Her. Bold, frontless men! that impudently dare

To blend religion with the worst of crimes!

And sacrilegiously usurp that name,

To cover fraud, and justify oppression !

Eum. Where are your priests? What doctors of your law

Have you e'er sent t' instruct us in its precepts ?
To solve our doubts, and satisfy our reason,

And kindly lead us through the wilds of error

To these new tracts of truth.

This would be friendship,

And well might claim our thanks.

Caled. Friendship like this

With scorn had been received: your numerous vices,
Your clashing sects, your mutual rage and strife,
Have driven Religion, and her angel guards,
Like outcasts, from among you. In her stead,
Usurping Superstition bears the sway,

And reigns in mimic state, 'midst idol shows,
And pageantry of power. Who does not mark
Your lives? Rebellious to your own great Prophet
Who mildly taught you—therefore Mahomet
Has brought the rword to govern you by force,

Nor will accept obedience so precarious.

Eum. O solemn truths, though from an impious tongue! That we're unworthy of our holy faith,

[Aside.

To Heaven, with grief and conscious shame, we own.

But what are you that thus
And consecrate your own?
Are you not sons of rapine,
Base robbers, murderers-
Caled. Christians, no—

Eum. Then say,

arraign our vices,
Vile hypocrite!
foes to peace,

Why have you ravaged all our peaceful borders?

Plundered our towns? and by what claim, e'en now,
You tread this ground?

Her. What claim, but that of hunger?—

The claim of ravenous wolves, that leave their dens
To prowl at midnight round some sleeping village,
Or watch the shepherd's folded flock for prey?

Caled. Blasphemer, know, your fields and towns are ours;
Our Prophet has bestowed them on the faithful,
And Heaven itself has ratified the grant.

Eum. Oh, now indeed you boast a noble title!
What could your Prophet grant? a hireling slave!
Not e'en the mules and camels which he drove
Were his to give; and yet the bold impostor
Has cantoned out the kingdoms of the earth,
In frantic fits of visionary power,

To soothe his pride, and bribe his fellow-madmen!
Caled. Was it for this you sent to ask a parley,
T'affront our faith, and to traduce our Prophet?
Well might we answer you with quick revenge
For such indignities. Yet, hear once more,
Hear this, our last demand; and this accepted,
We yet
withdraw our war.
Be Christians still,
But swear to live with us in firm alliance,

To yield us aid, and pay us annual tribute.

Eum. No, should we grant you aid, we must be rebels; And tribute is the slavish badge of conquest.

Yet since, on just and honourable terms,
We ask but for our own-ten silken vests,

Weighty with pearl and gems, we'll send your caliph;

Two, Caled, shall be thine; two thine, Abdudah.

To each inferior captain we decree

A turban spun from our Damascus flax,

White as the snows of heaven; to every soldier
A scymitar. This, and of solid gold

Ten ingots, be the price to buy your absence.

Caled. This, and much more, even all your shining wealth, Will soon be ours: look round your Syrian frontiers!

See in how many towns our hoisted flags

Are waving in the wind: Sachna, and Hawran,

Proud Tadmor, Aracah, and stubborn Bosra,

Have bowed beneath the yoke; behold our march
O'er half your land, like flame through fields of harvest.
And last, view Aiznadin, that vale of blood!
There seek the souls of forty thousand Greeks
That, fresh from life, yet hover o'er their bodies:
Then think, and then resolve.

Her. Presumptuous men!

What though you yet can boast successful guilt,
Is conquest only yours? Or dare you hope
That you shall still pour on the swelling tide,
Like some proud river that has left its banks,
Nor ever know repulse ?-

Eum. Have you forgot?

Not twice seven years are past since e'en your Prophet,

Bold as he was, and boasting aid divine,

Was by the tribe of Corish forced to fly,

Poorly to fly, to save his wretched life,

From Mecca to Medina ?

Abu. No-forgot!

We well remember how Medina screened

That holy head, preserved for better days,

And ripening years of glory.

Dar. Why, my chiefs,

Will you waste time in offering terms despised

To these idolaters? Words are but air;

Blows would plead better.

Caled. Daran, thou say'st true.

Christians, here end our truce.

Behold, once more

The sword of Heaven is drawn! nor shall be sheathed

But in the bowels of Damascus.

Eum. That,

Or speedy vengeance, and destruction due

To the proud menacers, as Heaven sees fit!

[Exeunt.

Joseph Addison.

CATO.

JULIUS CESAR approaching Utica to subdue it, CATO, the Governor of Utica, assembles the Senators for consultation.

The Senate-House.-Flourish; SEMPRONIUS, Lucius, and Senators, discovered.

Sem. Rome still survives in this assembled senate.

Let us remember we are Cato's friends,

And act like men who claim that glorious title. [Trumpets. Luc. Hark! he comes.

Trumpets. Enter CATO, with PORTIUS and MARCUS, his
Sons.

Cato. Fathers, we once again are met in council;
Cæsar's approach has summoned us together,
And Rome attends her fate from our resolves.
How shall we treat this bold, aspiring man?
Success still follows him, and backs his crimes;

Pharsalia

gave him Rome, Egypt has since

Received his yoke, and the whole Nile is Cæsar's.
Why should I mention Juba's overthrow,

And Scipio's death? Numidia's burning sands

Still smoke with blood.

What course to take.

"Tis time we should decree

Our foe advances on us,

And envies us even Libya's sultry deserts.

Fathers, pronounce your thoughts: are they still fixed To hold it out, and fight it to the last?

Or are your hearts subdued at length, and wrought, By time and ill success, to a submission?

Sempronius, speak.

Sem. My voice is still for war.

Gods! can a Roman senate long debate

Which of the two to choose, slavery or death?
No; let us rise at once, gird on our swords,
And, at the head of our remaining troops,
Attack the foe, break through the thick array

Of his thronged legions, and charge home upon him.
Perhaps, some arm, more lucky than the rest,

May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage. Rise, fathers, rise! 'tis Rome demands

your help; Rise, and revenge her slaughtered citizens,

Or share their fate.To battle!

Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged amongst us.
Cato. Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal
Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of reason;
True fortitude is seen in great exploits,

That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides;
All else is towering frenzy and distraction.

Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion,