Nor thro' thy dull medium, had Cherubim known, That he once fung in ftrains, as fublime as their own: ayes Then ftun us no longer with ekes and To publicans on earth! queror a treasure more precious than his crown, a princefs at the age when the heart has only the virtues of nature,, or nature has all the charms of innocence and beauty. Every thing that the graces in tears poffefs, either noble or affecting, was painted in Lydia's countenance. In her grief, courage, and dignity, one might discover the daughter of kings amidst the crowd of flaves. She received the first compliments of her enemies without haughtiness, without acknowledgement, as an homage due to her rank, the noble sentiments of which were not weakened in her foul by ill fortune. She heard her father named, and at that name lifted up to heaven her fine eyes filled with tears. All hearts were Whose health is ill exchang'd for bread, moved. Mezentius himself, astonished, Whofe livelihood is death. Thus Paul addreffed the fons of fin; "For wages death receive." Hard wages thofe ! on which poor men, As South fays, cannot live. From the GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE. forgot his pride and his age. Prosperity which hardens weak fouls, foftens proud hearts, and nothing is more gentle than an hero after gaining a victory. If the savage heart of old Mezentius was not able to refift the charms of his captive, what was the impression on the virtuous foul of young Laufus ! He mourned over his exploits; he reproached himself with his victory: it coft Lydia tears, Let her avenge herself, faid he, let her hate me as much as I love her; I have deferved it but too HE character of Mezentius, much.' But an idea ftill more distress Laufus and Lydia; a Tale. From the montal. T king of Tyrrhene, is well known, full, prefents itfelf to his imagination A bad prince and a good father, cruel and tender by turns. He had nothing of the tyrant, nothing that showed violence, as long as his defires knew no obstacle; but the calm of this haughty foul was the repofe of a lion. Mezentius had a fon named Laufus whofe valour and beauty rendered him famous among the young heroes of Italy. Laufus had attended Mezentius in the war against the king of Prænefte. His father, at the very fummit of joy, faw him covered with blood, fighting and vanquishing by his fide. The king of Prænefte driven out of his territories, and feeking his fafety in flight, had left in the hands of the con he fees Mezentius, aftonifhed, softened, pass on a fudden from rage to clemency. He judged rightly that humanity alone had not effected this revolution; and the fear of having his father for a rival compleated his confufion. lows clofely upon love. The tyrant At the age of Mezentius jealousy fölobferved the eyes of Laufus with an uneafy attention: he faw extinguished in them, all at once, that joy and ardour which fhone at firft on the face of the young hero, victorius for the first time. He faw him disturbed: he caught fome looks which it was but too easy to understand. From that inftant he con fidered himself as betrayed; but nature had Alluding to a fermon of his on," The wages of fin are death;" hard wages, that apoor man cannot live by them. had her turn, and fufpended his rage. A tyrant even in his fury forces himself to think that he is just; and before he condemned his fon, Mezentius wanted to convict him. He began by diffembling his own paffion with so much art, that the prince looked on his former fears as vain, and confidered the attentions of love as nothing more than the effects of clemency. At first he affected to allow Lydia all the appearances of liberty: but the tyrant's court was full of fpies and informers, the usual retinue of men of power, who, not being able to make themfelves beloved, place their greatness in rendering themselves feared. His fon was no longer afraid of paying Lydia a respectful homage. He mingled with his fentiments an intereft fo delicate and fo tender, that Lydia very foon began to reproach herself for the hatred which the thought the entertained for the blood of her enemy. Laufus, on his fide, lamented that he had contributed to Lydia's misfortunes, He took the gods to witnefs that he would do all in his power to repair them. "The king my father, "fays he", is as generous after victory, as untractable before battle: fatisfied with victory, he is incapable of oppreffion. It is eafier than ever for the king of Prænefte to engage him to a peace that shall be glorious to both. That peace will dry up your tears beautiful Lydia; but will it efface the remembrance of their crime who caused you to fhed them! why did I not fee all my blood flow rather than thofe tears ?" Lydia's replies, which were full of modefty and greatness, left no room for Laufus to perceive any thing more than eafy gratitude: though at the bottom of her heart fhe was but too fenfible of the care' he took to confole her. She fometimes blushed for having listened to him with complaisance; but her father's interests made it a law to her to avail herself of fuch a fupport. intimate; and love made its way insenfibly through refpect and gratitude, as a flower, which, in order to blow, opens the flight texture in which it is enfolded. In the mean time their conferences growing more frequent, became alfo more animated, more interefting, mote "Gene Deceived more and more by the feigned tranquillity of Mezentius, the credulous Laufus flattered himself, that he fhould very foon fee his duty accord with his inclination; and nothing in the world, in his opinion, was eafier than to reconcile them. The treaty of peace which he had meditated, was reduced to two articles; to restore to the king of Prænefte his crown, and his territories; and to make his marriage with the princess the band of union between the two powers. He communicated this project to Lydia. The confidence he put in it, the advantages he faw accruing from it, the transports of joy which the idea alone infpired him with, furprised the lovely captive into a fmile, mingled with tears: rous prince," fays the to him, " may heaven fulfil the withes you pour out for my father! I fhall not be sorry that I am made the pledge of peace, and the price of gratitude." reply was accompanied with a look still more touching. The tyrant was informed of all. His firft tranfport would have hurried him to facrifice his rival; but this fon was the only fupport of his crown, the only barrier between the people and him the fame ftroke would have rendered him completely odious to his fubjects, and have taken from him the only defender, whom he could oppofe to the publick hatred. Fear is the ruling paffion of tyrants. Mezentius He orders his refolves to diffemble. fon to come to him, talks to him with good humour, and bids him prepare to fet out the next day for the frontiers of his territories, where he had left his army. The prince endeavoured to conceal the grief which wrung his foul, and fet out without having had time to receive the adieus of Lydia. : This touching was his marriage with the daughter of the vanquished monarch. That unfortunate monarch hefitated not to confent, and the fame ambaffador that of fered him peace brought back his agreement for an answer. Laufus had at court a friend, who had been attached to him from his infancy. A remarkable resemblance to the young prince had been the means of making the fortune of this young man who was called Phanor; but they refembled each other still more in their difpofition than their figure, the fame inclination, the fame virtues: Laufus and Phanor feemed to have but one foul. Laufus at parting had confided to Phanor his paffion and his defpair. The latter was therefore inconfolable on hearing of the marriage of Lydia with Mezentius. He thought it his duty to acquaint the prince with it. The fituation of the lover at this news cannot be described; his heart is troubled, his reafon forfakes him; and in the diftraction of a blind forrow he writes to Lydia the warmest and most imprudent letter that love ever dictated. Phanor was charged with the delivery of it. He went to her at the hazard of his life if he should be difcovered. He was fo. Mezentius, enraged, orders him to be loaden with irons, and dragged to a frightful prison. However, every thing was prepared for the celebration of this unhappy marriage. We may justly conclude that the feaft was fuitable to the character of Mezentius. Wrestling, the ceftus, gladiators, combats between men and animals bred up to carnage, every thing that barbarity has invented for its amusements, was to have graced the pomp ; nothing was wanting to this bloody fpectacle, but perfons to fight against the wild beafts; for it was customary to expose to these fights none but criminals condemned to die, and Mezentius, who on any fufpicion was always in a hurry to put the innocent to death, retarded still lefs the punishment of the guilty. There remained in the prifon none but the faith ful friend of Laufas. "Let him be exposed, “ faid Mezentius;" let him fall a prey to devouring lions; the traitor deferves a more cruel death; but this best fuits his crime and my vengeance, and his punishment is a feat worthy of injured love." : He Laufus in vain expected the answer of his friend; impatience gave way to affright. "Should we be discovered!" fays he ; "fhould I have loft my friend by my fatal imprudence! Lydia herself Ah! I