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 ///^ — — ^— = 
 
 CAMILLUS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE SELF-EXILED PATRIOT. 
 
 BY JONAS B. PHILLIPS. 
 
 FIRST PERFORMED AT THE ARCH-STREET THEATRE, PHILA- 
 DELPHIA, FEBRUARY 8, 1833. 
 
 NEW-YORK:— E. B. CLAYTON, 
 
 18 Lumber-street. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA:— C. NEAL, 
 
 16 Sowljj Seveuth 'Street. 
 
 "^4^^^^^^ 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 
 
 Jrch-streel Theatre, 1833. 
 
 Marcus Furius Camillus, Tribune, } ^t ^ t^ 
 and. ajierwards Dictator, \ ^'' «' ^- Pearson. 
 
 PoNTUs CoMiNius, a young Soldier, ) 
 and friend «/ Camillus, \ ^^'- burdock. 
 
 Lucius Apuleus Mr. Reed. 
 
 LiciNius Stolo Mr. W. S. Walton. 
 
 Fla vius Mr. Jones. 
 
 Marcus Ceditus Mr. Porter. 
 
 Lucretius Mr. Sprague. 
 
 Servus Sulpitius Mr. Horton. 
 
 Palo, Bondsman of Camillus Mr. Quin. 
 
 Soldiers, Senators, Citizens, 8fC. 
 
 Camilla, Daughter of Camillus Miss Riddle. 
 
 Rhea, her Nurse Mrs. Buckley. 
 
 GAULS. 
 
 Brennus, the Gallic General Mr. Stickney. 
 
 Officers, Soldiers, SfC. 
 
 SCENE— Partly in Rome and Ardea. 
 
 / 
 
 Z^ 
 
 Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year one 
 thousand eight hundred and thirty-three, by Jonas B. Phil- 
 lips, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United 
 States for the Southern District of New-York. 
 
 •vV'«#.- 
 
 

 
 TO 
 
 
 M. M. NOAH, 
 
 ESQ. 
 
 My Dear Sir: 
 
 The interest you have ever manifested in the cause 
 of the dramatic literature of our country, and the zeal 
 with which your efforts have always been directed to 
 its advancement, embolden me to dedicate to you my 
 first attempt at tragedy. 
 
 A stronger reason, however, exists, to justify the 
 liberty I have taken, in placing, without permission, 
 your name upon this page, and it is found in the 
 recollection of the frequent manifestations of friendly 
 regard I have experienced at your hands, and which I 
 am gratified in having the opportunity, thus sincerely, 
 however feebly, to acknowledge. 
 
 With sentiments of esteem, allow me to subscribe 
 myself, your grateful and attached friend, 
 
 JONAS B. PHILLIPS. 
 
This Tragedy was written during the summer of 
 1830, and, probably, would have remained in obscurity, 
 but for the friendly interest of H, G. Pearson, Esq., 
 who undertook the study and personation of Camillus, 
 and introduced it to public notice on the 8th of Feb- 
 ruary, 1833, at the Arch-street Theatre, in Philadelphia, 
 the city of our mutual nativity. 
 
 Whether it is to this circumstance, or to any intrinsic 
 merit the play possesses, I am indebted to the flattering 
 reception it received, and the favourable notices of the 
 critics of Philadelphia, the public will now have an 
 opportunity of judging ; and in throwing myself upon 
 the indulgence of its readers, I entreat them to bear in 
 mind, that it is my first invocation of the tragic muse. 
 
 Though not present at its performance, its success, 
 and the established reputation of the actors, are suflicient 
 guarantees that the respective parts were skilfully de- 
 lineated; and I avail myself of this opportunity to lender 
 my thanks to Messrs. Jones, Duffy &. Forrest, the 
 managers of the Theatre, and particularly to Mr. 
 Pearson, for the care and attention bestowed upon its 
 production. The unanimous award of praise to Miss 
 Riddle, who personated the character of Camilla, as- 
 sures me that I have every reason to be gratified that 
 the part was entrusted to one so capable of giving^it 
 effect. One other fact I mention with pride, and which, 
 perhaps, an author has seldom had an opportunity of 
 noticing, is, that my tragedy, an American production, 
 was performed, and well performed, by American 
 
 ACTORS. 
 
 To the gentlemen, who, though entire strangers, so 
 kindly furnished the prologue and epilogue, I tender my 
 most grateful acknowledgments, and only regret that, 
 in presenting the former to the public, I cannot announce 
 the name of its accomplished author. 
 
 This Tragedy is now the property of my fellow citi- 
 zens ; and if its publication tends, in the slightest degree, 
 to advance the cause of American dramatic literature, I 
 shall be amply remunerated in having contributed, even 
 thus slightly, to the promotion of an object of deep and 
 heartfelt interest. 
 
 New.York, July 18, 1833. 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 WRITTEN BY A FRIEND, AND SPOKEN BV MR. TlIAyER. 
 
 If we retrace the line of mental light, 
 To where its birth delivered it from night, 
 We'd find it, lessening back from age to age, 
 To have first dawn'd on the dramatic stage. 
 Will you not then rewardingly regard 
 The maiden Tragedy of our young bard ? 
 And let us, in your patriot fiat find, 
 Exotics don't monopolize your mind. 
 For you, he has explor'd Rome's classic ground, 
 Where heroes, bards, and patriots were found ; 
 Among them, did the good Caniillus rise. 
 To gild the calm and cheer the stormy skies. 
 Nor last was he to break the Roman's yoke, 
 Since Music first, among the stars awoke. 
 Wide o'er the world dark desolation threw 
 Her hopeless clouds, and veil'd the patriot few. 
 No vista gave a solitary ray. 
 No orient crimson hail'd the coming day ! 
 But dark-eyed calumny, with tow'ring crest, 
 Expell'd from Rome her bravest and her best. 
 Who wept e'en to behold his foeman bleed. 
 While coward slaves stood smiling at the deed. 
 Beside the gate, to speak his farewell will 
 To those who stood in friendship, changeless still, 
 Stood proud Camillus, with dishevelled hair. 
 His mind with grief diseas'd, his bosom bare ; 
 And then in bitterest anguish wept the doom 
 Which thus consign'd him to a living tomb. 
 And thou, resplendent daughter of the morn, 
 Of smiling Heav'n for weeping mankind born. 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 Bright Liberty ! when, driv'n by envious ire, 
 
 Thou did'st behold thy noblest son retire, 
 
 Thou couldst not find another rampart then, 
 
 From which to light with hope, the hearts of men ; 
 
 No friendly land on which to build thy shrine ; 
 
 No worthy altars, for thy fires divine ! 
 
 Hopeless around didst thou creation view, 
 
 And spread thy wings to bid the world " adieu." 
 
 But hark ! what shouts awake the weary skies ! 
 
 What glorious vision greets thy longing eyes ? 
 
 As Justice loans her scales, in which the slaves 
 
 Must sell their only home for foreign graves, 
 
 Camillas comes, to make the foeman feel, 
 
 If Rome must fall, tis not by ''gold" but "■steel.'"' 
 
 So persecuted man asserts his right, 
 
 And fires the patriot, for th' impending fight. 
 
 O'er their throng'd ranks the glittering eagles play ; 
 
 Fierce for the strife Camillus leads the way : 
 
 With fearless arm he strikes the deathful blow, 
 
 And frowns his country's vengeance on the foe. 
 
 Each crimson'd field, each trophied conflict braves, 
 
 A people rescues and an empire saves. 
 
 Oh ! if one virtue brighter than the rest 
 
 Still lives to dignify the human breast. 
 
 It is the love, the burning that we feel 
 
 For our dear native land, in wo and weal ; 
 
 It is to mingle with her tears our blood ; 
 
 Weep at her grief, and gladden at her good ! 
 
 It is, that be her foeman ne'er so strong, 
 
 We still defend " Our country , right or wrong," 
 
CAMILLUS. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — A Street in Rome. Flavius and other 
 Citizens assembled. 
 
 \st. Cit. Come they towards us, worthy Flavius ? 
 
 Flav. I cannot tell ; my sight is indistinct, 
 And cannot penetrate the gather'd crowd. 
 But is not yonder, Licinius Stolo ? 
 
 \st. Cit. The same, and with a 'lasty step he comes ; 
 There is a cloud upon his brow. Flavius, 
 Methinks this triumph of our Camillus 
 Likes hnn not. 
 
 Flav. Gently, neighbour ; he is here. 
 
 Enter Licinius Stolo. 
 
 Good morrow, sir ; a merry greeting t'you ; 
 A proud day this, for Rome I 
 
 Licin. Proud I say you so ? 
 Why a proud day for Rome ? come, tell me, sir ; 
 Yesterday, the sun shone full as bright upon her, 
 The wind was balmy, as it is to-day ; 
 Her citizens went to their daily toil 
 With cheerfulness and gayety. To-day, 
 They stand in idle groups about the streets, 
 And noisy acclamations, rend the air. 
 I say you speak not truly, then, fair sir, 
 For Rome, this is a day of grief, not pride. 
 
 Flav. Does not Camillus come, with conquest crown'd 
 From Veil ? 
 
 Luc. And how comes he ? didst ever hear 
 Of any victor who so enter'd Rome ? 
 In regal pomp, drawn in the sacred car, 
 
CAMILLUS. [Act I. 
 
 Attir'd in costly robes, jewell'd, and crown'd, 
 And painted with vermilion like a god. 
 
 Flav. He has done much for Rome. 
 
 Licin. And so have you. 
 I have heard you boast, that you were father 
 To four as gallant boys as ever Roman 
 Citizen was bless'd with. Make them good men. 
 And you will then have done as much for Rome 
 As your new deity. 
 
 Flav. You do him wrong. 
 A better Roman and a braver man 
 Exists not. See, he alights, and this way, 
 Follow'd by th' admiring crowd, approaches. 
 I pray thee, stay, and wear a calmer brow. 
 
 Licin. And join the noisy throng, and, like them, leap 
 And throw my cap in air, and shout hurrah ! 
 Or upon bended knee, with voice subdu'd, 
 Do homage to your idol. Shall I so ? 
 
 {Shouts without.) 
 
 Flav. Come, come, take down your hands, close not 
 Against the hearty shouts of gratitude. [your ears 
 
 Listen ! the soul of every Roman 
 Is pour'd forth ; you cannot now depart. 
 The victor's here. 
 
 Enter Camillus, Pontus Cominius, Lucius Apuleus, 
 and Citizens. Shouts andjlourish. 
 
 Camillus. Enough, enough, kind friends ; no more I 
 Your loud applause exceeds my poor deserts, [pray ; 
 And claims my gratitude. Hie to your homes. 
 Suspend your daily toil ; be this a day 
 Of mirth and recreation to ye all. 
 To one and all, once more I yield my thanks. 
 
 Cit. Hurrah! long live Camillus. 
 
 [Exeunt Citizens and Flavius* 
 
 Camillus. Pontus Cominius, thou canst tell, perchance, 
 Why thus Licinius Stolo stands aloof. 
 And seems not to partake the gen'ral joy. 
 
 Pon. He is of sullen humour, and when smiles 
 Beam upon other brows, frowns rest on his. 
 
Scene I.] CAMILLUS. 
 
 Camillus. Lucius Apuleus too : but then, lie came 
 And tender'd his congratulations; yet 
 With an air so cold, an eye so jealous, 
 I plainly saw, they came not from the heart. 
 Licinius has not spoken. 
 
 Pon. Not yet. 
 
 Shall I remind him of your presence ? 
 
 Camillus. No. I would not have you do so, Pontus; 
 The man that loves his country honestly, 
 Requires no prompting to perform his duty. 
 I have not seen my gentle daughter yet. 
 And she will chide me for my long delay ; 
 You shall speed on, and warn her of my coming. 
 
 Pon. You have assigned me to a pleasing task — 
 I hasten to perform it. 
 
 Camillus. Have with you. 
 Home, is the soldier's only spot of peace ! 
 And the bright smiles that welcome his return, 
 Affection's sunshine, give bloom and lustre 
 To the flowers of life, repay his cares. 
 And make his laurels ever green. 
 
 [Exeunt Camillus and Pontus. 
 
 Licinius Stolo and Lucius Apuleus come doxcn stage. 
 
 Licin. Well met, Apuleus ; 
 I thought not to have seen you in the throng, 
 Following the chariot of yon self-made god. 
 
 Luc. You spoke not. 
 
 Licin. No, I could not school myself 
 To play the flatterer, so bit my lips 
 In silence — where go you ? 
 
 Luc. To meet some friends. 
 Hark in thine ear, good Stolo ; this conquest 
 Shall be a dear one to the conqueror. 
 
 Licin. What mean you ? 
 
 Luc. You shall know all ; follow me 
 And I'll unfold to you my purposes. 
 
 Licin. I attend you. Something should now be done ; 
 The people arc as sudden in their hate, 
 As they are ever in their love. 
 
 Luc. 'Tis so. 
 
10 CAMILLUS. [Act I. 
 
 And I will turn the honey into gall. 
 
 'Tis but to wear a smooth unruffled brow, 
 
 Until the hour of accusation comes, 
 
 And then 'twill be so bold and back'd with proof. 
 
 Even his worshippers will cry out, " shame !" 
 
 I'll tell ye more anon. Come, it grows late. 
 
 And we must lose no time, Licinius. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — An Apartment in the Mansion of Camillus. 
 Enter Camilla, meeting Rhea. 
 
 Camilla. Now, quick ; what tidings Rhea ? I prithee 
 Comes my good father home, and is he nigh, [tell ; 
 
 That I, love wing'd, may fly to welcome him ? 
 Now answer me. 
 
 Rhea. There's one without, who bears 
 A message from him— shall I admit him? 
 
 Camilla. 'Twas a needless question : comes he not 
 With tidings from my father ? You tarry. 
 I would that you were younger and more swift. 
 But, behold, he does not wait my summons. 
 'Tis Cominius — thou might'st have said 'twas he ; 
 Thou should'st have ta'en the message from him. 
 Thou canst leave me, Rhea ; if need^ I'll call thee. 
 
 [Exit Rhea. 
 
 Enter Pontus Cominius. 
 
