Part 12 (2/2)
_Marcia._ His mind still labours with some dreadful thought.
_Enter_ JUBA.
_Jub._ Lucius, the hors.e.m.e.n are return'd from viewing The number, strength, and posture of our foes, Who now encamp within a short hour's march; On the high point of yon bright western tower, We ken them from afar; the setting sun Plays on their s.h.i.+ning arms and burnish'd helmets, And covers all the field with gleams of fire.
_Luc._ Marcia, 'tis time we should awake thy father.
Caesar is still disposed to give us terms, And waits at distance, till he hears from Cato.
_Enter_ PORTIUS.
Portius, thy looks speak somewhat of importance, What tidings dost thou bring? Methinks, I see Unusual gladness sparkle in thy eyes.
_Por._ As I was hasting to the port, where now My father's friends, impatient for a pa.s.sage, Accuse the ling'ring winds, a sail arrived From Pompey's son, who, through the realms of Spain, Calls out for vengeance on his father's death, And rouses the whole nation up to arms.
Were Cato at their head, once more might Rome a.s.sert her rights, and claim her liberty.
But, hark! what means that groan?----Oh, give me way, And let me fly into my father's presence! [_Exit._
_Luc._ Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinks on Rome, And, in the wild disorder of his soul, Mourns o'er his country.--Ha! a second groan-- Heav'n guard us all!
_Marcia._ Alas, 'tis not the voice Of one who sleeps; 'tis agonizing pain-- 'Tis death is in that sound----
_Enter_ PORTIUS.
_Por._ Oh, sight of woe!
Oh, Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pa.s.s-- Cato has fall'n upon his sword----
_Luc._ Oh, Portius, Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale, And let me guess the rest.
_Por._ I've raised him up, And placed him in his chair; where pale and faint, He gasps for breath, and, as his life flows from him, Demands to see his friends. His servants weeping, Obsequious to his order, bear him hither!----
_Marcia._ Oh, Heav'n! a.s.sist me in this dreadful hour, To pay the last sad duties to my father!
CATO _brought on, in a Chair._
_Cato._ Here set me down---- Portius, come near me--Are my friends embark'd?
Can any thing be thought of for their service?
Whilst I yet live, let me not live in vain---- Oh, Lucius, art thou here?--Thou art too good-- Let this our friends.h.i.+p live between our children; Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia---- Marcia, my daughter---- Oh, bend me forward!----Juba loves thee, Marcia-- A senator of Rome, while Rome survived, Would not have match'd his daughter with a king-- But Caesar's arms have thrown down all distinction-- I'm sick to death----Oh, when shall I get loose From this vain world, th' abode of guilt and sorrow!
And yet, methinks, a beam of light breaks in On my departing soul----Alas, I fear I've been too hasty!--Oh, ye powers, that search The heart of man, and weigh his inmost thoughts, If I have done amiss, impute it not---- The best may err, but you are good, and--Oh!-- [_Dies._
_Por._ There fled the greatest soul that ever warm'd A Roman breast:-- From hence, let fierce contending nations know, What dire effects from civil discord flow: 'Tis this that shakes our country with alarms; And gives up Rome a prey to Roman arms; Produces fraud, and cruelty, and strife, And robs the guilty world of Cato's life. [_Exeunt omnes._
THE END.
<script>