SCENE II.

Enter ASPERMONTE.

Julius. Well, Aspermonte, how do our affairs go on? Asp. All preparations are made; we must be at sea before sun-rise.

Julius. And what is your plan?

Asp. I have procured twenty armed men, whom I intend to divide into two bands;-with one we shall break into the cloister and secure Blanca-whilst the other, charged with our baggage, waits for us at the garden gate.-A vessel is ready to set sail at a moment's warning, and the wind is fair.

Julius. I hope you have also taken care that Blanca should find every accommodation she may want?

Asp. As much care as if she was my mistress.

Julius. I thank you, dear Aspermonte; but, do you know, I have never felt more strongly how dear my native country is to me, than I do now.

Asp. Prince, it is yet time.-Do not leave Tarentum, if you reluctantly quit it.

Julius. I quit it as a philosopher quits life, willingly, but thrilled with an involuntary tremor and that he cannot help. Asp. Have you made your intended excursion?

Julius. I have, and these painful sensations are the fruits of it. I have deeply imprinted upon my mind the picture of the surrounding country; to rove our native fields, in imagination, when at a great distance, cannot but afford the purest pleasure;-and this, I hope, shall enable me delightfully to beguile many a sentimental eve. And I assure you, there is no brook, nor hillock, which is not interesting to me, on account of some incident of my infancy or youth. Trifling as these incidents may be deemed by others, the recollection thereof is more interesting to the person whom they concern, than an universal history of the world.

Asp. Surely, then you cannot have forgot the citron grove, where you saw Blanca for the first time?

Julius. How could I, dear Aspermonte? how could I? I have spent there a few valuable farewell minutes; and, if I could take with me any part of my native soil, I would not leave that grove behind.- -I concluded my excursion with paying a farewell visit to the tomb of my ancestors;a true picture of the rank of a prince, thought I, when I

beheld

beheld the silver coffins and the rotten standards!-The great are, in every thing, like other mortals, if we except the tinsel which they affix to every thing belonging to themselves. That hand full of dust, in this coffin, formerly the great Theodorich, loved the skull that yonder grins at me, and once was called the fair Agnese!-They now can sleep in peace, without requiring the assistance of a groom of the bed-chamber to command silence in the anti-chamber. This suffocating vapour differs not from what issues from the grave of a beggar, and no flatterer will say, that it smells like roses. Does not Theodorich's dog rot as well as the great Theodorich himself, though no rusty sword nor mouldy sceptre lays on his grave?-I also, thought I, shall find a place to rot in, though it be not a family vault!

Asp. Your observations are just; but, on this occasion, there might also have been made others that are equally just. -Though the rank of a prince has its tinsel-yet it is the only station that suits your generous mind.-Julius, you are designed to found the happiness of many thousands;—and, could you devote your whole life to the amusement and pleasure of an individual woman?

Julius. Aspermonte, you seem determined to provoke me. -But, go on; I have ceased being a prince.

Asp. I will convince you, that even a prince may have friends. Consider once more, before you sacrifice your father and your native country to a woman!

Julius. I am like a man of fortitude upon the rack ;—your remonstrances may torture me, but will not be capable of persuading me to drop my design. You are right, I sacrifice my father and country to her; but is not Blanca deserving of it?-When I, on her account, one time shall miss these dear objects, they will appear to me to melt into one with her. I will love, in her, both father and country.-I am jealous of my own love;-nothing shall divide it henceforth;-all my inclinations shall centre in her.

Asp. One observation more, my prince! you might be excused, if you merely did not make your people happy; but your flight will prove their ruin; as Guido will become their ruler, if you execute your resolution.

Julius. I shall set out to night!-Have you changed your resolution?

Asp. I have not; if you persist in yours, I am ready to follow you.

Julius. Where shall we meet to night?

Asp. You will meet me, at eleven o'clock, at the church VOL. II.

U

of

of St. Eleonora.-Garments for disguising yourself shall be sent to you before.

Julius. I now have one more severe conflict to sustainto bid an eternal farewell to my father.-Consider, how arduous is the task to bid him an eternal farewell, without his perceiving it. You may conclude how irrevocable my resolution is, since I do not shun this awful meeting on its account, though it will agonize the inmost fibres of my

heart.

Asp. Collect yourself; he is coming; I dare not venture to look at him. [Exit.

Julius. Gracious heaven, assist me now, and in the hour of death!

SCENE III.

Enter PRINCE.

JULIUS absorpt in melancholy thoughts during the whole Scene.

Prince. Julius, will your countenance never re-assume its wonted serenity?-Have you not one cheerful look for your father on his birth day?-Forgive me, if I have been too severe in my late rebuke.