 Camilla. I gladly welcome thee, Cominius, 
 And joy sincerely in thy safe return. 
 Where does my father tarry ? 'tis most strange 
 He should have been so many hours in Rome, 
 And not have stolen one to give his child. 
 
 Pon. You wrong him, fair one, for his heart was here, 
 Though the people's love detain'd him from you. 
 Until the day thus far has spent itself. 
 He now wends homeward, but bade me hasten, 
 To allay your fears, and warn you of his coming. 
 
 Camilla. Thanks, good Cominius ! a thousand fears, 
 ^aus'd by his long delay, had fill'd my soul 
 
Scene 11. 1 CAMILLUS. U 
 
 With gloomy apprehension — now, tell me, 
 Is he well ? have not the toils of war 
 Impair'd his health ? has he escap'd all danger ? 
 Now, answer, I beseech thee, gallant Pontus. 
 
 Pon, See where he comes. His presence answers ihee. 
 Behold the glow of healihupon his cheek ; 
 Does not a step so firm betoken strength ? 
 
 Enter Camillus. Camilla meets him. 
 
 Camilla. My dear, dear father ! my silly heart's so 
 It cannot speak its welcome or its joy. [full, 
 
 Camillus. {embrncing her.) My own fair girl I Pontus, 
 if thou shouldst live 
 To be, like me, a father ! tiiou wilt say 
 The purest feelings that exalt mankind, 
 Are those to which paternal love gives birth ; 
 And no sublunar joy can equal that 
 Which the fond duty of a child aifords. 
 Come still closer to my heart, Camilla I 
 While thou art here, the wild and painful throbs 
 Which the loud plaudits of the multitude, 
 And the excitement which this conquest cause. 
 Give place to gentler feelings, such as spring 
 From the sweet calm of natural affection. 
 Tell me, how have you far'd ? how sped your time ? 
 Health cheer'd you in my absence, or else 
 Your cheeks, that wear a bloom so beautiful, 
 Speak falsely, which thy tongue has never done. 
 
 Camilla. I have indeed been well, save when my fears 
 For thee, dear father, in these times of peril. 
 Have caus'd a sudden sickness at my heart, 
 Which, for the moment, might perchance o'ercome me. 
 My good old Rhea has, since thou left us. 
 Been father and mother to tliy spoil'd child ; 
 And I have had a suitor in thine absence, 
 Who never dar'd to press his suit before. 
 But it matters not. 
 
 Camillus. It matters not ! 
 
 Didst thou say so, Camilla ? but it does ; 
 For when thou saidst so, girl, there came a cloud 
 Dark'ningthe sunlight of thy brow. I must know 
 
12 CAMILLUS. [Act I. 
 
 Who this same suitor was ; and thou wilt tell, 
 For thou hast never us'd disguise with me. 
 And, see, Cominius changes colour. 
 I gave him right to woo thee, so didst thou ; 
 That blush confesses it — come, speak frankly. 
 
 Camilla. I would not disobey thee, but I fear 
 When thou shalt know the man, thou wilt not heed 
 My terrors, and may proceed too rashly. 
 Promise thou wilt not do so. 
 
 Camillus. Camilla ! 
 
 Thou wert not wont to make conditions 
 With thy father. I bid thee say who 'twas ? 
 
 Camilla. Lucius Apuleus — but indeed 
 He will not dare renew it. 
 
 Camillus. He dar'd to make it. 
 
 Cominius, come —stop ; what did you say ? 
 Speak quick, Camilla ; how didst thou act ? 
 
 Camilla. As I deem'd comported with my honour. 
 I scorn 'd his suit, bade him leave my presence, 
 And when he disobey'd, order'd Palo 
 To thrust him from the door. 
 
 Camillus. And he did so. 
 
 Did he not ? 
 
 Camilla. 'Twas not requir'd : when woman 
 Is resolved, there is a stronger power in her eye. 
 Than in the arm of man : he saw me firm, 
 And left me. 
 
 Camillus. My brave girl ! thou art all Roman I 
 Come, Cominius, we will seek this gallant. 
 Camilla — foolish girl, why hold my robe ? 
 
 Camilla. My dear father ! my best Cominius I 
 'Twas this impetuosity, I fear'd ; 
 I do beseech ye both, to let it rest — 
 He will not dare renew his suit. 
 
 Port. Not dare ? 
 
 Did he not dare to make and press it too ? 
 He dar'd to clamber to an eagle's nest, 
 And when the parent bird's protecting wing 
 Stretch'd not its shelter o'er its noble young. 
 
 Camilla. Cominius, if, as I think, you love me, 
 Pursue not thus a broil so idle. 
 
Sceno II.] CAMILLUS. 13 
 
 I'll cling unto ye both ; ye sha'n't go forth. 
 Till ye have promised to forget it all ; 
 And, on my soul, if he again renews 
 His odious suit, ye both shall know it. 
 Upon a day like this, when the pure air 
 Isfill'd with acclamations in thy praise, 
 Wouldst thou, my father, see thy child in tears, 
 Care on her brow and terror in her heart ? 
 The lustre of a glorious vict'ry 
 Still is upon thy sword ; say, my father, 
 Would not blood like his dim it for ever ? 
 
 Camillus. It may be so. Rest, my poor trembler, rest; 
 I promise all you wish — Cominius, 
 You must yield as I do ; this little girl, 
 Will die with terror else, the silly one ! 
 
 Camilla. Now you are kind again, and I am happy. 
 But I forget the little feast that waits ; 
 Come, do it honour. 
 
 Camillus. Cominius may : 
 
 I must to the senate, where I'm summon'd : 
 They want explanation ; something about 
 A silly vow I made, and had forgotten. 
 Go with her, man ; partake her little feast ; 
 Amuse her with the stories of the war, 
 'Till I return ; and if Apuleus comes. 
 She will not need old Palo's aid again. 
 Farewell, farewell — I shall not leave ye long ; 
 Tho' if I staid 'till midnight, ye would deem 
 My coming speedy, love's hours are so short. 
 Again, farewell. [Exit Camillus. 
 
 Camilla. Come, Cominius, 
 
 If you would cheer me with your presence, 
 Baaish that frown, I pray — why lingers it ? 
 We have some rich Falernian within. 
 Perchance it will recall thy truant spirit. 
 
 Pon. Thy pardon, gentle one ; but I am chaf'd 
 Whene'er the insolence of Apuleus 
 Recurs to me. I'll look on thee and smile ; 
 Forget past cares, in present happiness, 
 And only talk of love — I've much to say. 
 
 Camilla. And I have much to ask — how sweet that 
 Which, like ours, my Cominius, commenc'd [love, 
 
14 CAMILLUS. [Act I. 
 
 In childhood, and which has grown and ripened, 
 Beneath the sunshine of a parent's smile. 
 Let us within, and we will then compare 
 The soul recorded notes of past events. 
 
 Pon. Call it the journal of the heart, sweet love I 
 The hallowed register of feelings 
 Pure as the dreams of angels. — I attend you. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— ^ Street in front of the Seriate House. 
 Flavius and Citizens discovered. 
 
 Enter LiciNius Stolo. 
 
 Licin. What make ye here ? are ye all men of wealth, 
 That ye can leave your avocations thus, 
 To follow still the footsteps of a man, 
 Who knows ye pliant, meek, submissive dolts, 
 And leads or drives ye as his pleasure prompts ? 
 Home, home, I say ; here ye are out of place. 
 
 Flav. We cry your mercy, sir ; we're Romans all j 
 Freemen, whose rights are equal to your own, 
 And 'tis befitting that we all should know 
 What our Senate decrees in this behalf. 
 
 Licin. Why, what should it decree ? your hero came;, 
 And boldly said, he had forgot the vow 
 That he would yield a tithe of all the spoils 
 Unto Apollo ; so it was ordained 
 Tliat the poor soldiers, who received the same. 
 Should each produce a tenth part of the value; 
 And then it was resolved, a vase of gold 
 Should be presented to the Delphian God. 
 
 \st Cit. And ends it there? and will they sanction 
 Tl.is trifling with a vow made to the gods ? [thus 
 
 Licin. Sanction ? why, perjury is virtuous, 
 And meets reward, not punishment. [Shouts without. 
 Hark to that shout ! I should not marvel now, 
 If they confer new honours on the idol I 
 
 Enter Lucius Apuleus. 
 Tell me, Apuleus, what new folly's this ? 
 
 Luc. Hold! what mean you, honest Stolo? folly! 
 You impeach the wisdom of the Senate, 
 Which has a third time made noble Camillas 
 
Scene III.] CAMILLUS. 15 
 
 Tribune ; and, behold, he now approaches, 
 To be confirmed here by the people's voice 
 In his appointment. What say ye, citizens. 
 Are ye satisfied ? 
 
 1st Cit. We are not satisfied ! 
 
 Luc. Why, this is well, what honest Roman is ? 
 He does not merit your affection, friends ; 
 And his ambition overleaps his claims — 
 I'm glad to hear ye say ye are not pleased. 
 
 Flav. Who says so ? 'twas but a solitary voice ; 
 And that, from one who speaks but for himself. 
 I am content with what has been decreed, 
 So is my neighbour Publius, at my side. 
 And so is Marcus here, and old Ventinus — 
 Speak ! are ye not ? 
 
 Citizens. We are all satisfied ! 
 
 Luc. Who bade you speak ? I say they're not content. 
 They spoke dissatisfaction thro' the voice 
 Of yonder independent citizen. 
 Who boldly dared to speak his feelings here, 
 And not disguise them with fine words, like you. 
 Silence ! I say. 
 
 Flav. Listen, good citizens, 
 
 I charge ye listen, how this pure patriot 
 Would control our speech, and bid us silence. 
 When we dare speak our honest sentiments. 
 
 [Shouts without. 
 Lo! the hero comes — mark yon discontent, 
 Yon " independent citizen" that spoke. 
 His cap is first in hand ; 'twould honour him 
 Beyond his poor deserts, to force his flight. 
 So let him e'en remain ; his shame is dumb. 
 
 Enter Camillus, followed by Citizens. Shouts, ^c. 
 Camillus. Thanks, friends and countrymen I had I 
 the gift 
 To coin fair words, and play the orator, 
 Ye should not find me niggard of my speech. 
 This unsought honour thrice conferred, and now. 
 At the very hour when your foes and mine, 
 The enemies of liberty and Rome, 
 Sought to deprive me of your envied love. 
 
16 CAMILLUS. [Act I. 
 
 Has tenfold claim unto my gratitude. 
 I pray ye, to your homes. Let those who will, 
 Prepare to join me 'gainst the Falerians. 
 Speak ! who will follow me ? 
 
 Citizens. All, Camillus, all ! 
 
 Camillus. With such defenders. Rome is ever safe! 
 Once more I bid ye home, and quick prepare, 
 For in this war, we needs must use despatch. 
 
 [Exeunt Citizens. 
 Lucius Apuleus, those are honest men. 
 Think you, that one of them would dare intrude 
 Into the dwelling of a citizen, 
 And in his absence, offer to his child 
 The daring insult of an odious suit ? 
 Speak out — what think you, sir ? Oh ! you are dumb. 
 Now, by the gods I but that 'twould honour thee. 
 Here in the streets of Rome, in open day, 
 I would chastise thee, like a worthless slave ! 
 What ! is your hand upon your sword ? 
 You will not dare to draw it, fearing mine 
 Should from its scabbard leap. Be quiet, sir ; 
 My sword is for the brave and honourable ; 
 For such as you, scorn is the sharper weapon. 
 
 Lucin. Apuleus, will you endure all this ? 
 You cannot fear him ; I am at your side. 
 
 Camillus. Oh ! you are valiant, sir, and would abet 
 This honourable man. Why, look ye, sirs, 
 Ye dare not strike a bold and open blow ; 
 And you, Lucinius, trembled even now, 
 Lest brave Apuleus should accept the aid 
 You proffered him so very gallantly. 
 
 Luc. You shall repent this public outrage, sir, 
 Upon a citizen, this gross offence 
 Against the city's quiet. Look to it. 
 
 Camillus. Didst thou speak ? thou, Lucius Apuleus ? 
 And talk of outrage on a citizen, 
 And dare to threaten me, in Rome's wide streets ? 
 Tempt me no more, lest I forget myself. 
 And cloud the glory of my ancestry. 
 By punishing thy insolence with blows. 
 By all the gods I I swear, I am abashed. 
 That I have been betray 'd into the shame 
 
Scene III.] CAMILLUS. 17 
 
 Of holding parlance with so vile a thing. 
 Good day, fair sirs, friends of the injur'd people, 
 I leave ye to your patriot conference. 
 I know ye, masters ; ye have much to learn, 
 And your experience shall be dearly bought. 
 
 [Exit Camillus. 
 
 Licin. Was it forbearance, Lucius, that withheld 
 Thy hand, or fear ? 
 
 Luc. Fear ! he holds no thunder ! 
 
 Tho' 'tis well he cannot rob high Jove 
 Of that dread attribute of pow'r supreme ! 
 Hark ye, good Stolo, if prudence sometime 
 Did not temper vengeance, too often 
 Would our acts defeat our ends. 'Tis as bad 
 To move too rashly in an enterprise. 
 As to protract it till the time has past. 
 Had I slain him then, what would we have gaiii'd ? 
 Nought but the people's hatred. We must wait. 
 The fever of the times will soon grow cool. 
 There's still another charge to blast his fame, 
 We yet can make, well fortified with proof; 
 And in a dearer point I yet shall wound him. 
 
 Licin. And that is — 
 
 Luc. What not even thou must know ; 
 
 Mine is a private animosity. 
 
 And must not clash with that in which we're leagued. 
 Have you sounded Marcus Manlius ? 
 
 Licin. Yes ! 
 
 He may be won in time. He does not love 
 Camillus, nor yet hate him. Give but spur 
 To the ambition of young Manlius, 
 And we secure him. Have you seen Quintus ? 
 
 Luc. Yes ! 
 It is now the hour he appointed 
 To meet me at my dwelling. Come with me ; 
 Some others will be there you'll joy to meet. 
 Fear Camillus 1 Stolo, he shall fear us ! [Exeunt. 
 
