Iantha. How wearily the days wear on, and the heavy hours so fraught with doubt press like death upon my aching heart. To the young, the fair, the happy, life is a blissful dream, filled with bright joys; for hope like a star beams on their pathway. But to the grief-worn heart, worn with weary watching, vexed with sad cares, whose hours are filled with fear, and ever thronging sorrows, whose star burns with a dim uncertain light,--oh, weary, weary is the pilgrimage; joyless the present, dark the future; and the sooner all is o'er, the better. Adrastus. Daughter, thou hast forgot. The radiant star may pale and fade, but He who giveth it its light still liveth. Turn unto Him thy worn and bleeding heart, and comfortless thou shalt not be. Iantha. Father, I cannot. When I would pray for resignation, words fail me, and my soul is filled with murmuring, while round me throng visions of battle-fields and death. Ever comes before me the form of Cleon,--no longer bright and beautiful as when, burning with hope and confidence in his high calling, he went forth to conquer or to die; but fallen, bleeding, perhaps dead, or a captive in the dungeon of the pagan, doomed to waste in hopeless misery the long years of his manhood. And my boy,--what will be his fate? Father, can I think on this and pray? Adrastus. 'Tis hard, Iantha; but to His aid alone canst thou look up to save thy husband from the horrors of a bloody war. Call on Him, and He, the merciful, will in thy great need be near thee. [_Enter_ Medon. Medon. A stranger craveth audience. Iantha [_rushing forward_]. A stranger! Cometh he from my lord? Medon. I know not, lady; but as a messenger is he clad, and with great haste demandeth speech of thee, saying he bore tidings of great import. Iantha. Admit him instantly. [_Exit_ Medon.] Father, do thou follow, and speed him hither. Adrastus. I hasten to obey thee. Bear a brave heart, my daughter. I feel that hope is near. [_Exit_ Adrastus. Iantha [_joyfully_]. Hope,--thrice blessed word!--wilt thou indeed visit this doubting heart once more, and sweeten the cup thou hast so long forsaken? [_Enter_ Hafiz.] Welcome! comest thou from my lord? Thy tidings speedily! Hafiz. To the wife of Cleon, late commander of the rebel Greeks, am I sent to bear tidings of their defeat by Mohammed, now master of all Greece. Adrastus. And my lord,--the noble Cleon? Hafiz. Betrayed, defeated, and now lying under sentence of immediate death in the dungeon of the Sultan. Iantha. Lost! lost! lost! [_Falls fainting on a couch._] [_Enter_ Adrastus. Adrastus. Daughter, look up!--there is yet hope. There is no time for rest. Up! rouse thy brave, till now, unconquered heart and cast off this spell. And thou, slave, hence,--away! [_Exit_ Hafiz.