Julius. (Gently laying hold of his father's hand.) My

dearest father!

Prince. Ah! my heart melts, when I see you. The time of forming designs for futurity is past with me; elapsed are those youthful days, when one wish contained the germs of a thousand more, as from one kernel a whole forest springs. This world has little more to give me. My only wish is, to see you great and happy. (Pause.)-Julius, do not deprive me of the sweet hope, that the blessings which I, inyou leave to my subjects, will be left encreased to your successor, and, that the future princes of Tarentum, at the sound of your name, will be impelled with an ardent desire of imitating your virtues.-Are you not enraptured at the idea that others will act nobly in imitating your deeds; and your children, animated by your fame, will become great; as one fire kindles another without consuming itself? (Pause.— Julius is absorpt in mute meditation; the Prince embraces him.) Cast off this mournful look! First-born of my love, who rendered my wife dearer to me, and first called me father. My first born, for whom I reserve my best blessing

Julius.

Julius. Oh, my father, give me that blessing now! Prince. (Laying his hand on Julius's head.) Be wise! (Julius fervently kisses his father's hand, and withdraws.) Prince. Oh, my son, why do you flee from the presence of your father?

SCENE IV.

PRINCE.

ARCHBISHOP.

Prince. God!-But I will endeavour to subdue this emotion. I have transacted and suffered much to day, and think I have deserved a cheerful evening, if I could but have it.

Enter ARCHBISHOP.

Prince. Brother, I am in a humour that suits a birth-day. My feelings are both melancholy and solemn. Let us drink a bottle together.

Archb. I have no objection to it.

Prince. In such a humour, wine proves itself a gift of heaven; it joins the two best extremities of joy and grief. (A servant brings a bottle and glasses.) Thomas, place this table opposite the picture of Anchises and Aeneas! (They sit down.) Here, brother, have I spent some of the happiest hours of my whole life. Do you recollect, that our father knighted me before this picture?

Archb. As if it had happened to day. I then requested our father to give me likewise a sword; but he gave me the book upon which you had sworn, telling me, that it was the sword of an ecclesiastic.

Prince. (Contemplating the picture.) At that time I resembled Ascanius; now I resemble Anchises. I shall soon awake, and say: surely I dreamed I was prince of Tarentum! (He fills the glasses.) God grant I may not be terrified out of my dream!

Arch. May our family and our subjects prosper.-(They drink.) You are too anxious. Look back upon the good which you have done. The flowers we have planted are most fragrant in the evening. Why should you care about the night?

Prince. Alas, my sons!

Arch. Brother, give me leave to tell you, that you have cared too much ever since you resembled Ascanius. Look around you, and say, if your life be not enviable?

Prince. At present it is.

Arch. Have you not rendered your subjects happier without

2

a revolution, by means of a virtuous life; as useful as it was simple. Few of your deeds would bear painting-but, ah, if your whole life could be painted (They drink.) I know best how im

Prince. Do not make me proud. perfectly my plans were executed.

Arch. I know full well how much superior our resolves are to our actions; but, indeed, you have reason to be satisfied. Do you imagine, that our little feast here is the only one that, to day, is celebrated in the country? Every peasant has saved a hen in order to do honor to it. I recollect to have been told, that at such a domestic feast in honor of your birth-day, whilst the parents conversed about you with honest enthusiasm, a child asked what a prince was? When his mother replied, a prince, my child, is to many thousands, what your father is to myself and you.

Prince. I thank heaven for having given me a country so small that the administration of it is a source of domestic pleasure to myself. Do you think, brother, that my own children will one time afford me as much satifaction as those thousands that call me father out of gratitude?

Arch. Undoubtedly.

Prince. I hope I shall spend an happy evening in the circle of my family. I will forget that I am-In short, I will be merry. Ah! if heaven would grant me the happiness once more to celebrate my birth day amongst my children—and I could see Cecilia in the arms of my Julius! That girl is my darling.-Brother, my small stock of philo sophy is the hard earned fruit of seventy-six years, and this girl, though scarcely eighteen years old, is already graced with accomplishments rarely united in one person, and still more rarely enhanced by that sweet modesty which she unconsciously displays on every occasion. How is it possible that a young man of sense, who has seen her but once, should not be disgusted with those courtly automata whose chief accomplishments consist in factitious charms and slander? Arch. Brother, you rhetoricate. Are you Ascanius or

Anchises?

Prince. Ah, if Julius were but sensible of these charms! -There is a little more wine in the bottle. Let us drink a toast that fits old men :-an honourable exit! (They drink.)

SCENE