 2* 
 
18 CAMILLUS. [Act I. 
 
 SCENE lY.—The Garden of Camillus. 
 
 Enter Pontus Cominius and Camilla. 
 
 Pon. Thanks, my Camilla, 'twas a gentle strain, 
 And I would bid thee, fairest, still sing on, 
 Had I not now thy kindness overtax'd. 
 Music of peace, like that which you discourse, 
 Falls on the soldier's ear as the soft strains 
 That angels warble in their Paradise. 
 
 Camilla. Go to, you are no camp-bred soldier, Pontus^ 
 Inur'd to wars, and to the din of arms ; 
 You have grown a pretty flatterer ; 
 A coiner of fair and silken phrases, 
 To suit the vanity of womankind. 
 
 Pon. For once you are unjust. I am not school'd 
 In that soft art, known to the plum'd gallant, 
 Who starts and trembles at the trumpet's sound. 
 But sinks like a lull'd infant to repose, 
 When the soft music of a mandoline, 
 Touch'd by some fairy hand, falls on his ear; 
 But see, your father comes ; his stop is quick ; 
 There is much earnestness upon his brow — 
 Something of sudden import has occurred. 
 And it disturbs him strangely — he is here. 
 
 Enter Camillus. 
 
 Camillus. Camilla, I have left some toys with Rhea, 
 That will delight thy girlish fancy much ; 
 Go, examine them — Pll send for thee anon. 
 
 Camilla, {taking his hand, and looking earnestly in hia 
 face.) My dear, dear, father ! 
 
 Camillus. Well, what would'st thou have? 
 
 There is a world of question in that look. 
 An anxious speaking in those eyes of thine. 
 To which thy tongue will give no utt'rance. 
 Speak, what is't thou seek'st ? thy doves are dead! 
 Well, I have ordered others for thee. 
 Not that ! well vrhat is it then ? speak boldly, girl. 
 
 Camilla. I will, since you command me so to do. 
 I am a silly girl, but I can read 
 
Scene IV.] CAMILLUS. 19 
 
 In thy flush'd cheek and restless wandering eye, 
 That something has occurr'd to mar thy peace. 
 
 Camillus. Why, what should do so ? I am much be- 
 The people throng around me as I walk, [lov'd, 
 
 And the Senate have again declar'd me 
 A tribune of the military ; yet 
 My peace was marr'd ; I saw Apuleus, 
 Saw and heard him speak, and, would'st believe it, 
 I did not strike him down, tho' my hands itch'd 
 To grasp the caitiff's throat, and yet they did not. 
 Camilla, Rhea is waiting for thee ; 
 Why dost thou linger thus and hang on me ? 
 I will not leave thee and not bid farewell. 
 Go, timid one, I'll summon thee again : 
 I would confer with Pontus — lingering yet? (kissing her.) 
 There, take this kiss, and go. [Exit Camilla. 
 
 Now, Cominius, 
 Raise my standard quickly, for we must march, 
 With all due speed, 'gainst the Falisciii. 
 These arc bad times, when to protect ourselves 
 We needs must keep our citizens abroad. 
 Sedition poisons the pure air at home ; 
 They must be taken where it cannot reach. 
 
 Pon. Thou canst not lear sedition ; 'twill not reach 
 The brave, protected by the people's love. 
 
 Camillus. The people ! 
 
 The winds are truer to a point. 
 Than they are ever in their love. To-day, 
 The glory of a brilliant victory. 
 Wins their applause, and we miscall it, love — 
 To-morrow, their same idol, fails perchance, 
 And he is hunted down, a thing disgraced. 
 I tell you, Pontus, there are foes at home. 
 Who strive with venom'd industry, to spread 
 Sedition thro' the city. Camilla ! [ To Camilla, entering. 
 Did I not bid thee wait my summons, girl ? 
 Thou heard'et me, did'st thou not ? 
 
 Camilla. Pardon my fears. 
 
 That urg'd me to thy presence. My father, 
 There is a crowd without, that loudly cry, 
 They come to join the legions of Camillus — 
 I saw thy ready armour in the hall ; 
 
20 CAMILLUS. [Act L 
 
 And as I pass*d, beheld thy gallant war-steed 
 At the gate ; my heirt has sadly answer 'd 
 That I came to ask, again you leave us. 
 
 Camillus. And it has answered truly; so it is — 
 My country bids me to the wars again, 
 And I have ever tutor'd thee, Camilla, 
 To bovi submissively to her commands. {Noise without. 
 
 Enter Palo. 
 What means means that tumult, Palo ? 
 
 Palo. The people 
 
 Throng around the gates, and claim admittance. 
 
 Camillus. What do they seek ? 
 
 Pah. Permission at your hands, 
 
 To follow you to the Falerian wars. 
 
 Camillus. Why, this is well — go, Palo and admit them. 
 
 [Exit Palo. 
 Camilla shall behold, by what brave men 
 Her country it defended. Cominius, 
 What would Licinius Stolo say to this ? 
 This looks not like sedition, think'st thou so ? 
 And yet there is no trusting to their love, 
 Tho' it were best that we should seem confiding. 
 My Camilla, why dost thou tremble, girl ? 
 These are our friends that come — Romans, not foes 1 
 
 Enter Marcus Ceditus and Citizens. 
 Welcome, all welcome, friends and countrymen I 
 This bold forthcoming in our country's cause, 
 Gives earnest of success, and claims my thanks. 
 I'm ready on the instant to set forth — 
 Are ye prepared to quit your firesides ? 
 
 Ced. We are prepared, and joy that you accept 
 The humble aid we proffer in the cause 
 Of Rome and liberty ! 
 
 Camillus. I could not wrong 
 
 The country of our birth, by a denial 
 Of your patriot suit. Camilla, 
 Here in the presence of our countrymen, 
 I bless thee, my fair child, and bid farewell. 
 No tears — thou art a Roman I 
 
 Camilla. My father 1 
 
Scene IV.] CAMILLUS. 21 
 
 Camillus. Wil't thou not say farewell unto Cominius ? 
 Come cheer thee, girl ; you do these gallant men 
 A most unpardonable wrong, to fear. 
 Or seem to fear, the issue of this war. 
 We must succeed, and I shall soon return 
 Again, to see my fair and darling one 
 Smile a bright welcome on her fond father. 
 
 Camilla. I will obey, and act as thou would'st wish, 
 Although my heart should break — go, my father I 
 Cominius, countrymen, I bid ye go. 
 Parent to child, and husband unto wife, 
 Brethren to sisters, lovers to weeping maids, 
 A safe, a joyous, and a quick return. 
 I yield a blessing, and farewell to all. 
 
 Camillus, (embracing her .) My own brave girl! thy 
 pray'rs will prosper us. 
 [To Rhea, entering.] Rhea, thou hast come in time to 
 
 take thy charge. 
 And guard her with an ever jealous care. 
 There, let her weep upon thy breast, old Rhea; 
 She cannot longer struggle with her tears. 
 
 [He places Camilla in the arms o/Rhea. 
 Camilla. Farewell, my father ! Cominius, farewell ! 
 Pon. (kissing her hand.) May all good angels guard 
 thee, gentle one. 
 And Heaven bless thee with benign protection. 
 
 Camillus. Now, Cominius ! now, my countrymen ! 
 Follow ! on to Faleria — away ! 
 
 [Rushes out, followed by Cominius a w(i Citizens. 
 Camilla breaks from Rhea, and kneels in an 
 attitude of prayer. 
 
 END OF ACT FIRST. 
 
22 CAMILLUS. [Act II. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.~The Garden of Camillvs. 
 Camilla discovered. 
 
 Camilla. How weary are the hours of loneliness I 
 How sad, and dull, and spiritless lime flies. 
 When beguiled not by the joyous presence 
 Of those whose smiles give lightness to his wings. 
 I have heard that solitude was pleasing, 
 But could it e'er possess a charm for those 
 It severed from the scenes of early life ? 
 Ah, no I 'tis sweet to listen to the voice 
 Which first broke on the ears of infancy ; 
 To gaze upon the face which first we lov'd, 
 Breathe the same atmosphere inhal'd by those 
 Whose smiles, the very sunlight of existence, 
 Impart unto the fragile plant of life 
 Its bloom and lustre ; such are the pure charms, 
 Of which cold solitude deprives mankind. 
 With those we love, the dreariest spot on earth 
 Would be a Paradise ; deprived of them. 
 The fairest 'neath the sun becomes a desert. 
 Who comes ? is't you, good Rhea ? 
 
 Enter Lucius Apuleus. 
 
 Luc. No, fair one, 
 
 Not thy old nurse, one who would cherish thee 
 With tenderer care 
 
 Camilla. Apulous I 
 
 Luc. Yes, proud maiden ! the scorn'd Apuleus 1 
 I am not one whom a cold look could freeze ; 
 Or haughty words from scornful beauty's lips. 
 Fright into abandonment of purpose. 
 I love thee, and I tell thee so, Camilla : 
 Despite of that cold frown and bitter smile, 
 I dare to tell thee that I love thee, girl 1 
 And more, will have requital of my love ! 
 
 Camilla. Requital I yes, thou shalt have requital, 
 Such as thy insolent presumption meeds. 
 
Scene I.J CAMILLUS. 23 
 
 Think'st thou that tho' my choice was free as air, 
 I could yield up my heart to one like thee ? 
 
 Luc. I ask it not ; it is a foolish creed, 
 Which tells us of the interchange of hearts ; 
 'Twas only made for fools and sickly poets. 
 I do not ask thy heart — I want thyself— 
 Heart, soul, jewels and casket must be mine ! 
 
 Camilla. Am I the daughter of Camillus? 
 A free born maid of Rome, and doom'd to hear 
 Language like this, from lips that I abhor ! 
 Twice hast thou dared to persecute me thus — 
 Twice in my father's absence, knowing well, 
 If he were here, thou durst not thus presume. 
 At once, I do command thee from my presence ! 
 
 Luc. I cannot, fair one, yield to that command ; 
 Thy charms have chained me to this fairy spot. 
 But now I heard thee rail 'gainst solitude. 
 And yet, unkindly, you command me hence — 
 To leave you to your cheerless loneliness. 
 I will not go. 
 
 Camilla. Will not ? what ho ! without ! 
 
 Palo ! Servius ! where are all the slaves. 
 That not one comes, to rid me of his presence ? 
 
 Luc. Listen, Camilla; all thy cries are vain. 
 'Tis said thy father wends a homeward course. 
 And all thy bondsmen have gone forth to meet hira. 
 I have come here to tell thee, that on thyself 
 Depends the future greatness of thy sire ; 
 A breath of mine can blast him. 
 
 Camilla. Dost threaten ? 
 
 The air of grateful Rome, I know too pure 
 For calumny to live in. I fear not 
 Thee, Apuleus, nor thy idle threats. 
 The love thou canst not win, thou shalt not force. 
 Once more, I bid thee hence ! 
 
 Luc. {Kneeling and taking her hand.) Not 'till I 
 And swear on bended knee, and on this hand, [swear, 
 That I will yet subdue thy stubborn pride. 
 
 Camilla. This is too much ! my swelling veins will 
 Oh for a dagger to avenge myself! [burst I 
 
 Unhand me, msolent 1 help, Rhea, help ! 
 
24 CAMILLUS. [Act 11. 
 
 PoNTUs CoMiNius rushiug in. 
 
 Pon. Who calls for help ? is it thou, Camilla ? 
 [Seizing Apu LEV s.] Ha! have I found thee slave ? art 
 And daring to pollute her with thy touch ? [here again. 
 Now could I strike this poniard to thy heart, 
 But that the filthy blood, it must let forth, 
 Would taint the atmosphere Camilla breathes. 
 
 Camilla. Let him depart, Cominius, I pray; 
 He is unworthy of thy noble rage. 
 
 Luc. Unhand me, sir ! I will not be detained ; 
 I am unarmed, and you most valiantly 
 Avail yourself of the advantage, 
 Which my defenceless situation gives. 
 
 Pon. Poor braggart, hence ! thou art too vile a things 
 E'en for the chastisement a rod could give. 
 Begone, and if thou dar'st, hie to the Senate, 
 And look Camillus in the face : he's there 
 The conqueror of the Faliscii, 
 The hero of a bloodless victory ; 
 The news is wormwood for thee — hence, serpent I 
 
 Luc. Serpent! dost think me one, Cominius ? 
 Beware my sting — beware the serpent's venom. [Exit^ 
 
 Pon. He threatens, but fear him not, Camilla ; 
 He trembles while he does so — the dastard ! 
 Call back the truant roses to thy cheek, 
 For I have news to joy thy filial heart. 
 Thy father has return'd again triumphant ; 
 No widows' tears or hapless orphans' cries, 
 Embittering the sweets of victoiy. 
 At the Senate house, awhile he tarries. 
 But with his presence soon will gladden thee. 
 How now ! why dost thou tremble so ? art ill ? 
 
 Camilla. I do not tremble — do I, Cominius ? 
 It is not for myself, indeed it is not. 
 But for my father, whom I fondly love. 
 Haste to the Senate house, Cominius ; 
 Be near my father, watch Apuleus, 
 For he has sworn his ruin — delay not. 
 Perhaps 'tis idle fear, but oh I I feel 
 As though some unknown sorrow o'er me hung. 
 Thy arm, Cominius — nay, do not chide 
 
Scene II.] CAMILLUS. 35 
 
 This silly weakness, even with a look. 
 I have borne much, and borne it with a pride, 
 Befitting well the daughter of Camillus — 
 But we lose time, and I would have you speed. 
 Inpart not to my father what thou'st seen ; 
 Say I but sent thee to urge his coming. 
 Thou wilt not sure deny me ? 
 
 Pon. Deny thee ? 
 
 Nothing, my gentle one, that thou could'st ask. 
 Quiet thy fears, Camilla ; be assured 
 The people's love gives safety to Camillus. 
 Apuleus dare naught, but vent his spleen 
 In breath, noisy words, the pointless weapons 
 The envious use, that dare not strike a blow. 
 Thy father's corslet is a well spent life ; 
 The traitor's dagger cannot pierce it, sweet I 
 His country's gratitude presents a shield, 
 "Which guards him 'gainst the shafts of calumny. 
 Fear not, I soon shall bring him to his home ; 
 Thy love will make him then, invulnerable. [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE 11.— The Senate Chamber. Servus Sulpitius 
 and other Senators. 
 
