The Poetical Works of James Thomson. With his last corrections, additions and improvements. With the life of the author ... Embellished with superb engravings

Front matter

THE WORKS OF MR. JAMES THOMSON, WITH HIS LAST CORRECTIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS. IN THREE VOLUMES COMPLETE. TO WHICH IS PREFIXED, THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR, BT PATRICK MURDOCH, D.D. F.R.S. Vol. III. LONDON: PUNTED FOR R. BALDWIN; J. NICHOLS AND SON J F. AND C. RIVINOTON; W. J. AND J. RICHARDSON; J.WALKER; R. LEA ; W. LOWNDES; C. AND J. ROBINSON; T. PAYNE; C.WILKIE; OOILVY AND SON; J. SCATCHERD; VERNOR AND HOOD; J. NVNN; CLAW; LONGMAN AND REES; CA DELL, TUN. AND DA VI ES; B. CROSBY; T. hvrst; CARPENTER AND CO; AND BLACKS AND PARRY. ■180.?. CONTENTS OF THE THIRD VOLUME. PACE. AGAMEMNON. A tragedy 1 ALFRED. A masque 91 TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA. A tragedy. . . 133 CORIOLANUS. A tragedy AGAMEMNON. A TRAGEDY. VOL. III. D TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS OF WALES. MADAM, I nuMBLY beg leave to put this Tragedy under the protection of your Royal Highness ; and hope you will con descend to accept of it, as a testimony of the most unfeigned and zealous respect, due no less to your amiable virtues, than to your high rank, from, MADAM, YOUR ROYAL HIGIINESs's Most dutiful, and Most obedient humble Servant, JAMES THOMSON. B

Prologue

. BY THE AUTHOR OF EURYDICE. SPOKEN BY MR. QUIN. When this decisive night, at length, appear*!, The night of every author's hopes and fears; What shifts to bribe applause, poor poets try f In all the forms of wit they court and lye : These meanly beg it, as an alms; and Those, By boastful bluster dazzle and impose. Nor poorly fearful, nor securely vain, Ours would, by honest ways that grace obtain, Would, as a free-born wit, be fairly try'd: And then — let truth and candour, fair, decide. He courts no friend, who blindly comes to praise; He dreads no foe — but whom his faults may raise. Indulge a generous pride, that bids him own, He aims to please, by noble means, alone ; By what may win the judgment, wake the heart, Inspiring nature and directing art; By scenes, so wrought, so rais'd, as may command Applause, more from the head, than from the hand Important is the moral we would teach : (Oh may this Island practise what we preach !)

Vice in its first approach with care to shun; The wretch who once engages, is undone. Crimes lead to greater crimes, and link so streight, What first was accident, at last is fate; Guilt's hapless servant sinks into a slave; And virtue's last sad strugglings cannot save. " As such our fair attempt, we hope to see " Our judges here at least from influence free; " One place — unbias'd yet by party rage, — " Where only honour votes, — the British stage. " We ask for justice, for indulgence sue: " Our last best licence must proceed from you." b PERSONS REPRESENTED. AGAMEMNON, . . • MR. QUIN'. EGISTHUS, . • • MR. MILWARD. MELISANDER, ... MR. CIBBER. ARCAS, . • . MR. WRIGHT. ORESTES, . . . MR. GREEN. TALTHYB1US, Herald, . MR. HAVARD. Officers, &c. CLYTEMNESTRA, « MRS. PORTER. CASSANDRA, . . . MRS CIBBER.

ELECTRA, . . . MISS BRETT. attendant of Clytemnestra, mrs. furnival. Trojan captives, &c. scene, the palace of agamemnon, in Mycen<z. AGAMEMNON, A TRAGEDY. ACT I. SCENE I. CLYTEMNSETRA sitting in a disconsolate posture, and her ATTENDANT. ATTENDANT. \J Clytemnestra ! O my royal mistress ! Can then no comfort soothe your woes a while ? E'er since that flaming signal of sack'd Troy, That signal fix'd and promis'd by the king, Was seen some nights ago, nor food has pass'd Your loathing lips, nor sleep has bless'd your eyes. Or if perhaps a transient slumber hush'd Your sighs a moment, and restrain'd your tears ; Sudden, you, starting wildly, would exclaim Of guilt, Egisthus, Troy, and Agamemnon. Sure 'tis too much, my queen. CLYTEMNESTRA. Away ! away ! Since my lost state admits of no relief, 1*4 AGAMEMNON. 8 To that sad comfort of the wretched leave me, To yield me to my sorrows.

