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And intermix'd my praises with his own;
His wealth, his rank, his honours, he recounted,
Till, in the midst of arrogance and fondness,
Th' approaching Sultan forc'd me from the palace;
Then, while he gaz'd upon his yielding mistress,
I stole unheeded from their ravish'd eyes,
And sought this happy grove in quest of thee.

DEMIETRIUS, Soon may the final stroke decide our fate, Lest baleful discord crush our infant scheme, And strangled freedom perish in the birth ! A SPASIA. My bosom, harass'd with alternate passions, Now hopes, now fears— -DEMETRIUs. Th anxieties of love. ASPA SIA. Think how the Sov’reign Arbiter of kingdoms Detests thy false associate's black designs, And frowns on perjury, revenge, and murder. Embark'd with treason on the seas of fate, When Heaven shall bid the swelling billows rage, And point vindictive lightnings at rebellion, Will not the patriot share the traitor's danger? Oh, could thy hand unaided free thy country, Nor mingled guilt pollute the sacred cause !


Permitted oft, though not inspir’d by Heaven,
Successful treasons punish impious kings.


Nor end my terrorus with the Sultan's death;
Far as futurity's untravell'd waste
Lies open to conjecture's dubious ken,
On ev'ry side confusion, rage, and death,
Perhaps the phantoms of a woman's fear,
Beset the treacherous way with fatal ambush ;
Each Turkish bosom burns for thy destruction,
Ambitious Cali dreads the statesman's arts,
And hot Abdalla hates the happy lover.


Capricious man to good and ill inconstant,
Too much to fear or trust is equal weakness.
Sometimes the wretch, unaw’d by Heaven or Hell,
With mad devotion idolizes honour.
The Bassa, reeking with his master's murder,
Perhaps may start at violated friendship.

How soon, alas ! will int’rest, fear, or envy,
O'erthrow such weak, such accidental, virtue,
Nor built on faith, nor fortified by conscience?


When desp'rate ills demand a speedy cure,
Distrust is cowardice, and prudence folly.

A SPASIA e Yet think a moment, ere you court destruction : What hand, when death has snatch'd away Demetrius, Shall guard Aspasia from triumphant lust.


Dismiss these needless fears—a troop of Greeks,
Well known, long try’d, expect us on the shore.
Born on the surface of the smiling deep,
Soon shalt thou scorn, in safety’s arms repos'd,
Abdalla's rage and Cali's stratagems.

w ASPASIA. Still, still, distrust sits heavy on my heart. Will e'er an happier hour revisit Greece P

Should Heav'n, yet unappeas'd, refuse its aid,
Disperse our hopes, and frustrate our designs,
Yet shall the conscience of the great attempt
Diffuse a brightness o'er our future days;
Nor will his country's groans reproach Demetrius.
But how canst thou support the woes of exile?
Canst thou forget hereditary splendours,
To live obscure upon a foreign coast,
Content with science, innocence, and love?

Nor wealth, nor titles, make Aspasia’s bliss.
O'erwhelm'd and lost amidst the publick ruins,
Unmov'd I saw the glitt'ring trifles perish,
And thought the petty dross beneath a sigh.
Cheerful I follow to the rural cell;
Love be my wealth, and my distinction virtue.

Submissive, and prepar'd for each event,
Now let us wait the last award of Heav'n,
Secure of happiness from flight or conquest,
Nor fear the fair and learn'd can want protection.
The mighty Tuscan courts the banish'd arts
To kind Italia's hospitable shades;
There shall soft leisure wing th' excursive soul,
And Peace propitious smile on fond desire;
There shall despotic Eloquence resume
Her ancient empire o'er the yielding heart;
There Poetry shall tune her sacred voice,
And wake from ignorance the Western world.

SCENE II. DEMETRIUS, ASPASIA, CA LI. CA LI. At length th' unwilling sun resigns the world To silence and to rest. The hours of darkness, Propitious hours to stratagem and death, Pursue the last remains of ling’ring light. DEMETRIUs. Count not these hours as part of vulgar time, Think them a sacred treasure lent by Heaven, Which, squander'd by neglect, or fear, or folly, No prayer recalls, no diligence redeems. To-morrow's dawn shall see the Turkish king Stretch'd in the dust, or tow'ring on his throne; To-morrow's dawn shall see the mighty Cali The sport of tyranny, or lord of nations. CA LI. Then waste no longer these important moments In soft endearments, and in gentle murmurs; Nor lose in love the patriot and the hero.

D E \{ ETRIUS. 'Tis love, combin'd with guilt alone, that melts The soften’d soul to cowardice and sloth ; But virtuous passion prompts the great resolve, And fans the slumbering spark of heavenly fire, Retire, my Fair; that Pow'r that smiles on goodness, Guide all thy steps, calm ev’ry stormy thought, And still thy bosom with the voice of peace

: A SPASf A.

Soon may we meet again, secure and free,
To feel no more the pangs of Separation [Erit.



This night alone is ours—Our mighty foe,
No longer lost in am’rous solitude,
Will now remount the slighted seat of empire,
And show Irene to the shouting people :
Aspasia left her sighing in his arms,
And list'ning to the pleasing tale of pow'r;
With soften’d voice she dropf the faint refusal,
Smiling consent she sat, and blushing love.
Now, tyrant, with satiety of beauty
Now feast thine eyes, thine eyes that ne'er hereafter
Shall dart their am’rous glances at the fair,
Or glare on Cali with malignant beams.

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