 Camillus and others discovered. 
 
 Ser. Camillus, the Senate confirm the league 
 Which you have made with the Faliscii. 
 The fathers, from your lips, through me, request 
 Narration of this bloodless victory. 
 
 Camillus. I gladly yield compliance, though unus'd 
 To play the braggart, or be historian 
 Of my own adventures. The tale is this — 
 The city schoolmaster, a paltry knave. 
 False to his country and his sacred trust, 
 Conducted artfully unto the gates. 
 The children of the noblest citizens 
 Faleria could boast ; and braver boys 
 Never gave gladness to fond parents' hearts. 
 The slave would have me hold them prisoners ; 
 And crav'd that when the fathers claimed their sons, 
 I should demand the city as their ransom. 
 3 
 
26 CAMILLUS. [Act II. 
 
 I could not wrong the country of my birth, 
 
 To cherish for an instant the base thought, 
 
 That she could prize a conquest bought with treason ; 
 
 So spurned the traitor, and bade the lictors 
 
 Strip the caitiff's back ; and when obey'd, 
 
 Plac'd in the hand of every boy a rod, 
 
 And saw him lash'd, e'en through the very streets 
 
 Of the fair city he would so betray. 
 
 Then came the wond'ring Falerians forth, 
 
 And when they learned why I chastis'd him thus. 
 
 They own'd that Justice, not the sword, subdu'd them. 
 
 Thus, fathers, was Faleria obtain'd. 
 
 6'er. A conquest brighter than the sword could win. 
 
 Enter Pontus Cominius, who whispers Camillus. 
 
 Camillus. She sent thee to haste my coming, say you ? 
 The fond one I we will delay no longer. 
 Fathers, I crave permission to depart. 
 Unless state business my presence claims. 
 
 Ser. We have already wrong'd thy daughter's love. 
 In having thus detain'd thee. Fare ye well ! 
 
 [Camillus is about leaving, when Lucius Apuleus 
 and LiciNius Stolo enter. 
 
 Luc. Back, we demand thy presence ! 
 
 Camillus. You demand ! 
 
 Fathers, your pardon if I now remain. 
 In opposition to the leave just granted, 
 And learn why these good men demand my stay. 
 
 Ser. We are amazed that you, Apuleus, 
 And Licinius Stolo, men of years. 
 Should so rudely come into this presence. 
 Your object, masters ? 
 
 Licin. To serve our country I 
 
 To strip yon traitor of the gaudy plumes. 
 In which his foul ambition hath array'd him. 
 
 Camillus. Eternal Jove, hear this! that he should 
 This calumny^'gainst me. Camillus traitor ! [breathe 
 
 Lnc. Will not the Senate hear the accusation ? 
 
 Camillus. Hear it, fathers ! I do entreat ye, hear it ! 
 I will be silent until all is told. 
 
 Ser. This is sudden, yet we perforce must hear it. 
 Proceed, Apuleus — let no private wrath 
 
Scene 11.] CAMILLUS. 27 
 
 Poison the accusation that you make — 
 Proceed with calmness, 'tis befitting truth. 
 
 Luc. Believe me, fathers, 'tis the public good, 
 Which I am ever anxious to promote, 
 Prompts me to make this open accusation. 
 
 Camillus. The public good I I cry your mercy, sir ; 
 'Twas inadvertence ; proceed, I pray you. 
 Oh I I will be silent, mute as marble I 
 
 Ser. The charge, Apuleus ; what is it, speak ? 
 
 Luc. Still grosser frauds, relating to the spoil 
 Ta en in the Tuscan wars. And this, not all ; 
 I do proclaim that for his private gain, 
 Camillus, felon like, conveyed from Veii 
 The city's brazen gates. This the plain charge, 
 Which to sustain there's proof to be adduc'd. 
 Which must condemn him in the people's eyes. 
 
 Ser. Speak, Camillus, will you reply to this ? 
 Oppose denial to so foul a charge. 
 
 Camillus. Need I reply ? I promised to be silent, 
 I will remain so, will be silent still. 
 
 Luc. Mark, fathers ! mark ye the convicted one ! 
 He dare not oppose a bold denial ; 
 But, coward like, shrinks from investigation. 
 This is the man who so adores his country 1 
 He loves her very truly, does he not ? 
 
 Camillus. Oh ! all ye gods I this force? me to speak I 
 Do I not love my country as my life ? 
 You can tell, old Manius, how I lov'd 
 When with the pith of fifteen years of life, 
 I engaged the Equii, and the Volscii ; 
 When in that battle, wounded as I was, 
 I plucked the javelin from my bleeding thigh, 
 And still fought on, and put the foe to flight. 
 
 Luc. I crave the Senate to restrain his speech. 
 
 Camillus. They dare not, slave ! it is my privilege, 
 A freeman's right, that shall not be restcain'd. 
 Not love my country ? Gods ! is my nature chang'd ? 
 Have I become the senseless, heartless thing, 
 He would describe me to my fellow men ? 
 Did I not love my country, when I strove 
 With anxious zeal to dry the orphan's tears, 
 And soothe the widow's sorrows ? I could speak, 
 
28 CAMILLUS. [Act II. 
 
 Could make yon serpent writhe, and vainly strive 
 To shun the gaze of man ; but 'tis a theme 
 Uninteresting to the public ear, 
 A private wrong, for private punishment. 
 
 Luc. I do entreat the judgment of the Senate. 
 
 Camillus. And so do I ! What is the Senate's judg- 
 I do beseech ye, fathers, call for proofs, [ment ? 
 
 Weigh cautiously this mighty accusation, 
 Proceeding from a source so very pure, 
 That all defence weighs naught against the charge. 
 
 Ser. We'll meet again and listen to the proofs : 
 Apuleus, doubtless, would not make a charge 
 'Gainst one so high in favour with the people, 
 Without strong evidence in its support. 
 You will attend, Camillus ? 
 
 Camillus. Why should I ? 
 To listen to yon venom'd slanderer I 
 Again to be betray'd into the shame 
 Of being mov'd by aught that he could say. 
 If I am needed, ye can send for me, 
 I will obey your summons, be assur'd. 
 
 Ser. Be it so then, the senate is adjourn'd. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut Camillus and Cominius. 
 
 Camillus. Cominius, summon my friends quickly. 
 And bid them meet me at the city gates ; 
 Excuse me to Camilla — dost thou hear ? 
 
 Pon. Excuse you to Camilla ? Your meaning ? 
 She waits your coming, with an anxious heart. 
 Return, I pray you. 
 
 Camillus, Why should I return ? 
 To fill her heart with keener pangs ; 
 At once to meet and part from her again ? 
 I tell you, my Cominius, I must live 
 Where the air I breathe is pure and wholesome. 
 The atmosphere of Rome is poisonous; 
 Ingratitude, makes it unhealthy, sir. 
 
 Pon. Will you not wait the issue of this charge ? 
 
 Camillus. The issue ? I know it, Cominius, 
 Know it as well as though it were pronounced. 
 I read it in cold looks ; the ready pens 
 Of those who listen'd to th' accusation ; 
 Recorded it, ere scarce the charge was made. 
 
Scene III] CAMILLUS. 29 
 
 By all the gods ! I am prejudg'd, condemn'd, 
 
 And will not wrong myself to make defence. 
 
 J am resolv'd, and will abandon Rome. 
 
 Nay, urge me not: hadst thou the power 
 
 To drive old Neptune from his monarchy, 
 
 Or stop the glorious sun in his career, 
 
 Then would my purpose change. But, my daughter ! 
 
 My ever gentle and confiding child I 
 
 No matter — thou wilt protect her kindly — 
 
 I know thou wilt. Go to her speedily ; 
 
 Invent — no, do not ; tell the honest truth, 
 
 Lest rumour, which augments all evil, 
 
 Should bear the tale too rudely to her ears. 
 
 Once more, farewell ! I'll to the city gates ; 
 
 Send my friends thither, and in an hour hence, 
 
 I shall expect you, for a last adieu. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— The City Gates, and environs of Rome. 
 
 Enter Camillus. 
 
 Camillus. It has come to this ! had a seer foretold 
 That I, Camillus, would abandon Rome, 
 I should have call'd the graybeard liar ! 
 And yet to this, has envy driven him. 
 Eternal city of the seven hills I 
 I gaze my last upon thee, while the sun, 
 Sheds on thy temples his departing beams. 
 Not love thee ! answer, ye gilded heavens ! 
 Did'st e'er behold Camillus weep 'till now ? 
 He has seen sorrow, and these founts were dry ; 
 But now they open and pour forth their streams, 
 To dew the soil, which ne'er again perchance 
 Footstep of his shall press. 
 
 Beautiful home ! 
 Soil where my fatheis sleep in blessed rest, 
 A long farewell ! Oh I catch the word, ye winds, 
 And bear it with my blessings o'er the land. — 
 Who comes ? the friends I summoned ? no, 'tis he — 
 fie who hath driven me to this extreme — 
 He who has sought tn stain mv rising fame — 
 3* ' 
 
30 CAMILLUS. [Act II. 
 
 He whom I hate, and thus will trample on. 
 
 [Rushing on Lucius Apuleus as he enters, then 
 throwing him from him. 
 No, no, poor reptile ! take thy worthless life ! 
 Death at my hands would bless, not punish thee. 
 I would have thee live to curse existence — 
 Live to become degraded and despis'd — 
 Live to be scorn'd by every honest man ; 
 Thou and thy base coadjutors, that dar'd, 
 With falsehood to assail the fame ye envied. 
 
 Lur. Hear, Camillus ! 
 
 Camillas. Silence ! I'll hear you not. 
 
 You must hear Camillus ; hear, and obey ! 
 'Twill gladden you to learn that I leave Rome — 
 Mark what I enjoin on you at parting. 
 I have a daughter, fair as the first rose 
 The balmy breath of summer warms to life ; 
 As pure and spotless, even in her thoughts, 
 As angels are that guard the throne on high. 
 You have dared to look on that chaste being, 
 With thoughts that only dwell in minds like thine : 
 Nay, you have dar'd assail her with rude speech. 
 I leave her betrothed unto Cominius. 
 Approach her not, her father, tho' away, 
 Leaves one to guard his treasure and defend it. 
 Hence ! you have heard me ; honest men approach, 
 And 'twill degrade me in their sight, if found 
 In parlance with the vilest slave in Rome. 
 Hence! [Exit Avvl.kvs. Camii.i.vs looking after him. 
 
 How he casts his eyes upon the earth, 
 Afraid to gaze upon the broad-fac'd sky. 
 He mends his pace. Already lost to sight I 
 'Tis well — I'm glad they have not seen him here. 
 
 Enter Flavius, Cominius, Marcus Ceditus, and other 
 
 Citizens. 
 Welcome, welcome, to bid farewell, a word 
 Which tells at once, that we have met to part. 
 
 Mar. Nay, we entreat you to forego your purpose, 
 Nor rashly quit the country of your birth. 
 Whatever fine the Senate may decree 
 That you shall pay, we freely will discharge. 
 
Scene III.] CAMILLUS. 31 
 
 Camillus. It may not be — I'll hear no more of this. 
 The gods attest that I am driven hence 
 By envy and malignant hate, not crime ; 
 Ye all bear witness to it. Now, farewell. 
 Cominius, your hand, my son. Hear, friends; 
 I call him son, my fair daughters' husband, 
 If he will deign accept an exile's child, 
 A voluntary exile, if you will. 
 Yet still a banish'd man. 
 
 Pon. Nay, mock me not ; 
 
 Wrong not my nature by such words, I pray. 
 
 Camillus. Cominius, she is thine — my daughter! 
 To bless thee with her love, while thou art kind ; 
 To curse thee with it, when thou art cruel. 
 The purest blessing will become a curse. 
 When once man feels that he deserves it not. 
 But such can never be thy case, my son ; 
 Thou wilt protect and prize thy peerless bride. 
 
 Pon. Give me your hand, Camillus ; feel my heart ; 
 Let each pulsation be a holy vow, 
 Which binds me to protect the sacred gift — 
 To guard her with an ever watchful eye, 
 And cherish her until each pulse is still. 
 
 Camillus. Enough, I know you will, Cominius. 
 Friends, to all I leave a Roman's blessing. 
 And to my foes bequeath a Roman's scorn ! 
 (At the Gates.) City of my proud ancestors, farewell! 
 Oh I may you learn how much Camillus lov'd you, 
 And curse the faction which compelled his flight. 
 If you should need him, his ears will hear your cry, 
 His arms be ready to defend you still. 
 
 [As Camillus enters the Gates, 
 
 Camilla, (without.) My father ! 
 [Camillus stops, she rushes in, and falls in his arms. 
 
 Camillus. My Camilla ! my heart's pride ! 
 
 How very pale she is, Cominius. 
 I'll close my eyes, while I imprint one kiss 
 Upon that marble brow. 
 
 [Kissing her, and placing her in the arms of Comimva. 
 Now take her quickly, 
 
32 CAMILLUS. [Act III. 
 
 If I gaze longer I shall be unniann'tl. [well ! 
 
 Now, RoiiKi — now, friends — now, daughter — fare ye 
 [Rushes through the Gates, the Citjzens with 
 outstretched ar7ns gazing after him. 
 
 END OF ACT SECOND. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. — An Apartment in the Mansion o/Cauxli-vs. 
 Enter Pontus Cominius and Camilla. 
 
 Pon. Thou say'st thou hast a little suit to jjress ; 
 I half suspect its nature, gentle one, 
 And therefore cannot say 'tis granted, love, 
 Ere it be nam'd. 
 
 Camilla. Yet I will urge my suit, 
 
 And press it with the energy of love. 
 Cominius, take me to Ardea, 
 To my self-exiled father — wilt thou not ? 
 My presence, dear Cominius, will prove 
 A solace to his grief, and heal the wound 
 His country's base ingratitude has made. 
 
 Pon. It was thy father's wish, his mandate, sweet. 
 That you should stay in Rome. 
 
