D ANIEL , A RASPES .

Ar. Still let me follow thee; still let me hear
The voice of wisdom, ere the silver cord
By death's cold hand be loosen'd.
Dan. Now I'm ready!
No grief; no woman's weakness, good Araspes!
Thou shouldst rejoice my pilgrimage is o'er,
And the blest haven of repose in view.
Ar. And must I lose thee, Daniel? must thou die?
Dan. And what is death, my friend, that I should fear it!
To die! why, 'tis to triumph; 'tis to join
The great assembly of the good and just;
Immortal worthies, heroes, prophets, saints!
Oh! 'tis to join the band of holy men
Made perfect by their sufferings! 'Tis to meet
My great progenitors! 'Tis to behold
Th' illustrious patriarchs; they, with whom the Lord
Deign'd hold familiar converse! 'Tis to see
Bless'd Noah and his children, once a world!
'Tis to behold, oh! rapture to conceive!
Those we have known, and lov'd, and lost below!
Bold Azariah, and the band of brothers,
Who sought, in bloom of youth, the scorching flames!
Nor shall we see heroic men alone,
Champions who fought the fight of faith on earth;
But heavenly conquerors, angelic hosts,
Michael and his bright legions, who subdued
The foes of truth! To join their blest employ
Of love and praise! to the high melodies
Of choirs celestial to attune my voice,
According to the golden harps of saints!
To join in blest hosannas to their King!
Whose face to see, whose glory to behold,
Alone were heaven, though saint or seraph none
Should meet our sight, and only God were there!
This is to die! Who would not die for this?
Who would not die, that he might live for ever?

D ARIUS , D ANIEL , A RASPES .

Dar. Where is he! where is Daniel? Let me see him!
Let me embrace that venerable form,
Which I have doom'd to glut the greedy maw
Of furious lions!
Dan. King Darius, hail!
Dar. O, injured Daniel, can I see thee thus!
Thus uncomplaining! can I bear to hear
That when the ruffian ministers of death
Stopp'd thy unfinish'd prayer, thy pious lips
Had just invok'd a blessing on Darius,
On him who sought thy life? Thy murd'rers dropt
Tears of strange pity. Look not on me thus
With mild beniguity Oh! I could bear
The voice of keen reproach, or the strong flash
Of fierce resentment; but I cannot stand
That touching silence, nor that patient eye
Of meek respect.
Dan. Thou art my master still.
Dar. I am thy murd'rer! I have sign'd thy death;
Dan. I know thy beat of soul is honourable:
Thou hast been gracious still! Were it not so,
I would have met th' appointment of high Heaven
With humble acquiescence; but to know
Thy will concurr'd not with thy servant's fate,
Add joy to resignation.
Dar. Here I swear
By Him who sits enthron'd in yon bright sun,
Thy blood shall be aton'd! On these thy foes
Thou shalt have ample vengeance.
Dan. Hold, O king!
Vengeance is mine, th' eternal Lord has said;
Myself will recompense, with even hand,
The sinner for the sin. The wrath of man
Works not the righteousness of God.
Dar. I had hoped
We should have trod this busy stage together
A little longer, then have sunk to rest
In honourable age! Who now shall guide
My shatter'd bark in safety? who shall now
Direct me? O, unhappy state of kings!
'Tis well the robe of majesty is gay,
Or who would put it on? A crown! what is it?
It is to bear the miseries of a people!
To hear their murmurs, feel their discontents,
And sink beneath a load of splendid care!
To have your best success ascribed to fortune,
And fortune's failures all ascribed to you!
It is to sit upon a joyless height,
To every blast of changing fate expos'd!
Too high for hope! too great for happiness!
For friendship too much fear'd. To all the joys
Of social freedom, and th' endearing charm
Of liberal interchange of soul, unknown.
Fate meant me an exception to the rest,
And, though a monarch, bless'd me with a friend;
And I — have murdered him!
Dan. My honour approaches.
Hate not my mem'ry, king: protect Araspes:
Encourage Cyrus in the holy work
Of building ruin'd Solymn. Farewell.
Dar. With most religious strictness I'll fulfil
Thy last request. Araspes shall be next
My throne and heart. Farewell!
Hear, future kings!
Ye unborn rulers of the nations, hear!
Learn from my crime, from my misfortunes learn,
Never to trust to weak or wicked hands,
That delegated power which Oromasdes
Invests in monarchs for the public good.