IRENE; A TRAGEDY. ACT I. SCENE I. DEMETRIUS and LEONTIUS, in Turkish Habits. LEONTIUS. AND is it thus Demetrius meets his friend, Hid in the mean disguise of Turkish robes, With servile secrecy to lurk in shades, And vent our suff'rings in clandestine groans? DEMETRIUS. ; Till breathless fury rested from destruction, LEONTIUS. Yet Greece enjoys no gleam of transient hope, The lust of gold, unfeeling and remorseless, Urg'd by the imperious soldier's fierce command, verns Pregnant with stores that India's mines might envy, Th' accumulated wealth of toiling ages. DEMETRIUS. That wealth, too sacred for their country's use! Had rang'd embattled nations at our gates! LEONTIUS. Reproach not misery.-The sons of Greece, Why should they fear?-That pow'r that kindly spreads The clouds, a signal of impending show'rs, DEMETRIUS. A thousand horrid prodigies foretold it. Shews his bold front, the harbinger of ruin, LEONTIUS. Well might the weakness of our empire sink Before such foes of more than human force; Some Pow'r invisible, from Heav'n or Hell, Conducts their armies, and asserts their cause. DEMETRIUS. And yet, my friend, what miracles were wrought 'Twas vice that shook our nerves, 'twas vice, Leontius, That froze our veins, and wither'd all our pow'rs. LEONTIUS. Whate'er our crimes, our woes demand com passion. Each night, protected by the friendly darkness, Quitting my close retreat, I range the city, And, weeping, kiss the venerable ruins: With silent pangs I view the tow'ring domes, Sacred to pray'r, and wander through the streets, Where commerce lavish'd unexhausted plenty, And jollity maintain'd eternal revels. DEMETRIUS. How chang'd, alas !-Now ghastly Desolation In triumph sits upon our shatter'd spires; LEONTIUS. From ev'ry palace bursts a mingled clamour, Arose to Heav'n, and pierc'd my bleeding breast, DEMETRIUS. Aspasia! spare that lov'd, that mournful name: Dear, hapless maid-tempestuous grief o'erbears My reasoning pow'rs-Dear, hapless, lost Aspasia! LEONTIUS. Suspend the thought. DEMETRIUS. All thought on her is madness; Yet let me think-I see the helpless maid, Behold the monsters gaze with savage rapture, Behold how lust and rapine struggle round her! LEONTIUS. Awake, Demetrius, from this dismal dream, wisdom; Think on the mighty power of awful virtue; Think on that Providence that guards the good. DEMETRIUS. O Providence! extend thy care to me, |