 Camilla. And without liim ? 
 
 Remain in Rome, and he an exile from her ? 
 Impossible ! you know, Cominius, 
 How when a very child, with careless heart, 
 I listened for his step, and with the shout 
 Of joyous infancy, ran forth to meet him. 
 With what delight I look'd up in his face, 
 And read in his bright smile and tear-fill'd eyes, 
 How much he loved his own Camilla. 
 That smile has ever beamed on me through life. 
 Without my father I'm alone in Rome. 
 
 Pon. Alone, Camilla ? did'st thou say alone. 
 And Cominius, thy husband, here ? 
 
Seen* I.] CAMILLUS. 33 
 
 Camilla. Yes, my Cominius, I said alone ; 
 The gods bear witness how I prize thy love ; 
 But my first love is he who gave me life. 
 A husband's love is as of yesterday — 
 That of a parent lives ere we exist, 
 And even after we have ceased to be. 
 Wilt thou not take me then to Ardea ? 
 Do, dear Cominius ; the fearful dream 
 Of which I told thee, hangs with heavy weight 
 Upon my memory, and fills my heart 
 With dread forebodings of approaching wo. 
 
 Pon. Forget it, dear one, it was but a dream, 
 A shadow of the imagination, 
 Which never slumbers, though our eyes are clos'd - 
 Its wild creations should disperse with sleep, 
 And leave no trace of terror on the mind. 
 
 Enter Palo, hastily. 
 Well, Pale, you are pale — I can read much, 
 Yet naught distinctly, in your anxious look. 
 What are your tidings? speak at once, old man. 
 
 Palo. Quintus Ambustus has sustained defeat — 
 The Gauls, with triumph flush'd, march against Rome, 
 And even now are at the Colline gate. 
 
 Pon. Then have they enter'd Rome ! where are the 
 That all is quiet at a time like this ? [people, 
 
 Where's Flavius and Marcus Ceditus ? 
 
 Palo. 'Tis said they have assembled in the forum. 
 
 Pon. Camilla, I will leave you for a time ; 
 There is no danger, love, can reach you here. 
 I will but see if aught can now be done. 
 That may avert the threat'ning ruin. 
 
 CamilltL. Go, Cominius, go to the people. 
 And tell them, when their dark ingratitude 
 Drove Camillus lience, Rome was abandon'd 
 To the just indignation of tha gods, 
 And now their doom awaits them. 
 If not too late, they may repair the wrong; 
 They yet may call Camillus to their aid, 
 Preserve their country, and appease the gods. 
 
 Pon. Thus inspired, I leave thee, my Camilla. 
 If danger threatens, I will soon return, 
 
34 CAMILLUS. [Act III. 
 
 To guard you as my life from its approach- 
 And now, farewell. 
 
 Camilla. Farewell, Cominius; 
 
 Go, for the good of Rome — husband, farewell. 
 
 [Exit Cominius. 
 How my heart sunk when I pronounced the word I 
 What terror strikes me to the very soul I 
 Alas ! I fear 'tis the dread certainty 
 Of coming evil ; it steals upon me 
 Like the silent and cold approach of death. 
 I am very faint — thy arm, good Palo — 
 Lead me to the garden, where the pure air 
 Will cool the burning fever of my brain. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IL— ^ Street. 
 
 Enter Flavius, Marcus Ceditus, and Citizens. 
 
 Citizens. Camillus I we will send for Camillus I 
 
 Flav. What I call ye now upon Camillus ? 
 Now that the Gauls already are in Rome, 
 Ye learn to prize the hero ye have lost. 
 You, who joined the cry Apuleus rais'd 
 Against the purest of Rome's citizens, 
 Now change your voices, and cry, "Camillus I" 
 Go to Apuleus and Licinius Stolo, 
 They are your leaders, masters — go to them, 
 Solicit them to drive the Gauls from Rome. 
 
 Citizens. Down with Apuleus ! down with Stolo ! 
 
 Flav. Peace ! peace ! this is no time for idle brawls ; 
 We have wives, and children, and aged men. 
 To place in safety — Ave must look to them. 
 See where Cominius comes in breathless haste. 
 
 Enter Pontus Cominius. 
 
 Pon. Hence, for your lives ! our streets are filled witli 
 Who, savage like, spare neither age nor sex. [Gauls, 
 Hence to your homes, while yet your homes are left — 
 Hence, if ye would preserve your wives from sharae, 
 Y our daughters from the foe's licentiousness. 
 
 Flav. Our wives and children, where will they be safe ? 
 
Scene II.] CAMILLUS. 35 
 
 Pon. In the capitol, guarded by Manlius, 
 And a band of husbands and of brothers. 
 Know ye old Manius Papirius ? 
 
 Mar. We know him well ; he must be protected. 
 
 Pon. He is beyond protection, Ceditus. 
 They have slain him, even in the forum, 
 Where he sat 'mong the fear-gather'd people, 
 The prototype of silver-bearded Time — 
 And others have been murdered in cold blood. 
 
 Mar. Unhappy Rome ! where now is thy Camillus ? 
 
 Pon. Where yet her voice may reach him, Ceditus. 
 The Senate have assembled in the capitol. 
 There conduct the people, and in their name. 
 Demand at once that a decree be passed, 
 To call Camillus from his banishment, 
 Invested with the office of Dictator. 
 
 Mar. Rome is surrounded by her enemies ; 
 How can a messenger, with such decree, 
 Escape their vigilance ? 
 
 Pon. Gain the decree. 
 
 And I will bear it through a host of foes, 
 In safety to the self-exiled hero. 
 What say you. Citizens ? 
 
 Citizens. To the capitol ! 
 
 It shall be so decreed — Ceditus, lead on ! 
 
 Pon. Then speed at once, ye have no time to lose ; 
 I'll meet ye at the capitol — farewell ! 
 
 [Exeunt all but Pontus and Flavius. 
 I have promised, and must leave Camilla ; 
 Leave my fair bride, e'en at a time like this, 
 When most she needs protection. Be it so ; 
 She will approve it for her country's sake ; 
 And with her prayers prosper my mission. 
 I will not trust myself to bid farewell. 
 But write it, with the cause of my departure. 
 
 [Takes out tablets, and writes. 
 Flavius, bear this to my Camilla ; 
 Tell her to be of light and fearless heart ; 
 All will be well — our barque will safely ride 
 Over the troubled ocean of existence. 
 And reach at last a haven of security. 
 Use despatch, good Flavius ; meet me soon, 
 And bear her answer to me — fare you well ! [Exeunt. 
 
36 CAMILLUS. [Act IIL 
 
 SCENE III.— The Gardens attached to the Mantion of 
 
 Camillus. 
 
 Enter Camilla an cZ Rhea. 
 
 Camilla. He comes not — ah ! whither does he tarry T 
 Danger frowns, and all I love are absent ; 
 I am alone, defenceless, hapless, hopeless! 
 
 Rhea. Not hopeless, ^ ntle mistress, 
 
 Cainilla. Yes, hopeless; 
 
 Suspense has made me so : anxiety. 
 Which naught relieves, blights the fair flow'rs of hope— 
 I hear a footstep — look out, good Rhea. 
 Is it my husband — my Cominius ? 
 
 Rhea. No, lady, 'tis our neighbour, Flavius — 
 He is here. 
 
 Enter Flavius. 
 
 Camilla. Welcome, my good Flavius ; 
 
 Thrice welcome, if you come to soothe my heart, 
 With tidings of its lord, Cominius. 
 Speak, your errand ? 
 
 Flav. {presenting the tablets.) These tablets speak for 
 They are from Cominius, fair lady. [me; 
 
 Camilla, {having read them.) Gone to Ardea, for my 
 dear father ! 
 His country calls him to her arms once more. 
 Rome will be saved I Camillus will return ! 
 My blessings go with thee, Cominius ! 
 And yet he should have come to bid farewell. 
 Perhaps a last farewell, to his Camilla. 
 A last ? why is it that a cloud so dark, 
 Dims the bright picture, fancy fain would draw ? 
 Why is it that the whisperings of hope 
 Fall coldly on my heart, and my sad mind 
 Is filled with gloomy images of death ? 
 
 Flav. Gentle lady, Cominius bade me say. 
 That he would have you bear a careless heart; 
 Dispel the shadows of sickly fancy, 
 And cherish hope, that all may yet be well. 
 
 Camilla. If again you should meet Cominiu», 
 Bear my farewell and blessing to him. 
 
Sfcene III.] CAMILLUS. 31 
 
 Tell him, how weary ev'ry hour will pass, 
 Until his safe return shall gladden me. 
 Say I am well, quite well, good Flavius. 
 1 will strive indeed to wear a cloudless brow, 
 And banish from imagination's eye 
 The fearful phantoms that appal my soul. 
 
 Flav. Farewell then, lovely lady — peace to Rome, 
 Safety to thy lord, and happiness to thee ! [Exit 
 
 Camilla. Happiness to me ! it sounds like mockery !• 
 Once did I dream that I was very happy. 
 Life is a constant dream ; day after day, 
 Visions of earthly joy before us rise, 
 And when within our reach we fancy them, 
 In all their loveliness they pass away. 
 Like frost-form'd landscapes melt beneath the sun. 
 
 Rhea. Sweet lady, you encourage melancholy. 
 Let me conduct you to your couch within ; 
 Sleep has become a stranger to your pillow — 
 Strive, I pray, once more to court the rover. 
 
 Camilla. Sleep ! 'tis for the happy and light hearted. 
 The mind that's tortured with suspense and dread, 
 Knows no repose — 'tis true, the eyes may close, 
 But who can call it sleep, when waking fears 
 Pursue us in our dreams, and rob sweet sleep 
 Of all its pure and balmy influence ? 
 
 Rhea, Still let me urge it, for the late alarms 
 Have stolen all the colour from thy cheeks, 
 And dimm'd the lustre of thy gentle eyes. 
 Camillus will not know his rosy child, 
 In the pale bride of young Cominius. 
 Now lean on me. 
 
 Camilla. My faithful, kind old nurse I 
 
 I will, if it were only to repay 
 Thy kindness, with obedience to thy wish. 
 My tender Rhea ! thou hast watch'd my growth 
 From infancy to womanhood, with the pride 
 The gardener views a fav'rite flower 
 Bud and ripen into bloom and brilliancy ; 
 And when the gale that sears it shall arrive, 
 Thy tears will fall to dew its lifeless form, 
 But give no freshness to the blighted plant. 
 Come, my good Rhea, my cares have made me 
 4 
 
38 CAMILLUS. [Act III. 
 
 Prematurely old ; and tliou art youthful, 
 
 When compared with one, who needs thy arm 
 
 To lean upon — think me an infant yet. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. — A view near Ardea. 
 Enter Camillus and Lucretius. 
 
 Lucre. Listen, Camillus! 'tis the voice of Rome, 
 Who, in distress, now calls you to her aid. 
 
 Camillus. It may not be — 1 am a banished man. 
 What! would you take an exile for your leader? 
 Go back to Rome — where are your patriots ? 
 Your Apuleus, Stolo, and Ambustus ? 
 They will prepare ye to resist the Gauls. 
 Why have ye fled from Rome ? back and defend her ! 
 
 Lucre. Led by you, we gladly will, Camillus. 
 If not, we will remain in Ardea, 
 And bid farewell to Rome, for ever ! 
 
 Camillus. Look ye, Lucretius, Rome still exists, 
 And, exile as I am, I'm still a Roman ! 
 I would resign the last red drop of life 
 To serve my country, give up all I prize, 
 Save that which all her kindness could not give, 
 Which all her cruelty shall not destroy— 
 Pure honour, a spotless reputation, 
 Evergreens that bloom when all the laurels 
 Won in the battle field have wither'd. 
 Tliere is a Senate still in Rome ; I say, 
 i will not stoop to them that injur'd me, 
 And proffer aid : they shall solicit it. 
 
 Lucre. The people's voice calls loudly to Camillus. 
 
 Camillus. Fll hear it through the proper organ, then, 
 The Senate, sir. 
 
 Lucre. Think of your ancestors I 
 
 Camillus. I do; can you not read my thoughts of them 
 In the determination of my speech ? 
 
 Lucre. Think of your daughter? she is still in 
 Rome. 
 
 Camillus. My Camilla ! she has a brave husband ; 
 The shield of wedded love protects my child ! 
 
 Lucre. But at a time like this, when Rome's in danger, 
 
Scene IV.] CAMILLUS. 39 
 
 Think you Cominius will abandon her^ 
 And for a wife, desert his country's cause ? 
 
 Camillus. I. would curse him if he did, Lucretius. 
 He will consign her to the care of heaven ! 
 No more of this ; I hope to die for Rome, 
 But then my honour must outlive my life. 
 Tell me of my child — forget the soldier. 
 Think only of the father — is she well? 
 I left her half dead, in the arms of Pontus — 
 She recover'd, did she not ? Answer me. 
 
 Lucre. When I left Rome, Camilla was in health* 
 
 Camillus. And happy, was she not ? 
 
 Lucre. As happy as one that loves a father 
 As she does, can be in his absence. 
 
 Camillus. I know she loves me, very, very fondly, 
 And was never happy in my absence. 
 Well, it may be that I may yet behold her ; 
 Again be welcom'd with her gentle smile ; 
 And, perchance, her filial hand may close 
 My eyes in the last hour of existence. 
 
 Lucre. You will return, then ? 
 
 Camillus, When I am suramon'd : 
 
 You cannot move a rock, which the loud sea 
 Has lash'd, yet left imbedded in its place 
 As firmly as though storms had ne'er assail'd it. 
 No more — follow me ; I am not houseless, 
 And you will not despise the exile's cheer. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. — A Street hearing the appearance of inva- 
 sion. Citizens flying, pursued by G.wlb. 
 
 Enter Marcus Ceditus, followed by Lucius Apuleus. 
 
 Luc. Give me one moment's converse, Ceditus. 
 
 Mar. Detain me not, I will not idle stand 
 While I have strength to strike a blow for Rome. 
 Each moment is a life — let me pass on ! 
 
 Luc. For what? resistance now is unavailing. 
 
