Scene VII.
Arsaces, Bethas, Evanthe and Cleone.
Evanthe.
Heav'ns! what a gloom hangs round this dreadful place,
Fit habitation for the guilty mind!
Oh! if such terrors wait the innocent,
Which tread these vaults, what must the impious feel,
Who've all their crimes to stare them in the face?
Bethas.
Immortal Gods! is this reality?
Or mere illusion? am I blest at last,
Or is it to torment me that you've rais'd
This semblance of Evanthe to my eyes?
It is! it is! 'tis she!—
Arsaces.
Ha!—what means this?—
She faints! she faints! life has forsook its seat,
Pale Death usurps its place—Evanthe, Oh!
Awake to life!—Love and Arsaces call!—
Bethas.
Off—give her to my arms, my warm embrace
Shall melt Death's icy chains.