ATTENDANT. Hear me, Madam, Once the dear burden of these aged arms ! My tender care from life's first opening bud ! My joy! my glory! hear your faithful servant, And, let me add, your friend. — In reason's eye, That never judges on a partial view, Far less than your misfortune is your guilt. Your guilt.. — Forgive me, 'tis too harsh a word, For what deserves compassion more than blame. I know the treacherous ways by which you sunk, From pleasing peace, to these unhappy fears, This anxious tumult. CLYTEMNESTRA. Hide me from the view ! All comfort is in vain. — Away ! ATTENDANT. Allow me To plead your injur'd cause against yourself. When Agamemnon led the Greeks to Troy, And left you, Madam, for the pomp of war ; Left you the pride of Greece in full-blown beauty, The kindest mother and the fondest wife j If Fame says true, for Trojan captives left you — Put that apart. — How did he leave you, say ?

Afflicted, out-rag'd, as a queen and mother ; Betray'd to Aulis with your first-born hope, The blooming Iphigenia, under feint Of her immediate marriage to Achilles ; And there no sooner at the wind-bound fleet AGAMEMNON. 9 Arriv'd, but you beheld her spotless blood Stream on the sully'd altar of Diana, The price of winds, of a dear-purchas'd gale, To bear them on to Troy. Thus pierc'd with grief, Then fir'd by turns to rage, almost to vengeance, At an ambitious cruel haughty husband ; While all your passions were together mixd. And ready for a change ; was you not left In a submissive soothing lover's power, Ordain'd your partner in the sovereign rule, O'er Argos and Mycenæ, but to you As pliant still as Agamemnon stately? CLYTEMNESTRA, rising. Alas ! too true ! You touch the source of woe.

Why did you leave me, barbarous Agamemnon ? Why leave me weeping o'er a murder'd daughter ? Why helpless leave me to a troubled mind ? Ah ! why yourself betray me to a lover ? What arts Egisthus us'd too well I know ; All that can softly steal, or gayly charm, The heart of woman Hence, dear sad ideas ! Destroyers hence ! And dare you tempt me still, Perfidious Sirens ! in that very moment When your false charms have wreck'd my peace for ever ? Oh, Nature ! wherefore, Nature, are we form'd One contradiction ? the continual sport Of fighting powers ? Oh ! wherefore hast thou sown Such war within us, such unequal conflict, Between slow reason and impetuous passion ? Passion resistless hurries us away, Ere lingering reason to our aid can come, And to upbraid us then it only serves. Tormentor, cease !

AGAMEMNON. 10 ATTENDANT. You wrong yourself too much. Think, Madam, how for years you baffled love : Nor could Egisthus, tho' he touch'd your heart, Tho' many a midnight tear, and secret sigh, To me, and me alone, disclos'd the pangs That dimm'd your fading cheek ; yet could he not, With all his arts, his love, submission, charms, O'ercome the struggling purpose of your soul ; Till Melisander, to a desart isle, He banish' d from your ear. CLYTEMNESTRA. Ah, Melisander! Given to the beasts a prey, or wilder famine ; Ah, perish'd friend ! serene directing light, By Agamemnon left to guide my counsels ; Whom every science, every muse adorn'd, While the good honest heart enrich'd them all ; Gh hadst thou still remain'd, then I, this day, Had been as glorious as I now am wretched ! There breathes a felt divinity in virtue, In candid unassuming generous virtue, Whose very silence speaks ; and which inspires, Without proud formal lessons, a disdain Of mean injurious vice.

