Phil. Alas! this frantic grief can nought avail.
Retire and seek the couch of balmy sleep,
In this dead hour, this season of repose.
Eup. And dost thou then, inhuman as thou art!
Advise a wretch like me to know repose?
This is my last abode:—these caves, these rocks,
Shall ring for ever with Euphrasia's wrongs.
Here will I dwell, and rave, and shriek, and give
These scatter'd locks to all the passing winds;
Call on Evander lost;—
And cruel gods, and cruel stars invoking,
Stand on the cliff in madness and despair.
Phil. By Heav'n,
My heart in pity bleeds.
No other fear assails this warlike breast.
I pity your misfortunes; yes, by Heav'n,
My heart bleeds for you.—Gods! you've touch'd my soul!
The gen'rous impulse is not giv'n in vain.
I feel thee, Nature, and I dare obey.
Oh! thou hast conquer'd.—Go, Euphrasia, go,
Behold thy father.
Eup. Raise me, raise me up;
I'll bathe thy hand with tears, thou gen'rous man!
Phil. Yet, mark my words; if aught of nourishment
Thou wouldst convey, my partners of the watch
Will ne'er consent.
Eup. I will observe your orders:
On any terms, oh! let me, let me see him.
Phil. Yon lamp will guide thee thro' the cavern'd way.
Eup. My heart runs o'er in thanks; the pious act
Timoleon shall reward; the bounteous gods,
And thy own virtue shall reward the deed.
[Goes into the Cave.
Phil. Prevailing, powerful virtue!—Thou subdu'st
The stubborn heart, and mould'st it to thy purpose.
'Would I could save them!—But tho' not for me
The glorious pow'r to shelter innocence,
Yet for a moment to assuage its woes,
Is the best sympathy, the purest joy
Nature intended for the heart of man,
When thus she gave the social gen'rous tear.
[Exit.