And life, now wearied out, almost expires.

Mel. If any spark of virtue dwell within thee,

Lead me, Philotas, lead me to his prison.

Phil. The tyrant's jealous care hath mov'd him thence.

Mel. Ha! mov'd him, say'st thou?

Phil. At the midnight hour,[Pg 10]

[Pg 10]

Silent convey'd him up the steep ascent,

To where the elder Dionysius form'd,

On the sharp summit of the pointed rock,

Which overhangs the deep, a dungeon drear:

Cell within cell, a labyrinth of horror,

Deep cavern'd in the cliff, where many a wretch,

Unseen by mortal eye, has groan'd in anguish,

And died obscure, unpitied, and unknown.

Mel. Clandestine murderer! Yes, there's the scene

Of horrid massacre. Full oft I've walk'd,

When all things lay in sleep and darkness hush'd.

Yes, oft I've walk'd the lonely sullen beach,

And heard the mournful sound of many a corse

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