tremble. No, I cannot live any longer in this dreadful uncertainty." He fets out; he difguifes himfelf carefully; he arrives; he hears the report fpread among the people; he learns that his friend is in chains, and that the next day is to unite Lydia with Mezentius: he learns that they are preparing the feaft which is to precede the marriage feftival, and that, by way of show at this feftival, they are to fee the unhappy Phanor a prey to wild beafts. fhrinks at this recital; a deadly chillnefs spreads through all his veins he comes again to himself; but loft in diftraction, he falls on his knees, and cries out, "Great gods, restrain my "hand, my defpair terrifies me! let me die to fave my friend; but let me die with my virtue!" Refolved to deliver his dear Phanor, tho' he should' perish in his ftead, he flies to the gates of the prifon: but how is he to enter there? he addreffes himself to the flave, whose office it was to carry food to the prifoners. "Open your eyes" said he, "and know me: I am Laufus, I am the son of the king. I expect from you an important fervice: Phanor is confined here; I will fee him, I will. I have but one way to come at him : give me your cloaths: fly! there are the pledges of my acknowledgment: withdraw yourself from the vengeance of my father. If you betray me, you rush on your ruin; if you affift me in my undertaking, my favours shall find you in the very hearts of the deserts. The weak and timorous flave yields to his promifes and threats. He affists the the prince in difguifing himself, and disappears, after having told him the hour at which he was to prefent himfelf, and the conduct he was to obferve in order to deceive the vigilance of the guards. Night approaches, the mo-ment arrives, Laufus prefents himself: he affumes the name of the flave; the bolts of the dungeon open with a difmal found. By the feeble glimmering of a torch, he penetrates into this manfion of horror, he advances, he liftens; the accents of a moaning voice ftrike his ear, he knows it to be the voice of his friend, he fees him lying down in a corner of the cell, covered with rags, confumed with weakness, the paleness of death on his countenance, and the fire of despair in his eyes. "Leave me." faid Phanor to him, taking him for the flave; "away with those odious nourish ments; fuffer me to die. Alas!" added he, fending forth cries interrupted by fighs, "alas! my dear Laufus is ftill more unhappy than I. O, ye gods! if he knows the ftate to which he has reduced his friend!" "Yes," cried Laufus, throwing himself on his bofom, "Yes my dear Phanor, he does know it, and he partakes of it," "What do I fee!" cried Phanor transported: "Ah Laufus! ah, my prince!" At thefe words both of them lofe the use of their fenfes; their arms are locked in each other, their hearts meet, their fighs are intermingled. They remain for a long time mute and immoveable, ftretched out on the floor of the dungeon; grief ftifles their voice, and they answer each other only by embracing more clofely, and bathing one another with tears. Laufus at last coming to himself, "Let us not lofe time," faid he to his friend; "take these cloathis, get hence, and leave me here."—" What I, great gods! can I be fo vile? Ah Laufus, could you believe it? Ought you to propofe it to me? I know you well," said the prince; "but you should alfo know me. The fentence is pronounced, your punishment is prepared, you must die or fly." "Fly!"-" Hear me; my father is violent, but he is sensible; nature afferts her right over his heart, if I deliver you from death, I have only occafion to melt him to compassion for myself; and his arm, when lifted up against a son, will be eafily difarmed." "He would trike," said Phanor, and your death would be my crime; I cannot abandon you." "Well then," faid Lausus, “ remain here; but at your death you shall fee mine alfo. Depend not on my tather's clemency; it would be in vain for him to pardon me; think not that I would pardon myself. This hand, which wrote the fatal billet that condemns, this hand, which, even after its crime, is ftill the hand of your friend, fhall re-unite us in your own defpite." In vain would Phanor have infifted upon it. "Let us not talk any longer," interrupted Laufus ; you can fay nothing to me that can equal the shame of furviving my friend, after I have deftroyed him. Your preffing earneftnets makes me blush, and your prayers are an affront. I will answer for my own fafety, if you will fly: I swear to die, if you will ftay and perish. Choose: the moments now are precious." 