But lost with him, With Melisander, reason, honour, pride, Truth, sound advice, my better genius fled ; I friendless, flatter'd, importun'd and charm'd, Was left alone with all-seducing love ; Love to the future blind, each sober thought, Each consequence despising, scorning all, But what its own enchanting dreams suggest. What could I do ? — Away ! self-flattering guilt ! AGAMEMNON. 1 1 I should have thought, when honour once is sully'd, Not weeping mercy's tears can wash it clean j And that one blot on mine diffus'd a stain O'er the proud honour of a wedded king, And o'er my children's, my poor blameless children's ! Whose cheeks will kindle at their mother's name : I should have thought — Would I could think no more ! To think is torture ! ATTENDANT. What avails it, Madam — CLYTEMNESTRA.

O Melisander ! if the dead could hear, I would invoke thy friendly influence now, Would wish thee present in this hour of trouble. Perhaps there is in wisdom, gentle wisdom, That knows our frailties, therefore can forgive, Some healing comfort for a guilty mind, Some power to charm it into peace again, And bid it smile anew with right affections. No ! fruitless wish ! — It cannot, cannot be ! Egisthus who may henceforth give me laws, Dread of discovery, that worst tyrant, shame, And my own conscious blotted heart forbid it, Forbid retreat ATTEN' DA NT. Madam, behold the man, Who, then upon the watch, observ'd the signal Of conquer'd Troy, and now attends your orders To give a full account of what he saw. AGAMEMNON. 12 SCENE II. CLYTEMNESTRA, her ATTENDANTS, and the MAN ivho observed the signal* CLYTEMNESTRA.

Are you then sure that you beheld this signal ? Or was it not some vision of the brain, That painted, while you slept, your waking wish? Or else perhaps some meteor of the night ? MAN. Madam, Troy doubtless lies one heap of ruins ; I saw the signal of its fate distinctly. The night was dark and still. A heavier gloom Ne'er cover'd earth. In low'ring clouds, the stars Were muffled deep; and not one ray, below, O'er all Mycenæ glimmer'd, or around it. When strait at farthest east, a ruddy light Sprung up, and, wide increasing roll'd along ; By turns diminish'd, and by turns renew'd, A wave of fire: at last, it flam'd, confess'd, From isle to isle, and beachy point to point ; Till the last blaze at Nauplia ended, plain. A glorious sight, and as a Greek rejoic'd me. CLYTEMNESTRA. How sits the wind ?

MAN. It blows from Troy, direct; A bold and steady gale. CLYTEMNESTRA. Tis well. Retire. Your care and faithful pains shall be rewarded. AGAMEMNON. 13 SCENE III. clytemnestra, her attendant. CLYTEMNESTRA. He comes ! he comes ! the hapless victor comes ! Even now his trophy'd vessel streaks the main, And ploughs the billows with triumphant prow ; Or by glad crowds receiv'd, perhaps, he hails His native shore, and presses on to shame. Even now with glory charg'd, with conquest gay, Crown'd with the laurels of ten famous years, He dreams to join them to the peaceful olive; And after rugged toils and perilous war, Soft to repose him on the myrtle bed Of calm domestic bliss. How vain the hopes ! How short the prospect of believing man ! I dare not look before me, dare not paint The rising storm.

ATTENDANT. Behold Egisthus, Madam. CLYTEMNESTRA. Leave me. SCENE IV. CLYTEMNESTRA, egisthus. EGISTHUS, aster some silence. And is it thus, O Clytemnestra, Thus that, in hours of danger, lovers meet? [Pausing, AGAMEMNON. 14 Still coldly silent, still the look averted, Where not one softness glows ? While anger, fear, Disgust, and sick repentance, shifting, cloud Your varied cheek. 'Tis plain you never lov'd. CLYTEMNESTRA. Oh that I never had ! EGISTHUS. You never did. The very power to wish it proves you did not* CLYTEMNESTRA. He ne'er deserv'd my love, who dares suspect it. EGISTHUS. Not to suspect it, weakness were and folly. CLYTEMN ESTRA. Nor only doubt; believe your doubts EGISTHUS. I do. CLYTEMNESTRA. You do! EGISTHUS. Nay more, am of their truth assured.' CLYTEMNESTRA. Tis base, ungrateful, an ungenerous insult, To tell me this.