 Mar. You who have brought this ruin on fair Rome, 
 With calmness may behold her temples blaze, 
 Her fathers' tombs destroyed, her daughters sham'd ; 
 I will defend them while a hope remains, 
 
40 CAMILLUS. [Act III: 
 
 A hope that brave Camillus may return. 
 
 Ha ! lo, that rascal Gaul, who rudely drags 
 
 Yon shrieking maiden through the blood-stain'd streets ! 
 
 It is a Roman's daughter, so disgraced ! 
 
 I wear a sword that shall defend th' innocent. 
 
 {Rushes Old. 
 Luc. He strikes him to the earth — the girl is in his arms, 
 Safe from her ravisher. 
 
 [Citizens cross the stage — Apuleus stops one. 
 What new alarm ? 
 Cit. Do not impede our flight ; we are pursued 
 By the barbarians thirsting for our blood ; 
 Our dwellings are in flames — away, away. 
 
 [Exeunt Citizens, 
 
 A glare of light illuminates the scene. 
 
 Luc. Hal it is so ; the raging element 
 Spreads destruction wildly. By all the gods ! 
 The dwelling of Camillus is in flames ! 
 Camilla is alone, defenceless there, 
 Her husband and her father both away ; 
 I may save her, and thus obtain the prize 
 So long desir'd. 
 
 Palo crosses. 
 Luc. Palo. 
 
 Palo. Fly, for the love of heaven, to her aid. 
 I am old and feeble, or would not crave 
 Assistance for my mistress, at your hands. 
 The slaves have fled in terror from the flames. 
 Away, to the rescue of Camilla, 
 
 While I speed in search of further succour. [E^pit, 
 
 Camilla, (without.) Unhand me, villain I help, in mer. 
 cy help ! 
 Luc. Her voice ! a ruffian Gaul has seiz'd her, 
 And like a slave drags her along the causeway. 
 There is but one— come forth, my trusty sword, 
 ^id me to snatch the treasure from his grasp. 
 
 {Rushes out. Tumult increases. Citizens fy, 
 AruLEUs crosses, with Camilla in his arms.) 
 
 END OF ACT THIRD. 
 
Scene I.l CAMILLUS. 41 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. — 7*7/6 Retire tnant of Camillvs near Ardedf 
 with a distant view of the Ardcan Camp. 
 
 Camillus discovered. 
 Camillus. The foe in Rome ! a fierce and savage foe. 
 
 Razing the temples of the gods to earth, 
 
 Staining their altars with her noblest blood ; 
 
 And I not there to strike a single blow 
 
 In her defence ; an exile from her soil. 
 
 No, not an exile — he is an exile 
 
 Who with him bears his heart in banishment; 
 
 But mine I left in Rome, as full of love 
 
 As when it beat within this scarred breast, 
 
 To nerve my arm against her enemies. 
 
 I am no exile then — my child is there ! 
 
 My own Camilla ! may I say she's there ? 
 
 When I have heard, that through the streets of Rome, 
 
 Slaughter with bare and bloody arm hath stalked, 
 
 Unsparing and unmerciful — my soul 
 
 Grows sick and weary of its own alarms. 
 
 Pon. (without.) Where is the Roman General, Camil- 
 Camillus. Here is Camillus, the Ardean leader, [lus ? 
 
 Near the Ardean camp. Who calls upon him ? 
 
 Enter Pontus Cominius, disguised. 
 
 Pon. A Roman and a friend. You know me not; 
 And yet our hands have oft been knit together. 
 Our hearts throbb'd with love for the same object. 
 And our swords been in the same cause unsheathed* 
 Do you not know me now, Camillus? 
 
 Camillus. Yes, 
 
 Pontus Cominius, my daughter's husband ; 
 And he from Rome, when Rome is in distress. 
 Thou hast no ties to bind thee to her now ; 
 And I am childless, else why art thou here ? 
 
 Pon. I come with other tidings — Heaven grant, 
 That my fair bride may still exist in health, 
 As when with her approval I left Rome* 
 4* 
 
42 CAMILLUS. [Act IV. 
 
 Gamillus. Why art thou here? why haet thou left 
 
 her then ? 
 Pon. Because Rome needs her gallant General ! 
 Behold, Camillas, here's the just decree, 
 By which the Senate, with the people's voice, 
 Name you Dictator, and implore your aid. 
 
 [Camillus takes the paper, glances over it, and, 
 falling on his knees — 
 Camillus. I thank the gods ! I yet may die in Rome I 
 Die and bequeath my honour to my child, 
 Uncompromitted and unsullied still. [Rises, 
 
 Welcome, most welcome, my Cominius! 
 Now tell me all — who of my friends are slain ? 
 Where did the slaughter first commence, and how ? 
 
 Pon. In the forum, where, in fear and silence. 
 The people had assembled — the first that fell 
 Was the old man, Manius Papirius. 
 
 Camillus. Did they slay him ? that harmless, weak old 
 Why every furrow in his cheek could tell [man ! 
 
 The story of a year, and every lock, 
 Which Time's cold hand had bleach'd, confirm the tale. 
 Why I have sat upon that old man's knee. 
 And listened with the glee of infancy 
 To his recital of some gallant fight ; 
 How such and such a wound, which he would show 
 W'ith proud delight, was gained — and he is dead. 
 Well, he shall he revenged. Proceed, Cominius. 
 
 Pon. 'Tis a sad catalogiie — let us haste to Rome ; 
 Her desolation will tell all at once. 
 
 Camillus. True, we will use despatch. First to the 
 I must inform the Ardeans, my friends, [camp ; 
 
 That Rome once more has call'd me to her arms. 
 Behold, it is in sight. Some gallant hearts are there, 
 Enlisted in the cause of Rome, but waiting 
 For the signal, to hasten with Camillus 
 To her rescue. 
 
 Pon. Then give new wings to time. 
 
 For ev'ry minute is an age to Rome, 
 Until the welcome news of your return 
 Inspires her with hope, her/oes with terror. 
 
 Camillus. On then, on, to the deliverance of Rome! 
 
 [ Exeunt. 
 
Scone II. J CAMILLUS. 43 
 
 SCENE II. — An Apartment in the Mansion 0/ Apuleus. 
 Camilla discovered on a couch, sleeping — Lucius Aru- 
 LEUS watching her. 
 
 Lite. She sleeps ! how very beautiful she is ! 
 Though sorrow and alarm, with wintry touch, 
 Have blanched her cheek, blighting the healthful rose. 
 She sleeps beneath my roof, within my power. 
 Without a friend to call upon for aid ; 
 Yet when I gaze upon that pallid face, 
 So lovely in its pale, chaste purity; 
 Or meet her speaking eyes, and in them read 
 The fea.rlessnesa of virtue — I tremble. 
 Tremble to pluck the fruit so long desired. 
 Which fate or fortune placed within my reach. 
 As though to tempt, then laugh at me. 
 
 Camilla, {in her sleep.) Cominius ! father ! help me, 
 or I die — 
 The serpent twines his hideous folds around me. 
 Wilt thou not kill him, father ? [ Waking. 
 
 Where am I ? 
 
 It was a fearful dream : Rhea ! Palo ! 
 
 Alas ! I had forgotten — I am indeed 
 
 Too near a serpent now. Grief has a claim 
 
 To solitude — why is mine invaded ? 
 
 Luc. Hear me, Camilla ; 'tis not that fortune 
 
 Made me the happy saviour of your life, 
 
 Tiiat I claim privilege to watch your slumbers, 
 
 And tell yon how I love. 
 
 Camilla. Talk of love— of life, 
 
 When all I love in life, to me are lost. 
 
 It was no generous spirit nerved the arm. 
 
 Which from the Gaul's rude grasp delivered me; 
 
 Else hadst thcu ta'en me to the capitol, 
 
 Where all the matrons of invaded Rome 
 
 Have found a sanctuary — hadst thou done so. 
 
 Then would my heart have prized the gift of life 
 
 With gratitude. It is not yet too late ; 
 
 Conduct me thither. 
 
 Luc. I cannot part with thee — 
 
 Thou art as safe beneath my roof, Camilla. 
 
44 CAMILLUS. [Act IV. 
 
 Camilla. Safe ! yes, as the lamb that seeks a refuge 
 In the gaunt wolf's den. And yet 1 fear not ; 
 Base as thou art, thou durst not do me wrong. 
 Although thou art surrounded by thy slaves, 
 And I a lone, defenceless, hapless woman, 
 I do defy thee in thy very halls ; 
 Laugh at, and scorn thee, and despise the still. 
 Tliere is a hand, that will ere long release me. 
 
 Luc. What hand, Camilla ? 
 
 Camilla. The blighting hand of deaths 
 
 Which breaks the fetters of the hapless slave, 
 And gives an eternal manumission! 
 Already do I feel it on my heart, 
 Where all is cold as ice. 
 
 Lite. And still you smile — 
 
 Smile while you speak of the approach of death! 
 
 Caviilla. Do we not smile on one we gladly welcome ? 
 When on thy heart the dread conviction falls. 
 That the grim monarch of the grave is nigh. 
 Thou wilt not smile — how thou wilt tremble then ! 
 Tremble like a terror stricken infant. 
 So do the guilty shrink from his approach. 
 While the pure consciousness of well spent life 
 Supports the good, robs death of all his terrors* 
 
 Luc. Camilla, banish these gloomy images ; 
 There's lustre in thine eyes, and on thy cheek 
 Returning bloom speaks health. 
 
 Camilla. Mistake it not — 
 
 It is the fever that consumes my brain. 
 Kindling my eye, flushing my pallid cheek. 
 Hear me — I would not die beneath thy roof; 
 Take me to the capitol ; there would I yield 
 My soul to the possession of the gods. 
 
 Luc. Talk not thus, Camilla. 
 
 Camilla. Ha! thou wilt not t 
 
 Then will I go alone. Detain me not ; 
 I have grown strong — thy power is nought to mine ; 
 Pursue me not — I will outstrip the wind, 
 While fear and guilt shall hold thee prisoner. 
 
 Luc. Think of the peril — no, you shall not go ! 
 
 Camilla. Shall not ? there is more peril 'neath thy 
 roof. 
 
Scene II.J CAMILLUS. 45 
 
 Than in the foe-beleaguer'd streets of Rome. 
 
 Unhand me instantly, Apuleus ! [Struggling. 
 
 Luc. I will not part with thee, Camilla ; 
 Now thou art here, think'st thou I will resign 
 My cherish'd hopes ? when once the miser 
 Grasps a long-sought treasure, he holds it firm ; 
 No power can wrest it from him — still I say, 
 Thou shalt not go ! 
 
 Camilla, (breaking from him.) Poor idiot ! 
 Why, what an infant guilt has made of thee ; 
 Did I not say thy strength was nought to mine ? 
 Approach me not — dare not impede my flight. 
 A virtuous death amid my country's ruins. 
 Will be more welcome than a life dishonoured, 
 E'en in the splendid mansion of Apuleus. [Exit. 
 
 Luc. Ho I bar the gates ! permit her not to pass 1 
 She is demented, craz'd ! — Now, by the gods ! 
 The slaves obey mo not — she passes them, 
 Without impediment, like a frighted deer. 
 So swift her speed. She must not thus be lost ; 
 And yet I stand, as though some magic spell 
 Had chained me to this spot. I will follow, 
 Though at the peril of my existence. 
 What ho ! without there ! follow in pursuit ! 
 
 [Going, is met by Licinius Stolo. 
 
 Licin. Where in such haste, worthy Apuleus ? 
 
 Luc. I can hold no parlance now, Licinius — 
 Camilla — 
 
 Licin. I know the pretty story. 
 
 The dove has 'scaped the talons of the kite — 
 Well, let her fly — methinks that times like these 
 Are ill adapted for an am'rous war. 
 It is reported that Camillus comes. 
 
 Luc. Her father ? then she will find a refiige 
 In his arms, ere I could overtake her. 
 'Tis better so, than he should find her here. 
 Let him come. 
 
 Licin. We cannot help it, Lucius. 
 And when he comes 'tis Rome's deliverance ; 
 The tide of public love again will set 
 In favour of the hero ; we must strive 
 Still to divert its current, and make it turn 
 
46 CAMILLUS. [Act IV. 
 
 Towards young Marcus Manlius, the youth 
 Who saved the capitol, and by that exploit, 
 Gain'd the people's love — shall we so, my friend ? 
 
 Luc. The means, Licinius ? 
 
 Licin. Time will provide them. 
 
 All now is calm — the Senate is about 
 To listen to the terms proposed by Brennus, 
 To which if we accede, the Gauls at once 
 Will leave the city, ere Camillus comes, 
 To force them to abandon it. 
 
 Luc. Where do they meet ? 
 
 Licin. At the foot of the Capitoline hill. 
 Shall we go thither ? we may do so now 
 Unquestioned — we there can also feel 
 The pulse of the people. 
 
 Luc. I attend you. 
 
 But I know the people. When Camillus comes, 
 if perchance he comes ere all be settled, 
 They will again extol him like a god. • 
 There's Flavins and Marcus Ceditus, 
 Who have not lost a jot of love for him. 
 Flavins will say, (I know his humour,) 
 It was the geese that saved the capitol, 
 Not Marcus Manlius ; and the wise people 
 Will cry out, " so it was!" and there 'twill end. 
 
 Licin. Still let us make the effort. We will not lose 
 A probable advantage, from the fear. 
 That though we seek it, it may not be gained. 
 It is idle to quit an enterprise, 
 Because, forsooth, the timid conjure up 
 A thousand obstacles, which ne'er exist. 
 Save in imagination — airy nothings. 
 Come, then ; on what now art thou brooding ? 
 
 Luc. I may meet Camilla. 
 
 Licin. Well, and thou dost ? 
 
 She will not strike thee dead — where is thy soul 
 For enterprise ? Shake off this lethargy — 
 Be once more a man, once more Apuleus. 
 Why, boys, to see you thus, would laugh at you. 
 Come among men again ; you have too long 
 Remain'd at home inactive — follow me. 
 
 Luc. I will go with thee where'er thou shalt direct ; 
 
Scene III] CAMILLUS. 47 
 
 I will recall my truant spirit home, 
 
 And once more grasp thy hand in fellowship. 
 
