The Inflexible Captive Part 2

_At._ My father! can it be?

_Barce._ Thy father----Regulus.

_At._ Thou art deceiv'd, or thou deceiv'st thy friend.

_Barce._ Indeed I saw him not, but every tongue Speaks the glad tidings.

_Enter_ PUBLIUS.

_At._ See where Publius comes.

_Pub._ My sister, I'm transported! Oh, Attilia, He's here, our father----Regulus is come!

_At._ I thank you, G.o.ds: O my full heart! where is he?

Hasten, my brother, lead, O lead me to him.

_Pub._ It is too soon: restrain thy fond impatience.

With Africa's amba.s.sador he waits, Until th' a.s.sembled senate give him audience.

_At._ Where was he Publius when thou saw'st him first?

_Pub._ You know, in quality of Roman quaestor, My duty 'tis to find a fit abode For all amba.s.sadors of foreign states.

Hearing the Carthaginian was arriv'd, I hasten'd to the port, when, O just G.o.ds!

No foreigner, no foe, no African Salutes my eye, but Regulus----my father!

_At._ Oh mighty joy! too exquisite delight!

What said the hero? tell me, tell me all, And ease my anxious breast.

_Pub._ Ere I arriv'd, My father stood already on the sh.o.r.e, Fixing his eyes with anxious eagerness, As straining to descry the Capitol.

I saw, and flew with transport to embrace him, p.r.o.nounc'd with wildest joy the name of father-- With reverence seiz'd his venerable hand, And would have kiss'd it; when the awful hero, With that stern grandeur which made Carthage tremble, Drew back--stood all collected in himself, And said austerely, Know, thou rash young man, That _slaves_ in _Rome_ have not the rights of _fathers_.

Then ask'd, if yet the senate was a.s.sembled, And where? which having heard, without indulging The fond effusions of his soul, or mine, He suddenly retir'd. I flew with speed To find the Consul, but as yet success Attends not my pursuit. Direct me to him.

_Barce._ Publius, you'll find him in Bellona's temple.

_At._ Then Regulus returns to Rome a slave!

_Pub._ Yes, but be comforted; I know he brings Proposals for a peace; his will's his fate.

_At._ Rome may, perhaps, refuse to treat of peace.

_Pub._ Didst thou behold the universal joy At his return, thou wouldst not doubt success.

There's not a tongue in Rome but, wild with transport, Proclaims aloud that Regulus is come; The streets are filled with thronging mult.i.tudes, Pressing with eager gaze to catch a look.

The happy man who can descry him first, Points him to his next neighbour, he to his; Then what a thunder of applause goes round; What music to the ear of filial love!

Attilia! not a Roman eye was seen, But shed pure tears of exquisite delight.

Judge of my feelings by thy own, my sister.

By the large measure of thy fond affection, Judge mine.

_At._ Where is Licinius? find him out; My joy is incomplete till he partakes it.

When doubts and fears have rent my anxious heart, In all my woes he kindly bore a part: Felt all my sorrows with a soul sincere, Sigh'd as I sigh'd, and number'd tear for tear: Now favouring heav'n my ardent vows has blest, He shall divide the transports of my breast.

[_Exit_ ATTILIA.

_Pub._ Barce, adieu!

_Barce._ Publius, a moment hear me.

Know'st thou the name of Africa's amba.s.sador?

_Pub._ Hamilcar.

_Barce._ Son of Hanno?

_Pub._ Yes! the same.

_Barce._ Ah me! Hamilcar!--How shall I support it! [_Aside._

_Pub._ Ah, charming maid! the blood forsakes thy cheek: Is he the rival of thy Publius? speak, And tell me all the rigour of my fate.

_Barce._ Hear me, my Lord. Since I have been thy slave, Thy goodness, and the friendship of Attilia, Have soften'd all the horrors of my fate.

Till now I have not felt the weight of bondage.

Till now--ah, Publius!--think me not ungrateful, I would not wrong thee--I will be sincere-- I will expose the weakness of my soul.

Know then, my Lord--how shall I tell thee all?

_Pub._ Stop, cruel maid, nor wound thy Publius more; I dread the fatal frankness of thy words: Spare me the pain of knowing I am scorn'd; And if thy heart's devoted to another, Yet do not tell it me; in tender pity Do not, my fair, dissolve the fond illusion, The dear delightful visions I have form'd Of future joy, and fond exhaustless love.

[_Exit_ PUBLIUS.

_Barce._ (_alone._) And shall I see him then, see my Hamilcar, Pride of my soul, and lord of all my wishes?

The only man in all our burning Afric Who ever taught my bosom how to love!

Down, foolish heart! be calm, my busy thoughts!

If at his name I feel these strange emotions, How shall I see, how meet my conqueror?

O let not those presume to judge of joy Who ne'er have felt the pangs which absence gives.

Such tender transport those alone can prove, Who long, like me, have known disastrous love; The tears that fell, the sighs that once were paid, Like grateful incense on his altar laid; The lambent flame rekindle, not destroy, And woes remember'd heighten present joy. [_Exit._

ACT II.

SCENE--_The inside of the Temple of Bellona--Seats for the Senators and Amba.s.sadors--Lictors guarding the entrance._

MANLIUS, PUBLIUS, _and Senators_.

_Man._ Let Regulus be sent for to our presence; And with him the amba.s.sador of Carthage.

Is it then true the foe would treat of peace?

_Pub._ They wish, at least, our captives were exchang'd, And send my father to declare their wish: If he obtain it, well: if not, then Regulus Returns to meet the vengeance of the foe, And pay for your refusal with his blood: He ratified this treaty with his oath, And ere he quitted Carthage, heard, unmov'd, The dreadful preparations for his death, Should he return. O, Romans! O, my countrymen!

Can you resign your hero to your foe?

Say, can you give up Regulus to Carthage?