Urge not too far, Egisthus, Urge not too far my guilt-dejected spirit. Tho' you have trampled on my haughty virtue, That noble pride of soul, which knows no fear, And bears no insult; yet to you, at least, To you of all mankind, I will be bold, As I had never err'd, will be a queen, The blood of Jove, be Clytemnestra still. AGAMEMNON. 5 EGISTHUS. Be temperate, Madam : I have told you nothing, But that I am not worthy of your love. CLYTEMNESTRA. Curse on that pride ! which, with affected brow, Humility conceals. And am I then so vile, So lost to reason, honour, common-honour ; As without love, that all-compelling fury, Without debasing, thoughtless, blind blind love; To bow me from the height of happy life, To this low fearful state of coward shame ? Mistake me not — I would not waste one word, One passing word, affronted thus to save you From jealousy's worst rage ; did not, alas!

A kind of mournful justice to myself Tear from my swelling heart the mean confession How art thou fallen ! to what dishonour fallen ! Unhappy Clytemnestra ! EGISTHUS. Harsh construction! And yet these frowns delight, that anger charms me. O more than lovely ! O majestic fair one! Since you then know the jealous force of love, Forgive its tender fears, its fond offence ; Offence I could not mean. CLYTEMNESTRA Ill-fated she! Who must forgive. EGISTHUS. Nay, rather cast me from you, Than thus upbraid me with so forc'd a pardon. AGAMEMNON. 6 O Clytemnestra where are now those looks, Those looks of smiling heaven, of radiant sweetness, That wak'd our morn of love ? Within whose sphere, No evil durst approach, no sadness dwell ; While the charm'd gazer knew nor fear nor danger ? And set they then at last in gloomy quarrels ?

Let us not quarrel, why should lovers quarrel ? Life is for that too short, too precious time ; These moments chiefly, these impetuous moments, That to the brink of ruin seem to roll Our mingled fate. Even now — CLYTEMNESTRA. Tis true ! Tis true ! Alas ! methinks in every hollow blast, That shakes this palace, Agamemnon comes. Yes, yes, Egisthus, still a proof remains, A matchless proof of love, I mean to give you. Glad will I throw this regal pomp aside, And, instant, with you seek some distant country, Some gloomy Thracian dale, where piny Hemus May wrap us in impenetrable shade ! There, there, the coarsest life, fed by hard toil, Will be luxurious ease to what I feel, To this big pang that labours at my heart, And fires my mingling passions into anguish. Quick! let us fly, Egisthus, fly this moment!

The next may seize us, bind us down to shame, Detested shame! EGISTHUS. What! Clytemnestra! fly! That is indeed the road direct to shame, To infamy for ever. He who flies, In war or peace, who his great purpose yields, AGAMEMNON. 7 He is the only villain of this world : But he who labours firm and gains his point, Be what it will, which crowns him with success, He is the son of fortune and of fame, By those admir'd, those specious villains most, That else had bellow'd out reproach against him. Besides your husband, your vain-glorious husband, Proud Agamemnon, who ten years has warr'd At Troy, to scourge your sister Helen's rape, Dream you that he would not pursue our flight, Tho' we took shelter in Cimmerian shades, And drag us back, the scorn of hissing Greece, To then deserv'd, to true, unpity'd shame?

CLYTEMNESTRA. Excuse my weaker heart. But how, Egisthus, How shall I bear an injur'd husband's eye ? The fiercest foe wears not a look so dreadful, As does the man we wrong. egisthus Madam, your fears Cast a false glare upon your troubled reason, That blinds it quite. — An injur'd husband he! He wrong'd! No, Clytemnestra never, never, Can never wrong her tyrant Agamemnon, Tyrant of common Greece; can never wrong The man who leaves her ten regardless years, For the vain honours of a foolish war; Nay, who consum'd those years, if Fame speaks true. In nothing less than war; instead of war, In shameful squabbles with his nobler friends, About their captive females, training out An amorous revel rather than a war, Far from his country, family, and queen. VOL. III. c AGAMEMNON. And can you wrong this false one ?

