Phoc. Oh! lead me to her; that exalted virtue

With firmer nerve shall bid me grasp the javelin;

Shall bid my sword with more than lightning's swiftness.

Blaze in the front of war, and glut its rage

With blow repeated in the tyrant's veins.

[Exeunt.

[

SCENE II.

A Temple, with a Monument in the Middle.

Enter Euphrasia, Erixene, and other Female Attendants.

Euphrasia

Erixene

Eup. This way, my virgins, this way bend your steps.

Lo! the sad sepulchre where, hears'd in death,

The pale remains of my dear mother lie.

There, while the victims at yon altar bleed,

And with your pray'rs the vaulted roof resounds.

There let me pay the tribute of a tear,

A weeping pilgrim o'er Eudocia's ashes.

Erix. Forbear, Euphrasia, to renew your sorrows.

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