Eup. My tears have dry'd their source; then let me here,

Pay this sad visit to the honour'd clay,[Pg 34]

[Pg 34]

That moulders in the tomb. These sacred viands

I'll burn an offering to a parent's shade,

And sprinkle with this wine the hallow'd mould.

That duty paid, I will return, my virgins.

[She goes into the Tomb.

[

Erix. Look down, propitious pow'rs! behold that virtue,

And heal the pangs that desolate her soul.

Enter Philotas.

Philotas

Phil. Mourn, mourn, ye virgins; rend your scatter'd garments:

Some dread calamity hangs o'er our heads.

In vain the tyrant would appease with sacrifice

Th' impending wrath of ill-requited Heav'n.

Ill omens hover o'er us: at the altar

The victim dropp'd, ere the divining seer

Had gor'd his knife. The brazen statues tremble,

 Prev. P 54/101 next