66 Phanor knew his friend too well to pretend to shake his refolution, "I confent," fays he, "to let you try the only means of fafety that is left us; but live, if you would have me live: your fcaffold thall be mine." "I readily believe it," faid Laufus, " and your friend esteems you too much to delire you to furvive him." At thefe words they embraced, and Phanor went out of the dungeon in the habit of the flave, which Laulus had just put off. What a night! what a dreadful night for Lydia! Alas! how thall we paint the emotions that arife in her foul, that divide, that tear it, between love and virtue? She adores Laufus, the detefts Mezentius, the facrifices herself to her father's interefts, the delivers herself up to the object of her hatred, the tears herfelf for ever from the wishes of an adored lover. They lead her to the altar as it were to punishment. Barbarous Mezentius! it fuffices thee that thy confort trembles before thee, as a flave before his mafter. Such is love in the heart of a tyrant. Yet alas! it is for him alone that she is going to live: it is to him that he is going to he united. If the refifts, the must betray her lover and her father: a refufal will difcover the fecret of her foul; and if Laufus is fufpected to be dear to her, he is undone. It was in this cruel agitation that Lydia waited the day. The terrible day arrives. Lydia, difmayed and trembling, fees herself decked out, not as a bride whom they are going to prefent at the altars of Love and Hymen, but as one of those innocent victims which a barbarous piety crowned with flowers before it facrificed them. They lead her to the place where the fpectacle is to be exhibited, the people affemble there in multitudes, the sports begin. I fhall not stop to defcribe the engagements at the ceftus, at wrestling, at the fword; a more dreadful object engages our attention. An enormous lion advances. At first, with a calm pride, he traverses the arena, throwing his dreadful looks round the amphitheatre that environs him: a confused murmer announces the terrour that he infpires. In a fhort time the found of the clarions animate him; he replies by his roarings; his fhaggy main is erected around his monftrous head; he lashes his loins with his tail, and the fire begins to iffue from his sparkling eyeballs. The populace affrighted, wish and dread to see the wretch appear, who is to be delivered up to the rage of this monster. Terrour and pity feize on every breast. The combatant, whom Mezentius's guards themselves had taken for Phanor, prefents himself. Lydia could not diftinguish him. The horror with which The is feized had obliged her to turn a way her eyes from this fpectacle, which fhocks the fenfibility of her compaffionate foul. What would it be, alas! if she knew that Phanor, that the tender friend of Laufus, is the criminal whom they have devoted; if the knew that Laufus himself had taken his friend's place, and that it is he that is going to fight. Half naked, his hair dishevelled, he walks with an intrepid ftep: a poinard for the attack, a buckler for defence, are the only arms by which he is protected. Mezentius, prepoffeffed, fees in him only the guilty Phanor. His own blood is dumb, nature is blind; it is his own fon whom he delivers up to death, and his bowels are not moved; refentment of injury and thirst of vengeance stifle in him every other fentiment. He with a barbarous joy the fury of the lion animating by degrees. Laufus, impatient, provokes the monster, and urges him to the combat. He advances towards him, the lion springs forward. Laufus avoids him. Thrice the enraged animal presents to him his foaming jaws, and thrice Laufus efcapes his murderous fangs. In the mean time Phanor learns what is doing. He runs up: he bears down the multitude before him, his piercing cries make the amphitheatre refound. "Stop, Mezentius! fave your fon: it is he; it is Laufus that is engaged." Mezentius looks and knows Phanor, who haftens towards him: "O ye gods! what do I fee! My people, assist me; throw yourselves on the arena, ravish my fon from the jaws of death." At the name of Laufus, Lydia falls down dead on the steps of the amphitheatre ; her heart is frozen, her eyes are covered with darkness. Mezentius fees only his fon, who is now in inevitable danger: a thousand hands arm in vain for his defence; the monster pursues him, and would have devoured him before they could have arrived to his affiftacce. But O! wonder incredible! O happinefs unhoped! Laufus while he eludes the bounds of the furious animal, strikes him a mortal blow, and the fword with which he is armed is drawn reeking from the lion's heart. He falls, and fwims in feas of blood, vomited thro' his foaming jaws. The univerfal alarm now changes into triumph, and the people reply to Mezentius's doleful cries only by fhouts of admiration and joy. Thefe |