_Eup._ Fly, Phocion, fly; Melanthon will conduct thee. _Mel._ And, when th'assault begins, my faithful cohorts Shall form their ranks around this sacred dome. _Phoc._ And my poor captive friends, my brave companions Taken in battle, wilt thou guard their lives? _Mel._ Trust to my care: no danger shall assail them. _Phoc._ By Heav'n, the glorious expectation swells This panting bosom! Yes, Euphrasia, yes; A while I leave you to the care of Heaven. Fell Dionysius tremble; ere the dawn Timoleon thunders at your gates! the rage, The pent-up rage, of twenty thousand Greeks, Shall burst at once; and the tumultuous roar, Alarm th'astonish'd world. _Eva._ Yet, ere thou go'st, young man, Attend my words: Tho' guilt may oft provoke, As now it does, just vengeance on its head, In mercy punish it. The rage of slaughter Can add no trophy to the victor's triumph; Bid him not shed unnecessary blood. Conquest is proud, inexorable, fierce; It is humanity ennobles all. So thinks Evander, and so tell Timoleon. _Phoc._ Farewell;--the midnight hour shall give you freedom. [_Exit, with MELANTHON and PHILOTAS._ _Eup._ Ye guardian deities, watch all his ways. _Eva._ Come, my Euphrasia, in this interval Together we will seek the sacred altar, And thank the God, whose presence fills the dome, For all the wond'rous goodness lavish'd on us. [_Exeunt._ ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. _Enter DIONYSIUS and CALIPPUS._ _Dio._ Ere the day clos'd, while yet the busy eye Might view their camp, their stations, and their guards, Their preparations for approaching night;-- Didst thou then mark the motions of the Greek? _Cal._ From the watch-tower I saw them: all things spoke A foe secure, and discipline relax'd. _Dio._ Their folly gives them to my sword. Are all My orders issued? _Cal._ All. _Dio._ The troops retir'd To gain recruited vigour from repose? _Cal._ The city round lies hush'd in sleep. _Dio._ Anon Let each brave officer, of chosen valour, Forsake his couch, and with delib'rate spirit, Meet at the citadel. An hour, at furthest, Before the dawn; 'tis fix'd to storm their camp; Haste, Calippus, Fly to thy post, and bid Euphrasia enter. [_Exit CALIPPUS._ Evander dies this night:--Euphrasia too Shall be dispos'd of. Curse on Phocion's fraud, That from my pow'r withdrew their infant boy. In him the seed of future kings were crush'd, And the whole hated line at once extinguish'd. _Enter EUPHRASIA._ Once more approach and hear me; 'tis not now A time to waste in the vain war of words. A crisis big with horror is at hand. I meant to spare the stream of blood, that soon Shall deluge yonder plains. My fair proposals Thy haughty spirit has with scorn rejected. And now, by Heav'n, here, in thy very sight, Evander breathes his last. _Eup._ If yet there's wanting A crime to fill the measure of thy guilt, Add that black murder to the dreadful list;-- With that complete the horrors of thy reign.