Читать книгу The Prince of Parthia - Godfrey Thomas - Страница 5

Oh! give me way, the haughty victor comes,

Surrounded by adoring multitudes;

On swelling tides of praise to heav'n they raise him;

To deck their idol, they rob the glorious beings

Of their splendour.

My royal Lady,

Chace hence these passions.

Peace, forever peace,

Have I not cause to hate this homicide?

'Twas by his cursed hand Vonones fell,

Yet fell not as became his gallant spirit,

Not by the warlike arm of chief renown'd,

But by a youth, ye Gods, a beardless stripling,

Stab'd by his dastard falchin from behind;

For well I know he fear'd to meet Vonones,

As princely warriors meet with open daring,

But shrunk amidst his guards, and gave him death,

When faint with wounds, and weary with the fight.

With anguish I have heard his hapless fate,

And mourn'd in silence for the gallant Prince.

Soft is thy nature, but, alas! Edessa,

Thy heart's a stranger to a mother's sorrows,

To see the pride of all her wishes blasted;

Thy fancy cannot paint the storm of grief,

Despair and anguish, which my breast has known.

Oh! show'r, ye Gods, your torments on Arsaces,

Curs'd be the morn which dawn'd upon his birth.

Yet, I intreat —

Away! for I will curse —

Oh! may he never know a father's fondness,

Or know it to his sorrow, may his hopes

Of joy be cut like mine, and his short life

Be one continu'd tempest; if he lives,

Let him be curs'd with jealousy and fear,

And vext with anguish of neglecting scorn;

May tort'ring hope present the flowing cup,

Then hasty snatch it from his eager thirst,

And when he dies base treach'ry be the means.

Oh! calm your spirits.

Yes, I'll now be calm,

Calm as the sea when the rude waves are laid,

And nothing but a gentle swell remains;

My curse is heard, and I shall have revenge;

There's something here which tells me 'twill be so,

And peace resumes her empire o'er my breast.

Vardanes is the Minister of Vengeance;

Fir'd by ambition, he aspiring seeks

T'adorn his brows with Parthia's diadem;

I've fann'd the fire, and wrought him up to fury,

Envy shall urge him forward still to dare,

And discord be the prelude to destruction,

Then this detested race shall feel my hate.

And doth thy hatred then extend so far,

That innocent and guilty all alike

Must feel thy dreadful vengeance?

Ah! Edessa,

Thou dost not know e'en half my mighty wrongs,

But in thy bosom I will pour my sorrows.

With secrecy I ever have repaid

Your confidence.

I know thou hast; then hear:

The changeling King who oft has kneel'd before me,

And own'd no other pow'r, now treats me

With ill dissembl'd love mix'd with disdain.

A newer beauty rules his faithless heart,

Which only in variety is blest;

Oft have I heard him, when wrapt up in sleep,

And wanton fancy rais'd the mimic scene,

Call with unusual fondness on Evanthe,

While I have lain neglected by his side,

Except sometimes in a mistaken rapture

He'd clasp me to his bosom.

Oh! Madam,

Let not corroding jealousy usurp

Your Royal breast, unnumber'd ills attend

The wretch who entertains that fatal guest.

Think not that I'll pursue its wand'ring fires,

No more I'll know perplexing doubts and fears,

And erring trace suspicion's endless maze,

For, ah! I doubt no more.

Their shouts approach.

Lead me, Edessa, to some peaceful gloom,

Some silent shade far from the walks of men,

There shall the hop'd revenge my thoughts employ,

And sooth my sorrows with the coming joy.