Eup. And saw Evander?
Phoc. Alas! I found him not.
Eup. Not found him there?—
And have they then—Have the fell murderers—Oh!
[Faints away.
Phoc. I've been too rash; revive, my love, revive;
Thy Phocion calls; the gods will guard Evander,
And save him to reward thy matchless virtue.
Eva. Lead me, Melanthon; guide my aged steps;
Where is he? let me see him.
Phoc. My Euphrasia;
Thy father lives;—thou venerable man!
Behold!—I cannot fly to thy embrace.
Eup. These agonies must end me—ah, my father!
Again I have him, gracious pow'rs! again
I clasp his hand, and bathe it with my tears.
Eva. Euphrasia!—Phocion, too!—Yes, both are here!
Oh, let me thus, thus strain you to my heart.
Phoc. Protected by a daughter's tender care,
By my Euphrasia sav'd! That sweet reflection
Exalts the bliss to rapture.