Cal. And dost thou bear me yet, thou patient

earth?

Dost thou not labour with thy murd'rous weight?
And you, ye glitt'ring, heav'nly host of stars,
Hide your fair heads in clouds, or I shall blast you; 246
For I am all contagion, death, and ruin,

And nature sickens at me. Rest, thou world,

This parricide shall be thy plague no more ;

Thus, thus I set thee free.

Hor. Oh, fatal rashness!

[Stabs herself.

Alt. Thou dost instruct me well. To lengthen life, Is but to trifle now.

[Altamont offers to kill himself; Horatio prevents him, and wrests his sword from him.

Hor. Ha! what means

The frantic Altamont? Some foe to man

Has breath'd on ev'ry breast contagious fury,
And epidemic madness.

Enter SCIOLTO, pale and bloody, supported by servants.

Well may'st thou fail; for see, the spring that fed

Thy vital stream is wasted, and runs low.

My father will you now, at last, forgive me,
If, after all my crimes, and all your suff'rings,
I call you once again by that dear name?
Will you forget my shame, and those wide wounds?
Lift up your hand, and bless me, ere I go

Down to my dark abode?

Sci. Alas, my daughter!

260

Audinct sculp.

DoWilde ad vir pinx!

.

MISS BRUNTON as CALISTA.

And you, ye glittering, heav'nly hosts of Stars,
Hide your fair heads in Clouds,or I shall blast you

London Printed for J.Bell, British Library, Strand, March17.1791.

/you.

Thou hast rashly ventur'd in a stormy sea,

Where life, fame, virtue, all were wreck'd and lost. Bút sure thou hast borne thy part in all the anguish, And smarted with the pain. Then, rest in peace: Let silence and oblivion hide thy name,

And save thee from the malice of posterity;

And may'st thou find with Heav'n the same forgive

ness,

As with thy father here.- -Die, and be happy.
Cal. Celestial sounds! Peace dawns upon my soul,
And ev'ry pain grows less-Oh, gentle Altamont!
Think not too hardly of me when I'm gone;

-Had I but early known

But pity me
Thy wond'rous worth, thou excellent young man,
We had been happier both-Now, 'tis too late;
And yet my eyes take pleasure to behold thee;
Thou art their last dear object-Mercy, Heav'n!
[She dies.
Alt. Cold! dead, and cold! and yet thou art not
chang'd,

But lovely still.

Hadst thou a thousand faults,
What heart so hard, what virtue so severe,
But at that beauty must of force relented,
Melted to pity, love, and to forgiveness?

280

Sci. Oh, turn thee from that fatal object, Alta

mont,

Come near, and let me bless thee, ere I die.
To thee, and brave Horatio, I bequeath
My fortunes-Lay me by thy noble father,
And love my memory, as thou hast his;

For thou hast been my son-Oh, gracious Heav'nl

Thou that hast endless blessings still in store

For virtue, and for filial piety,

Let grief, disgrace, and want be far away;

But multiply thy mercies on his head.

Let honour, greatness, goodness, still be with him,

And peace in all his ways

Alt. Take, take it all :

To thee, Horatio, I resign the gift,

While I pursue my father, and my love,

And find my only portion in the grave.

[He dies.

Hor. The storm of grief bears hard upon his youth,
And bends him, like a drooping flower to earth. 300
By such examples are we taught to prove
The sorrows that attend unlawful love.

Death, or some worse misfortune, soon divide,
The injur'd bridegroom from his guilty bride.
If you would have the nuptial union last,
Let virtue be the bond that ties it fast.

[Exeunt omnes.