Think of Aulis, How basely to that port you was betray'd, And what dire nuptials waited there your daughter. Think with what price he bought his cruel trophies. Behold the first born blossom of your youth, Your Iphigenia, her mild eyes dejected, Her cheek o ercast with fear, her bosom bare, An helpless, harmless, uncomplaining victim, Stabb'd by the murderous Calchas; whilst her father, Her unrelenting father, to protect The sacrifice, stands by. Behold, she bleeds, Pours the rich stream she drew from that fair bosom, Falls like a drooping flower untimely cut ; And all to purchase for her sire's impatience, From some fell demon that bely'd Diana, A rising gale. The gale begins to blow, The pendants flutter; when away he goes, Gaily he goes; and leaves a wretched mother To weep her murder'd child.

If yet one spark Of wonted spirit burns in Clytemnestra, If she still lives to justice and to nature; These, these are wrongs that call aloud for vengeance ; And there are hands that boldly — start not, Madam — That will with pride avenge you. CLYTEMNESTRA. Ha ! what hands ? What vengeance, say ? Touch not so wild a string ; It wakes new discord in my jarring soul. To the just gods, not us, pertaineth vengeance. I cannot, will not, e'er consent to — Gods ! Where roves my tongue ?— You did not mention that, You did not mean it sure — O spare, Egisthus, In pity spare my last remains of virtue ! AGAMEMNON. 9 Oh make me not beyond recovery vile ! A horror to myself ! — how wretched they, Who feel, yet cannot save, their dying virtue ! [A shout heard. What means this transport of the madning people ?

Oh my presaging heart ! — Save me ! — Again ! Ah! little think they how their joy distracts me! EGISTHUS. Some move this way — Resume your temper, Madam. SCENE V. To clytemnestra an officer belonging to the court. OFFICER. Madam the king is near, from Nauplia comes ; But such rejoicing crowds around him throng, As makes his journey slow. Just now arriv'd Talthybius brings the news, and craves admittance- CLY'TEMNESTRA. Conduct him hither. SCENE. VI CLYTEMNESTRA, alone. Oh too faithful signal ! Now must I take another step in vice. Down, stubborn heart ! and learn dissimulation : Yes, learn to smile, tho' sorrow wrap thee round ; Learn to be friends with baseness. — See ! how gay This Herald strides along ! Mistaken man ! c AGAMEMNON. 10 SCENE VII. clytemnestRA, Talthybius, with some Grecian soldiers that attend him.

CLYTEMNESTRA. Welcome Talthybius; welcome ye brave Greeks, How fares the king ? TALTHYBIUS. Madam, the king is well ; Health, happiness, and glory, join to crown him His heart impatient to confer with yours, Sends me before him with its warmest wishes, Its warmest gratulations. " Tell," he said, " Go tell my Clytemnestra, that the thoughts « Of meeting her awake a dearer joy " Than conquest ever gave : even tedious seems, " My people's love, that loses me a moment." This crown, which circled once the royal brows Of Hecuba, of Priam's lofty queen, He prays you to accept. CLYTEMNESTRA There set it down. I own, Talthybius, the soft moisture fills My womanish eyes, while on the sudden turns Of fate I think, on fortune's sad reverses. Oft when blind mortals think themselves secure, In height of blis?, they touch the brink of ruin.

But sure your voyage has been wondrous quick, Not three full days. — Is all the fleet return'd ? AGAMEMNON. 21 TALTHYBIUS. No, Madam ; none, except this single ship, Which bore the king : the rest are scatter'd wide. When to the joyous breeze we spread our sails, And left that bay, where Simois and Scamander Mix with the rapid Hellespont ; while Troy, Or what was Troy, yet wreathing smoke to heaven, And Ida's woody top, receding, sunk Beneath the trembling main, the sky was fair ; And, wing'd our course with slender airs, we sail'd, Till strait, as evening fell, the fluttering gale, Encreasing gradual from the red north-east, Blew stiff and fierce. At last the tempest howl'd. Next mo.ning, nought but angry seas and skies Appear'd, conflicting, round. Mean time, right on, Our strong-ribb'd vessel drove before the blast, That, falling somewhat of it's fury, gave us A quick auspicious voyage.

