And from the marble, drops of blood distil.

Erix. Now, ye just gods, if vengeance you prepare,

Now find the guilty head.

Enter Euphrasia, from the Tomb.

Euphrasia

Eup. Virgins, I thank you—Oh! more lightly now

My heart expands; the pious act is done,

And I have paid my tribute to a parent.

Ah! wherefore does the tyrant bend his way?

Phil. He flies the altar; leaves th' unfinish'd rites.

No god there smiles propitious on his cause.

Fate lifts the awful balance; weighs his life,

The lives of numbers, in the trembling scale.

Eup. Despair and horror mark his haggard looks.

Do you retire,

Retire, Philotas; let me here remain,

And give the moments of suspended fate

To pious worship and to filial love.

Phil. Alas! I fear to yield: awhile I'll leave thee,[Pg 35]

[Pg 35]

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