A Tragedy

An Epilogue, through custom, is your right,But ne'er perhaps was needful till this night:To-night the virtuous falls, the guilty flies,Guilt's dreadful close our narrow scene denies.In history's authentic record readWhat ample vengeance gluts Demetrius' shade;Vengeance so great, that, when his tale is told,With pity some e'en Perseus may behold.Perseus surviv'd, indeed, and fill'd the throne,But ceaseless cares in conquest made him groan:Nor reign'd he long; from Rome swift thunder flew,And headlong from his throne the tyrant threw:Thrown headlong down, by Rome in triumph led,For this night's deed his perjur'd bosom bled:His brother's ghost each moment made him start,And all his father's anguish rent his heart.When, rob'd in black, his children round him hung,And their rais'd arms in early sorrow wrung;The younger smil'd, unconscious of their woe;At which thy tears, O Rome! began to flow;So sad the scene! What then must Perseus feel,To see Jove's race attend the victor's wheel:To see the slaves of his worst foes increase,From such a source!--An emperor's embrace!He sicken'd soon to death; and, what is worse,He well deserv'd, and felt, the coward's curse;Unpitied, scorn'd, insulted his last hour,Far, far from home, and in a vassal's power:His pale cheek rested on his shameful chain,No friend to mourn, no flatterer to feign;No suit retards, no comfort soothes his doom,And not one tear bedews a monarch's tomb.Nor ends it thus--dire vengeance to complete,His ancient empire falling shares his fate:His throne forgot! his weeping country chain'd!And nations ask--where Alexander reign'd.As public woes a prince's crime pursue,So public blessings are his virtue's due.Shout, Britons, shout--auspicious fortune bless!And cry, Long live--Our title to success!