 Licin. Why this is well ; I know you now again. 
 Follow at once ; if we would reach the hill 
 Before the sun has taken leave of it, 
 We must use speed. 
 
 Luc. Lead on, Licinius, 
 
 Whatever be thy course, I'll follow thee. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— The Capitoline Hill. Servus Sulpitius, 
 Flavius, Lucinius Stolo, Lucius Apuleus, and other 
 Citizens, Brennus, Gallic Officers, and Soldiers, 
 assembled. 
 
 Ser. Name the conditions now ; propose the terms 
 On which you will withdraw your troops from Rome ; 
 We are prepar'd to do whate'er is just. 
 
 Bren. Heap gold into these scales, until its weight 
 Shall be a thousand pounds ; when that is done 
 I will withdraw my forces from the city. 
 
 Ser. What say ye, citizens ? ye have heard the terms — 
 Shall we thus purchase Rome's deliverance ? 
 
 Licin. Their silence answers, and we must accede ; 
 We have too long endur'd the pains of war. 
 And sigh for bright and snowy-pinion'd peace. 
 
 Ser. Bring forth the gold, then. Gauls ! prepare the 
 scales. 
 [The scales and gold are brought. Gauls bear 
 down their side of the scales.) 
 
 Flav. Shame ! shame I mark, citizens, the faithless foe 
 Have brought false weights — will ye submit to this ? 
 
 [Brennus, throwing his sword, scabbard, and belt 
 in the scales. 
 
 Bren. Ay, and to this ! we force submission, sir I 
 
 Ser. Hold, sir ; what means all this ? 
 
 Bren. What should it mean, 
 
 But to the conqucr'd, wo ! 
 
 1st Cit. Throw down the scales .' 
 
 We are not slaves, to be insulted thus. [Shouts without. 
 
 Luc. Hear ye those shouts ! 
 
 Flav. They are Roman voices ! 
 
 'Tis a joyous shout. Suspend a while the treaty. 
 
48 CAMILLUS. [Act IV. 
 
 Bren. Suspend it ? ye have acceded to the terms — 
 It is concluded. 
 
 [Camillus, rushing in, and striking down the 
 scales tiith his sword. 
 
 Camillus. 'Tis not conckided, slave ! 
 We will deliver Rome with steel, not gold I 
 
 Citizens. Camillus ! hail, brave Camillus, hurrah ! 
 
 Bren. What means all this ? 
 
 [Camillus, pointing to Cominius and Soldiers^ 
 who enter. 
 
 Camillus. They answer you. 
 
 Learn, sir, I am first magistrate of Rome. 
 No treaty is complete without my sanction, 
 Which, to a league like this, shall ne'er be given. 
 Go with your gold into the capitol.; 
 And Gauls, take ye away your ready scales. 
 
 Bren. Against all right have you infringed this treaty. 
 
 Camillus. Against all right was such a treaty made. 
 No more of this; I'll listen to new terms. 
 Or force ye from this soil, whiche'er ye choose. 
 
 Ser. Let us have peace ; sanction the treaty made. 
 And we will leave the ruins of our homes, 
 And go to Veii. 
 
 Camillus. Is such the general voice ? 
 
 Luc, Such is the people's voice ; they sigh for peace. 
 
 Camillus. Silence ! I ask'd the general voice, not thine. 
 I marvel that you dare uplift it here. 
 Speak, one that I can trust ; what say the people 7 
 
 \st Citizen. Rome is in ashes ; we have not the means 
 Wherewith to rebuild her walls again, 
 Nor hearts to do so ; we will go to Veii. 
 
 Camillus. What ! leave your country ? sell the dearest 
 rights 
 That men can hold, and thus become as aliens 
 To the soil where first ye gaz'd upon the sun ? 
 Oh ! shame ! shame ! but look around ye, Romans. 
 Here are the tombs of all your ancestors. 
 Where sleep the relics of the mighty dead. 
 Here are your children, ever taught to love 
 The scenes of liberty, which once ye priz'd. 
 Where are your hearts ? What ! have the dogs of Gaul 
 So frighten'd you with barking, that ye can 
 
Scene I.] CAMILLUS. 49 
 
 Resign, at once, the holy land of birth, 
 
 The hallow'd home of your progenitors, 
 
 Where all ye love have liv'd, where all should die 1 
 
 I know ye not ; ye are not Romans, 
 
 That would abandon Rome, and go to Veii, 
 
 A place deserted both by gods and men, 
 
 Baffled, disgrac'd, and captur'd ! 
 
 By great Jove ! 
 Ye are not so debas'd ; be men again ; 
 Strike but one blow, and ye deliver Rome, 
 The home of freemen, and the seat of gods ! 
 
 Citizens. We will remain in Rome I Death to the 
 Gauls ! 
 
 Camillus. I knew your hearts throbb'd as they should, 
 my friends. 
 Take my defiance, Gauls ! we still are free. 
 And will maintain our freedom with our lives. 
 
 Bren. Since battle is the cry, we are prepared ; 
 And the first blow we strike be to thy heart ! 
 
 Camillus. Be it so, if so the gods ordain it ! 
 All Rome to arms ! for Rome's deliverance ! [Alarums, 
 [Camillus engages Brennus. Skirmish, 
 
 END OF ACT FOURTH. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE l.-^An AiJartment in the Mansion 0/ Lucius 
 Apuleus. Enter Lucius Apuleus and Licinius Stolo.' 
 
 Luc. Said I not truly, good Licinius, 
 That when Camillus should return from exile 
 The people would with open arms receive him, 
 And hail him the deliverer of Rome ? 
 
 Licin. Ay, truly ; and yet I tell thee, Lucius, 
 
50 CAMILLUS. [Act V. 
 
 We still may rob the eagle of his plumes. 
 Camillus has oppos'd the general wish 
 To leave the smoking ruins of the city, 
 And emigrate to Veii; with faint hearts, 
 The citizens rebuild their fallen homes, 
 And murmur that perforce they must remain 
 Dwellers in poverty 'mid desolation. 
 
 Luc. What should we do ? 
 
 Licin. Go forth among the people, 
 
 Sow wider still ihe seeds of discontent, 
 And give a motive why Camillus wished 
 That they should dwell in Rome, and not in Veii, 
 
 Luc. And what the motive you would so ascribe 
 Unto the course Camillus has pursued ? 
 
 Licin. Could we not say, and plausibly declare. 
 That his ambition, not restrained by age, 
 And thirst of glory, no success can quench, 
 Craves still a higher title than Dictator ? 
 In forcing them, weak, weary as they are, 
 Thus to rebuild a ruin, when he knows 
 That a fair city's ready to receive them, 
 He would invade the right of Romulus, 
 And be styled no longer General, 
 Or Dictator, but Founder of fair Rome. 
 
 Luc. Still I fear. 
 
 Licin. Fear ? that is a maiden's word, 
 
 And comes with an ill grace from Apuleus. 
 Fear ! why, I and all that know you, sir, have seen 
 Sparks of high spirit flash from you — fear, indeed ! 
 
 Luc. So, when the flint is struck, you may behold 
 The fire it emits, that for an instant 
 Glows, and dies. If pride, revenge, or hope of gain^ 
 Prompted me ever to o'erleap my nature. 
 To speak as though I car'd not for the world. 
 Or strike a blow perchance, the next moment 
 Saw the flame extinguish^, aftd beheld 
 The timid creature nature made of me. 
 
 Licin. Pshaw I this is a schoolboy's prattle. Go to, 
 You wrong yourself ; or else, like a vain girl, 
 That cunningly denies her charms, to court 
 A compliment, so you declare yourself 
 A very coward, to hear me praise you 
 
Scene t] CAMILLUS. 51 
 
 For a gallant man. Come, we will abroad. 
 
 Luc. Not now ; go you, I'll follow presently ; 
 I have business to transact at home 
 That will awhile detain me. 
 
 Licin. Use despatch— 
 
 I shall expect you presently, so farewell. [Exiti 
 
 Luc. I am a weary of these clamours now, 
 But I plung'd heedlessly into the current, 
 And still it bears me on, perchance to ruin. 
 Ha ! what noise is that ? I do not like that voice- 
 Without there ! bar the entrance ! 
 
 Camillus, (without.) Down, base slave ! 
 I will not be denied — give way, I say, 
 Or, by the gods ! I'll strike thee to the earth ! 
 
 [Rushes in6 
 Ha ! there he stands, the lord of this proud mansion ! 
 Who would have barr'd his gates against Camillus. 
 Come, sir, where is she ? 
 
 Luc. I know not what you mean. 
 
 Whom do you seek ? why thus invade my dwelling ? 
 
 Camillus. My daughter, sir ; where is my Camilla 1 
 Thou can'st not say, thou know'st not where she is ; 
 For I have proof, sure proof, that she was here : 
 Old Palo told me thou hadst rescued her. 
 Go, bring her hither — quickly, quickly, sir — 
 'Tis very long since I have seen my child. 
 Why dost thou linger ? Apulcus, mark : 
 My nature is not rough, but thou hadst better 
 Dally with a lion, than trifle with 
 The feelings of a father. 
 
 Luc. She is not here. 
 
 Camillus. Not here ? where is she then conceal'd T 
 Thou liest, slave ; she is beneath this roof, 
 And thou wouldst rob the father of his child, 
 The husband of his wife. 
 
 Luc. Hear me, Camillus : 
 
 True it is, that from a Gaul's ferocious grasp 
 I rescu'd fair Camilla, and for a time 
 She was indeed the inmate of my dwelling ; , 
 But at length, despising my protection, 
 She fled, and 
 
 Camillus. 'Tis a paltry subterfuge. 
 
52 CAMILLUS. [ActV. 
 
 If it be true, beware, Apuleus ; 
 
 For thou hast done her wrong, and she has fled 
 
 In fear of thee. But it is false, I know. 
 
 Thou wouldst deny her to me, ha ! thou shalt not ; 
 
 Bring me to her at once — at once, I say. 
 
 Luc. I tell you truly that she is not here. 
 
 Camillus. Then sbalt thou go with me in search of her ; 
 And thou shalt find her, or beware my wrath. 
 Come, follow — nay, do not pause. I have said — 
 Didst thou not hear me ? said, that thou shouldst go. 
 
 Luc. It is in vain ; I know not where she is. 
 
 Catnillus. Ha ! wouldst thou parley, or refuse me, sir ? 
 Art thou a savage, that thou wouldst not aid 
 An anxious father to regain his child ? 
 I will compel thee then — come, sir, come. 
 
 [Drags Apulecs off wildly. 
 
 SCENE II. — A Street. Enter Lucius Apulkus, 
 hastily. 
 
 Luc. 1 have escap'd him, and I thank the gods ; 
 He comes not in pursuit. Ha I here is one 
 That I would fain avoid. It is too late ; 
 I will venture, ne'ertheless, to pass him. 
 
 [Attempts to pass as Cominius enters, who detains 
 him. 
 
 Pan. Hold, sir, thou shalt not pass till I am satisfied. 
 Where is Camilla ? 
 
 Luc. Prithee, Cominius, 
 
 Detain me not ; I know not where she is ; 
 'Neath thy protection she was left, not mine, 
 And thou, her husband, left her, when the foe 
 Invested Rome. Go to Camillus, 
 Who, like a madman, roams through every street, 
 Seeking the lost one ; answer thou to him, 
 And do not question me — let me pass on. 
 
 Pon. Base hypocrite ! thou wouldst evade all ques- 
 tion. 
 If thou conceal'st her from me, knowing well 
 Where now she is, or if thou'st done her wrong, 
 I'll strangle thee — by yon broad heav'n, I will I 
 
 Luc. Have I escap'd the fury of one madman, 
 To perish by another ? By great Jove I 
 
Scene III.] CAMILLUS, 53 
 
 '"■■'- y i»i 
 
 I know not whither slie has fled. 
 
 Pon. Ha ! she has fled. 
 
 Then hast thou seen her — she was in thy charge. 
 Have a care, Apuleus — I doubt you mucli ; 
 I do, indeed ; a damning dark suspicion 
 Fills my mind, with thoughts I would not name. 
 
 Luc. Hold, Cominius, torture not thyself, 
 With wild suspicions that assail her honour. 
 
 Po«. .Her honour! could breath of thine cloud hea- 
 ven's glory ? 
 And she's the type of all that's chaste in heaven. 
 No, 'tis thee I doubt, and not my gentle wife — 
 She fled from thee, and she is spotless still. 
 But why she fled ? thou durst not tell me, sir. 
 I wrong my love in parleying with thee thus. 
 Hence ! we shall meet again, and then — beware. [Exit. 
 
 Luc. I could have tortured him, but that I feared 
 'Twould goad him, even unto madness. 
 'I could have added fuel to suspicion, 
 And fed the greedy monster jealousy. 
 Now to Licinius— what ! 77iore alarms. 
 
 Enter Flavius and others. 
 Speak, Citizens, why this terror? a new foe ? 
 
 Flav. Ay, one nor force nor valour can repel. 
 Hence, for your life ; the atmosphere is poisoned ; 
 A fell distemper hath broke out in Rome, 
 And here the pestilence most fiercely rages. 
 
 Luc. Unhappy city ! — hence ! away, away. [Exeuntt 
 
 SCENE III.— The Ruins of the Dwelling o/Camillus. 
 Camilla discovered, seated on the fragment of a pillar^ 
 
 Camilla. Why come they not ? I long have tarried, 
 And still they are not here. 'Tis very cold, 
 And I'm so lone amid this dreariness. 
 It seems as if I were but one on earth. 
 My doves arc dead ! my pretty innocents, 
 That knew so well my voice and very step, 
 That on my shoulder flew so happily, 
 Or nestled in my bosom with delight. 
 All that I loved have gone : even the flowers 
 
54 CAMILLUS. [ActV. 
 
 That adorned my garden, the evening galo 
 Has coldly breathed upon and blighted, 
 As sorrow blights the sunny hopes of life. 
 
