_Phil._ At the midnight hour, Silent convey'd him up the steep ascent, To where the elder Dionysius form'd, On the sharp summit of the pointed rock, Which overhangs the deep, a dungeon drear: Cell within cell, a labyrinth of horror, Deep cavern'd in the cliff, where many a wretch, Unseen by mortal eye, has groan'd in anguish, And died obscure, unpitied, and unknown. _Mel._ Clandestine murderer! Yes, there's the scene Of horrid massacre. Full oft I've walk'd, When all things lay in sleep and darkness hush'd. Yes, oft I've walk'd the lonely sullen beach, And heard the mournful sound of many a corse Plung'd from the rock into the wave beneath, That murmurs on the shore. And means he thus To end a monarch's life? Oh! grant my pray'r; My timely succour may protect his days; The guard is yours---- _Phil._ Forbear; thou plead'st in vain; And though I feel soft pity throbbing here; Though each emotion prompts the gen'rous deed, I must not yield; it were assur'd destruction! Farewell, despatch a message to the Greeks; I'll to my station; now thou know'st the worst. [_Exit._ _Mel._ Oh, lost Evander! Lost Euphrasia too! How will her gentle nature bear the shock Of a dear father, thus in ling'ring pangs A prey to famine, like the veriest wretch Whom the hard hand of misery hath grip'd! In vain she'll rave, with impotence of sorrow; Perhaps, provoke her fate: Greece arms in vain, All's lost; Evander dies! _Enter CALIPPUS._ _Cal._ Where is the King? Our troops, that sallied to attack the foe, Retire disordered; to the eastern gate The Greeks pursue: Timoleon rides in blood! Arm, arm, and meet their fury! _Mel._ To the citadel Direct thy footsteps; Dionysius there Marshals a chosen band. _Cal._ Do thou call forth Thy hardy veterans; haste, or all is lost! [_Exit._ [_Warlike Music._ _Mel._ Now, ye just gods, now look propitious down; Now give the Grecian sabre tenfold edge, And save a virtuous king! [_Warlike Music._ _Enter EUPHRASIA._ _Eup._ War on, ye heroes, Ye great assertors of a monarch's cause! Let the wild tempest rage. Melanthon, ha! Did'st thou not hear the vast tremendous roar? Down tumbling from its base the eastern tow'r, Burst on the tyrant's ranks, and on the plain Lies an extended ruin. _Mel._ Still new horrors Increase each hour, and gather round our heads. _Eup._ The glorious tumult lifts my tow'ring soul. Once more, Melanthon, once again, my father Shall mount Sicilia's throne. _Mel._ Alas! that hour Would come with joy to ev'ry honest heart, Would shed divinest blessings from its wing; But no such hour in all the round of time, I fear, the fates averse will e'er lead on. _Eup._ And still, Melanthon, still does pale despair Depress thy spirit? Lo! Timoleon comes Arm'd with the pow'r of Greece; the brave, the just, God-like Timoleon! ardent to redress, He guides the war, and gains upon his prey. A little interval shall set the victor Within our gates triumphant.