Safe, we pass'd The Cyclad isles, that, o'er the troubled deep, Seem'd then to float amidst the mingling storm. Only at one, with much ado, we touch'd, Nor without risque CLY'TEMNESTRA. And why ? TALTHYBIUS. Madam, compell'd By sacred pity. On the foaming beach, A miserable figure beck'ning stood, Horrid and wild, with famine worn away. His plaintive voice, half by the murmuring surge Absorpt, just reach'd our ears. In Greek he call'd, And strong adjur'd us by the gentle gods, r\ hat make the wretched their peculiar care, c AGAMEMNON. 22 To bear him thence, from savage solitude, Into the cheerful haunts of men again. CLYTEMNESTRA. What ? — Of condition look'd he ? TALTHYBIUS. So he seem'd ; Tho' dimm'd by helpless solitary life. The king regards him much — Forgive me, Madam ; I see the rueful image but disturbs Your generous soul.

CLYTEMNESTRA. I thank you, good Talthybius ; And from the king himself will learn the rest. This ring, on which a victory is carv'd With curious art, befits the news you bring. I am your debtor still ; and, soldiers, yours. AGAMEMNON. 23 ACT II. GCENE I. CLYTEMNESTRA, ATTENDANT. CLYTEMNESTRA. Arriv'd so soon! I am not half prepar'd : My features all are sunk with conscious shame ; My eyes are yet too tender to dissemble. ATTENDANT. Madam, be firm. Wipe off these gloomy tears, In which too plain is read your troubled soul. Just now the trumpet spoke the king's approach. CLYTEMNESTRA. Tis come, at last, the trying hour is come ! Oh that my heart were hard, and features false ! Again these trumpets swell ATTENDANT. A moment, Madam, A moment will betray you. CLY'TEMNESTRA Open, Earth, And swallow up my shame ! — What can I do ?

Where look ? what say ? confusion ! torture ! ATTENDANT. Madam — CLYTEMNESTRA. Ah, coward that I am ! Was there no dagger To save this tenfold death ? c AGAMEMNON. 24 ATTENDANT. Hark ! loud and near, The triumph comes CLYTEMNESTRA Well— give me breath- [Endeavouring to compose her agitation. AGAMEMNON, behind the Scenes. A moment Leave me, my friends. CLYTEMNESTRA. Ha ! heard you not his voice ? Yes, yes, 'tis he ! Go bring my children hither • They may relieve me. ATTENDANT. O remember! CLYTEMNESTRA. Heavens ! SCENE II. AGAMEMNON, CLYTEMNESTRA. AGAMEMNON. Where is my life ! my love ! my Clytemnestra ! O let me press thee to my fluttering soul, That is on wing to mix itself with thine ! O thou, for whom I live, for whom I conquer, Than glory brighter ! O my Clytemnestra ! Now, in this dear embrace, I lose the toils Of ten years war ! absence, with all its pains, Is by this charming moment wip'd away.

AGAMEMNON. 25 All-bounteous gods ! Sure, never was a heart So full, so blest as mine. — [Discovering her disorder. But whence, my fairest ! What mean these tears ? — Not tears of happy love, Such as I shed. — What means that clouded look, Whose downcast sweetness will not shine upon me ? Why this cold meeting ? Why unkindly damp'd My ardor thus ? Oh speak, my Clytemnestra ! CLYTEMNESTRA. Forgive me, Agamemnon ; but I cannot, Alas ! I cannot see your face again, Without reflecting where I saw you last. Aulis is present to my eyes anew, The ships, the chiefs, the guards, the bloody Calchas, All the dire pomp of sacrifice around : Anew my daughter bleeds, basely deceiv'd ! And when I see that awful brow, that doom'd her, Can Agamemnon wonder at my tears ? AGAMEMNON. Why will my Clytemnestra add new stings To what here rankles but too deep already ?