 [Rises and comes forward. 
 I cannot bear this loneliness — 'tis madd'ning ! 
 My brain is burning, yet I am so cold — 
 My heart is turned to ice — mine eyes are dim — 
 Strange sounds are in mine ears. — Ha ! I am call'd — 
 Apuleus calls ; I'll not obey his voice. 
 Where is my father? where Cominius? 
 Why is it they come not to save me from him ? 
 Ha ! he comes. He shall not find me — I will fly 
 More swiftly than the bird, which through the air 
 Some ravenous kite pursues — away, away. 
 
 [Disappears among the ruins. 
 
 Enter Camillus. 
 Camillus. This is my only hope ; among the ruins 
 Of her early home, perchance I'll find my child. 
 What desolation's here ! my noble mansion. 
 Wherein my father first drew life's warm breath, 
 Raz'd by barbarian hands, down to the earth ! 
 But my daughter ! answer, my gentle one ! 
 It is thy father calls thee, Camilla ! 
 
 Enter Camilla, her hair dishevelled and wildly adorned 
 
 with flowers, a laurel loreath in her hand. 
 'Tis she! Oh, all ye gods! how changed! Camilla! 
 
 Camilla. Hush ! 'twas not Apuleus who then called. 
 Who was it ! I should know that voice methinks. 
 Was't thou, old man ? how should'st thou know my 
 Thou com'st not from Apuleus, dost thou ? [name ? 
 
 Camillus. Camilla, dost thou not know thy father? 
 
 Camilla. My father ? they said he was in Ardea — 
 That Cominius went to bring him hither. 
 To drive the Gauls from Rome. I wove this crown 
 From the old laurel tree that shades my garden, 
 To place upon the warrior exile's brow. 
 When he returns. Hast thou seen my father ? 
 Why comes he not ? 
 
 Camillus. Look on me, my daughter ; 
 
 Look on this scarred brow, these toil-worn features ; 
 
Scene III.] CAMILLUS. 55 
 
 Listen to the broken-hearted voice, that calls 
 Camilla ! dost thou not know me, dearest ? 
 
 [Camilla, who has appi-oached him, and hid her 
 hand on his shoulder, looks up earnestly in his 
 face, recognises him, and throws herself in his 
 arms. 
 
 Camilla. My father ! 
 
 Camillus. She knows me — she calls me father; 
 
 I thank the gods ! come to thy parent soil, 
 My flower of love, warm with affection ; 
 'Twill revive thee, sweet. 
 
 Camilla. O, I could so laugh ! 
 
 Thou shalt laugh with me at Apuleus. 
 He cannot tear me from thy arms, my father! 
 
 Camillus. No, my girl, no ; he first shall t<>ar my heart. 
 Curse him, ye gods, that rule the universe ! [out ! 
 
 I call upon him thy eternal curse ! 
 May it cling to him, while on earth he lives, 
 Degraded and despised by all mankind ! 
 No joys to cheer existence ! make his heart, 
 A blasted soil, to which no hope gives wairmth I 
 Blight him to its core, as he has blighted 
 The flowers of reason here ! 
 
 Camilla. My father ! 
 
 Dost thou not hear him ? hark i he calls r ne. 
 Where is Cominius ? call him to thy aid, 
 Or they will force me from thy arms again . 
 
 Camillus. No, my child, they dare no L ; thou hast 
 nought to fear, 
 A legion could not tear thee from my arms. 
 Come, this is no place for thee. 
 
 Camilla. No, my garden — 
 
 Come, I will show it to you ; the rank gras 3 
 Has grown among my pretty smiling flowe rs ; 
 Yet there's one spot, where there is not a • weed — 
 'Tis where my mother's buried. 
 
 Camillus, {greatly agitated.) My child ! 
 
 Camilla. Ye3, you must see it, father ! the rose-tree 
 You gave me on my birth-day stands nig h it ; 
 But it is dead, and not a rose is left ; 
 Yet around it my violets are growing, 
 Though the dew upon them makes then 1 appear 
 
56 CAMILLUS. [Act V. 
 
 — «-^-^ — '-■ . 
 
 As though they hod been weeping. There's one lily, 
 
 One pwre, white, modest lily, but 'tis drooping, 
 
 And I fear, 'tis dying, like my roses. 
 
 O, I so love that spot I if I knew the hour, 
 
 When from this world 'twould please the gods to call 
 
 Thithoj: would I go, and lay me down and die. [mey 
 
 Caniillus. Talk not thus, Camilla ; come with me ; 
 Let thy old father lead thee from this place, 
 Where desolation fills thy shattered mmd 
 With glocmy images of death — come, come. 
 
 Camill(t\. First to the garden — one last look, father ! 
 One long, last look, upon my mother's grave, 
 And then I'll go with thee for ever. Come. [Exeuntt 
 
 Enter .Fontus Cominius and Lucius Apuleus. 
 
 Pon. Thoi|i shalt not 'scape me now ; we'll roam to- 
 g( ither 
 Through the deserted streets, and cry, "Camilla!" 
 We'll shrink i^ot from the pestilence, which drives 
 Even the motj 'ler from her dying babe ; 
 But we will gE ze on each unburied corse^ 
 And trace the livid lineaments of death, 
 Until perchanc e among the tombless victims^ 
 The hfeless fox m of her I love I'll find. 
 
 L71C. Horro r! 
 
 Pon. Wl here are we ? I should know these ruins- 
 
 Here once tlie mansion of Camillus stood ; 
 Perchance sihf ;'s here — Camilla ! love ! my wife! 
 We'll feeek h eir in these desolated halls. 
 Come, Apule as — nay, struggle not, sir ; 
 Anxiety has \ made me almost wild ; 
 Thou shalt m it leave me until she is found, 
 Or I have had ' revenge. 
 
 Luc. Ha! dost thou threaten? 
 
 Pon. Nay, I. lot thy life, Apuleus, not thy life. 
 Aid me to find her ; why should'st thou refuse ? 
 'Twas thou con ipelled her flight, and if indeed 
 She's lost to mc 1 , why thou must answer for it. 
 
 Luc. Permit 1. \ ue to depart ; I cannot aid you. 
 Would to heaver, >» thou could'st find Camilla. 
 
 Pon. Is such ti hy honest wish ? then follow me. 
 Come, we are \o6\ ng time — away, away. [Exeuntt 
 
Scene IV.] CAMILLUS. 57 
 
 Enter Flavius, Marcus Ceditus, and others. 
 
 Mar. Rages the pestilence so fiercely then ? 
 
 Flav. In every section of the city, sir, 
 Despair and death now grimly walk abroad. 
 Man avoids man ; even the dying wretch 
 Who craves for drink, to cool his fevered lips, 
 Receives no succour, and he dies unheeded. 
 The streets are sepulchres ; all nature's changed ; 
 Infants draw poison from their mother's breast; 
 All ties are broken ; child deserts parent. 
 Parent abandons child. 
 
 Mar. Ah I hapless Rome ! 
 
 What make ye here ? why linger in the city ? 
 
 Flav. Here, 'tis said, the atmosphere is purer, 
 And hither we have come to seek a refuge 
 From the fell destroyer, trusting, too, to find 
 Among these ruins, our loved Camillus. 
 
 Mar. Where is the hero ? 
 
 Flav. When last I saw him, 
 
 With an anxious heart, bowed down with grief, 
 He sought his child, the wife of young Cominius. 
 Methought I saw but now a form glide by ; 
 Perchance 'tis he — follow, good citizens. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. — The dilapidated Gardens of Camillus. 
 A plain marble Monument, at the foot of which Camil- 
 Lus is discovered kneeling, with Camilla, dead, in his 
 arms. 
 
 Camillus. Dead ! my darling one ! my fair daughter, 
 She whom I loved ; so young and beautiful ! [dead ! 
 
 Upon this breast, which oft has pillowed her, 
 In gentle, holy sleep has sunk to rest, 
 For ever — ay, for ever ! 
 
 Well, what is life ? 
 To drain the cn.p, that is presented to us. 
 Or taste the food, daily before us placed, 
 Ne'er constituted life, as life should be. 
 To live, we must be useful, and to be useful. 
 We must possess affection, friends, and hopes, 
 To move us on to this same usefulness. 
 
58 CAMILLUS. [Act V. 
 
 But none of these have I — I am a lone one 
 On this peopled earth — a blighted being, 
 With a broken heart — old, hapless, useless ; 
 I now am in the sear — my age is reft 
 Of all that rendered life to me a blessing. 
 I feel my hour is coming ; the coldness here, 
 
 [Laying his hand on his heart. 
 Tells that death's icy hand is on me now. 
 The atmosphere is dense ; my breath grows short ; 
 My brain's confused ; oh ! I'm sick at heart ! 
 
 [Lays the body of Camilla near the monument, 
 There, my child, sleep by thy mother — I'll watch thee ; 
 The dying shall watch the dead. Gently — who comes ? 
 
 Enter Pontus Cominius, Flavius, and the Citizens, with 
 whom Lucius Apuleus has mingled. 
 
 Ha! Cominius ! look, look here, my son. 
 'Tis she 1 I found her, Cominius, found her 
 A wandering maniac ! she died upon my breast. 
 Look, look, what was once thy wife. 
 
 Pan. {bending over the body.) Eternal gods ! Camilla I 
 ah! Camilla! 
 Wilt thou not look on me ? wilt thou not speak 
 One word, one little word, to bless me, love? 
 She hears me not — she ne'er will speak again. 
 
 Camillus. Nay, never weep ; behold, I do not weep^ 
 I, that shed tears to bid farewell to Rome, 
 Shed not a tear, when I beheld my child, 
 Fade from this earth, for ever. 
 
 Pon. To lose her thus ! 
 
 Not to be nigh to hear her parting blessing ; 
 Thus found, when lost for ever ! 
 
 Camillus. Arouse thee, man ! 
 
 Where is he ? where the wretch who drove her forth 
 To breathe a pestilential atmosphere ? 
 Approach me not, Cominius ; behold 
 These livid spots, the poison's in my blood. 
 Fly for your life ! 
 
 Have ye come, citizens, 
 To join again the standard of Camillus ? 
 Stop, I'll not quit the field— I'll still fight on ; 
 
 \ 
 
Scene IV.] CAMILLUS. 59 
 
 First pluck this jav'lin from my bleeding wound ; 
 Now then — charge ! charge ! ha ! bravely done, my 
 friends ! 
 
 Pon. Nay, Camillus— I do entreat ye, friends, 
 Bear with him. 
 
 Camillus. Off, off! I tell ye I am strong ; 
 This wound is nought. Ha ! we have traitors here ! 
 In Roman ranks a traitor ! O I shame I shame ! 
 Will ye not drive him forth ? there he stands. 
 This is he. 
 
 [Snatching a sword, rushing on Apuleus, and 
 dragging him forward. 
 
 Luc. Help ! save me from this madman, 
 Or I'm lost ! 
 
 Camillus. Behold the sword of Justice! 
 I am her minister, and use it thus. [Stabs Apuleus, 
 
 I have obeyed the mandate of the gods ! 
 
 [Falls, overcome, by the body 0/ Camilla. 
 
 Luc. 'Twas to the heart! I do entreat your prayers. 
 And to the gods divine, commend my soul. [Dies. 
 
 Camillus, {partially raising himself.) Ye all lool^ 
 strangely on me. Look your last. 
 The blood of life runs coldly in these veins. 
 Thy hand, Cominius — nay, give it not ; 
 I had forgot, there's poison in my touch. 
 All forms grow dim before me ! one is bright ! 
 It is my daughter's — see, she beckons me — 
 Her voice is in mine ears. Yes, Camilla, 
 I am coming to join thee, my fair child, 
 For ever — yes, for ever — for ever. 
 
 [Falls dead on the body of Camilla. 
 
 THE~END, 
 
LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
 EPII 
 
 WRITTEN BY J. A. SHEA, E 
 
 016 
 
 Admirers of the histrionic ert, 
 
 You ot'the lofty soul and tropic heart ; 
 
 To-night you've setn capricious fortune bear 
 
 Camillus througli his bright but sad career. 
 
 His brow now circled with the laurel'ii leaf, 
 
 Rome's conquering leader, and her people's chief. 
 
 Now by a fiend-born enmity pursued, 
 
 Now wandering in self-exiled solitude ; 
 
 Now, when his penitential country calls, 
 
 Driving the Goth invader from her walls ; 
 
 Now glad with hope ; now phrenzied with despair ; 
 
 Fierce as a lion bounding from his lair. 
 
 Beholding now the pestilential stain, 
 
 Plague in his breast, and madness in his brain ; 
 
 And to his country's fortunes faithful still, 
 
 Falling beneath an avalanche of ill. 
 
 With what illustrious sorrow did that sire 
 
 Behold the daughter of his heart expire; 
 
 That angel who, through all her star-like life, 
 
 Loved as a di-.ughter, worshipped as a wife ; 
 
 Pursued her brilliant path with Roman pride, 
 
 A'^irtuo her shield, and dignity her guide. 
 
 And oh ! what pride to see that dying dove 
 
 Bless with her latest sigh her father's love. 
 
 And sinless, flying that detiling slave, 
 
 E.xpire upon liur buried mother's grave. 
 
 This lesson, friends, with Roman greatness fraught, 
 
 Is by a young and native tutor taught. 
 
 In our Camillus you behold a heart. 
 
 Noble as well by nature as by art. 
 
 Yes, yes ! in Pearson did you not behold, 
 
 The patriot and the Roman lightning souled ? 
 
 In the devoted daughter, you have one, 
 
 Upon whose birth this classic city shone. 
 
 Pride of my heart ! unmingled and alone ! 
 
 The peet and the artists all your own ! 
 
 In earlier days, when the barbarian hordo 
 
 Showered round Athenia's walls with lance and swoid- 
 
 Minerva stood before their startled sight. 
 
 And struck them with her eye's electric light. 
 
 Will not Columbia, too, her own defend ; 
 
 Her Athens, Philadelpbia— yoa her friend? 
 
 When foreign foes your liberties assailed. 
 
 You armed, met, marched, bled, battled, and prevailed. 
 
 Not less imperatively do we now, 
 
 Request your laurels for a native's brow. 
 
 Then were you marshalled for your native land — 
 
 To-night you're not a less efficient band ; 
 
 By /reedom's banners you were then combinud — 
 
 To-night you join the banners of the mind.