Drenching his bright lance in his spotted breast.

Phraates.

Phraates.

How diff'rent he from arrogant Vardanes?

That haughty Prince eyes with a stern contempt

All other Mortals, and with lofty mien

He treads the earth as tho' he were a God.

Nay, I believe that his ambitious soul,

Had it but pow'r to its licentious wishes,

Would dare dispute with Jove the rule of heav'n;

Like a Titanian son with giant insolence,

Match with the Gods, and wage immortal war,

'Til their red wrath should hurl him headlong down,

E'en to destruction's lowest pit of horror.

Gotarzes.

Gotarzes.

Methinks he wears not that becoming joy

Which on this bright occasion gilds the court;

His brow's contracted with a gloomy frown,

Pensive he stalks along, and seems a prey

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