The Prince of Parthia: A Tragedy

_EVANTHE and CLEONE._

Evanthe. My Cleone-- Welcome thou partner of my joys and sorrows.

Cleone. Oh! yonder terror triumphs uncontroul'd, And glutton death seems never satisfy'd. Each soft sensation lost in thoughtless rage, And breast to breast, oppos'd in furious war, The fiery Chiefs receive the vengeful steel. O'er lifeless heaps of men the soldiers climb Still eager for the combat, while the ground Made slipp'ry by the gushing streams of gore Is treach'rous to their feet.--Oh! horrid sight!-- Too much for me to stand, my life was chill'd, As from the turret I beheld the fight, It forc'd me to retire.

Evanthe. What of Arsaces?

Cleone. I saw him active in the battle, now, Like light'ning, piercing thro' the thickest foe, Then scorning to disgrace his sword in low Plebeian blood--loud for Vardanes call'd-- To meet him singly, and decide the war.

Evanthe. Save him, ye Gods!--oh! all my soul is fear-- Fly, fly Cleone, to the tow'r again, See how fate turns the ballance; and pursue Arsaces with thine eye; mark ev'ry blow, Observe if some bold villain dares to urge His sword presumptuous at my Hero's breast. Haste, my Cleone, haste, to ease my fears.