [Rising. Hail him, ye maids, with grateful songs of praise, And scatter all the blooming spring before him; Cursed be the envious brow that smiles not then, Cursed be the wretch that wears one mark of sorrow, Or flies not thus with open arms to greet him! Val. The king, my lord, approaches. Whence comes this condescension? Tul. Good old man, Could I have found a nobler messenger, Of patriot in you. Think, how dreadful 'tis In one short hour, whole years of virtuous friendship. Think well on that. Pub. I do, my gracious sovereign; And think, the more I dare subdue affection, Tul. True; but yet consider, Is it an easy task to change affections? At once the frown of war, and stern defiance? And tell me if thy breast be still unmoved? Pub. Think not, oh, king, howe'er resolved on I sit so loosely to the bonds of nature, To what we owe the public. Partial ties Tul. Now I dare trust thee; go and teach thy To think like thee, and conquest is your own. May make a coward of him. Come, Horatius, Hor. Gracious sir, We'll follow on the instant. Tul. Then, farewell! [To one of the guards. When next we meet, 'tis Rome and liberty! [Exit with guards. Hor. Come, let me arm thee for the glorious toil. I have a sword, whose lightning oft has blazed And stained with life-blood many a reeking plain. Though I detest the cause from whence they spring, I feel thy sister's sorrows like a father. Pub. And may remain so. This sudden shock has but alarmed her virtue, Not quite subdued its force. At least, my father, Time's lenient hand will teach her to endure You heard the king's commands about my bro-, thers, |