Ah ! why impute to me the work of Fate ? 'Tis not indulging private inclination, The selfish passions, that sustains the world, And lends its rulers grace ; no, 'tis not thence That glory springs, and high immortal deeds : The public good, the good of others, still Must bear fond nature down, in him who dares Aspire to worthy rule ; imperious honour Still o'er the most distinguish'd lords it most. Was it for me ? — Let even your passions judge— For Agamemnon was it, when ordain'd, By common voice, the general of the Greeks ; AGAMEMNON. 26 While twenty kings beneath my banner march'd ; And while around me full-assembled Greece, Indignant, kindled at your sister's rape, On her old native foe demanding vengeance, On faithless Asia : Was it then for me, To quench this glorious flame ? And to refuse One life to thousands, to those generous thousands, That for my honour, for the dearer honour Of Clytemnestra's family, stood all Prepar'd to die ?

If to the mingled voice, Of honour, duty, glory, public good, Of the commanding gods, I had been deaf; And, in the feeble father, poorly sunk The Greek, the chief, the patriot, and the king, Greater than king, the general of the Greeks ; Then you yourself, my Clytemnestra's self, Must (let her heart avow the truth) have scorn'd me. Nor think it was an easy resignation. Oh Clytemnestra ! Had you seen within, What here within my tortur'd bosom pass'd ; To that my battles since were only sport. No, not the kindest mother, bath'd in tears, As o'er her agonizing babe she hangs, Feels what I suffer'd then — You may remember — Again the father melts me at the thought — You may remember how I hid my face ; Asham'd to let the Greeks around behold The tears, that misbecame their general's cheek. Then cease to blame what rather merits pity, I might add praise. — He, who the father's heart More tender has than mine, too tender has it.

I love my children, as a father should ; Besides, I love them from a softer cause, I love my Clytemnestra. AGAMEMNON. 27 CLYTEMNESTRA. Had, alas ! Had Agamemnon lov'd me, would he, nay, Could he have left me in the rage of grief, My daughter yet fresh bleeding in my sight ? Left me so long ? love surely must have found, In the wide round of ten revolving years, Some way to see me, to prevent these sorrows — Why was I thus abandon'd, Agamemnon ? a c. A M e m n o v . Let me kiss off these tears. O beauteous tears ! If shed by doubting love, if shed for absence. Instead of these reproaches, ask me rather, How I that absence bore : and here all words, All eloquence is dumb, to speak the pangs, That lurk'd beneath the rugged brow of war. When glaring day was clos'd, and hush'd the camp, Oh ! then, amid ten thousand other cares, Those stung the keenest that remember'd thee, That on my long-left Clytemnestra thought, On what wild seas and mountains lay between us. clytemnestra.

Unhappy man ! AGAMEMNON. What says my Clytemnestra ? CLYTEMNESTRA. Unhappy mortals ! by vain words deceiv'd, To their own pride, to joyless honour slaves. AGAMEMNON. He, he, alone, can claim a right to bliss, Who has fulfill'd the painful task of honour. AGAMEMNON. 28 CLYTEMNESTRA. But what avails a right to vanish'd bliss ? AGAMEMNON. Let me once more adjure thee, Clytemnestra, By every tender name of love adjure thee, To lose in kind oblivion these our past — I would not call them quarrels — Ah ! there was, There was a time — I will indulge the thought — When everlasting transport tun'd our souls : When join'd to vernal life, the spring of love Around us gaily blow'd ! and heaven and earth, All smiling nature look'd delighted on. Yet, would my Clytemnestra lend her aid, I know a passion still more deeply charming Than fever'd youth e'er felt ; and that is love, By long experience mellow'd into friendship.

How far beyond that froward child of fancy ! With beauty pleas'd a while, anon disgusted, Seeking some other toy ; how far more noble Is this bright offspring of unchanging reason, That fonder grows with age, and charms for ever ! It is not often, Clytemnestra, thus, That I submit to double my entreaties ; But, oh destroy not the collected hopes Of life and love ! Oh make not conquest hateful ! I shall abhor it, if it cost me thee, Cost me thy love. A daughter was too much, And ten years absence from my Clytemnestra. Add not to these a loss I cannot bear, The loss of thee, thou loveliest of thy sex ! And once the kindest ! CLYTEMNESTRA. Oh! AGAMEMNON. 29 AGAMEMNON. Turn not away ; There is relenting goodness in thy look. CLYTEMNESTRA. Alas ! untimely fondness — Agamemnon ! Too generous Agamemnon ! you distress me.