—— Yet if, Eternal Powers who rule this ball! Attilia ACT IV. Scene—A Gallery in the Ambassador's Palace. Scene Reg. (alone.) Be calm, my soul! what strange emotions shake thee? Emotions thou hast never felt till now. Thou hast defied the dangers of the deep, Th' impetuous hurricane, the thunder's roar, And all the terrors of the various war; Yet, now thou tremblest, now thou stand'st dismay'd, With fearful expectation of thy fate.—— Yes—thou hast amplest reason for thy fears; For till this hour, so pregnant with events, Thy fame and glory never were at stake. Soft—let me think—what is this thing call'd glory? 'Tis the soul's tyrant, that should be dethron'd, And learn subjection like her other passions! Ah! no! 'tis false: this is the coward's plea; The lazy language of refining vice. That man was born in vain, whose wish to serve Is circumscrib'd within the wretched bounds Of self—a narrow, miserable sphere! Glory exalts, enlarges, dignifies, Absorbs the selfish in the social claims, And renders man a blessing to mankind.— It is this principle, this spark of deity, Rescues debas'd humanity from guilt, And elevates it by her strong excitements:— It takes off sensibility from pain, From peril fear, plucks out the sting from death, Changes ferocious into gentle manners, And teaches men to imitate the gods. It shows——but see, alas! where Publius comes. Ah! he advances with a down-cast eye, And step irresolute—— —— Soft—let me think—what is this thing call'd glory? —— —— Publius
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