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Scene one |
A prison.
Arbaces, in a melancholy posture. |
 Q 
Arbaces
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| [N. 20 - Arietta] | N
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ARBACES
Why is death for ever late,
so conclude a wretch's woe;
those who live in happy state,
feel too soon th' untimely blow.
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| (Enter Artaxerxes.) | <- Artaxerxes
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ARTAXERXES |
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ARBACES |
Gracious heaven, what's this I see!
Does royal Artaxerxes deign to visit
the wretch Arbaces, in this horrid gloom!
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ARTAXERXES |
Pity and friendship brought me here to save thee.
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ARBACES |
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ARTAXERXES |
Yes. That secret passage leads
to life and liberty; then quickly fly. ~
Remember Artaxerxes, and be happy.
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ARBACES |
Your pardon, sir, the world esteems me guilty ~
then let me die; your honour, sir, requires it.
Happy my exit, having once preferred
my sovereign's life, and now his spotless honour.
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ARTAXERXES |
Such noble sentiments can ne'er proceed
from guilty minds ~ beloved Arbaces, fly ~
as friend, I beg thee to preserve thyself;
but if that fails ~ as sovereign, I command thee.
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ARBACES |
In gratitude to thy exalted friendship,
I'll quit this scene of horror and despair.
But oh! Thus exiled, I shall only fly,
restless to tread the paths of misery.
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| [N. 21 - Air] | N
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Water parted from the sea,
may increase the river's tide;
to the bubbling fount may flee,
or thro' fertile valley's glide:
yet in search of lost repose,
doom'd like me, forlorn to roam,
still it murmurs as it flows,
till it reach its native home.
(Exit.)
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Arbaces ->
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Scene two |
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ARTAXERXES |
That front, secure in conscious innocence,
defies the charge of guilt: affliction's veil
can never quite eclipse the inward light,
that from a noble soul darts forth its rays.
When in the countenance the heart is seen.
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| [N. 22 - Air] | N
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Tho' oft a cloud, with envious shade,
conceals the face of day,
the sun is fill in flames array'd,
his beams immortal, not decay'd:
soon the gloomy veil retires;
he darts each powerful ray,
and light and heat expires.
(Exit.)
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 (♦)
(♦)
Artaxerxes ->
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Scene three |
Enter Artabanes, with a train of conspirators. |
<- Artabanes, Conspirators
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ARTABANES |
My son, Arbaces ~ Where art thou retired? ~
Sure he should hear my voice ~ what ho ~ Arbaces!
O heaven! ~ guards, watch the entrance of the prison,
till I can find my son.
(Exit.)
| Artabanes ->
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| (Enter Rimenes.) | <- Rimenes
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RIMENES |
Not yet arrived! ~
Sir, Artabanes!
(Exit.)
| Rimenes ->
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| (Re-enter Artabanes.) | <- Artabanes
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ARTABANES |
O unhappy father!
My son I seek in vain ~ my blood grows chill;
I fear ~ I doubt ~ perhaps in ~
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| (Re-enter Rimenes.) | <- Rimenes
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RIMENES |
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ARTABANES |
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RIMENES |
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ARTABANES |
O cruel gods! th'unfortunate has perish'd.
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RIMENES |
Suspicion always borders on extreame;
and might not Artaxerxes or Mandane,
the friend or lover, have procured his flight?
What strange delay is this! ~ Let's to our task;
behold the way that leads us to the palace.
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ARTABANES |
And what great enterprise shall I accomplish,
my son being lost?
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RIMENES |
What, have you then, for nought,
secured the royal guards, and I, the troops?
Determine, sir; this instant, Artaxerxes
prepares to take the coronation oath;
the sacred cup is by your order poison'd:
and shall we then so basely ~
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ARTABANES |
O my friend!
Arbaces lost, for whom should I engage?
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RIMENES |
Thy son Arbaces from thy hand expects
the throne, if living; and if dead, revenge.
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ARTABANES |
That, that alone recalls my fleeting spirit;
lead on, kind friend; my fate depends on thee.
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RIMENES |
I'll lead thee on to joyful victory.
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| [N. 23 - Air] | N
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O let the danger of a son
excite vindictive ire;
the prospect of a kingdom won,
should light ambition's fire.
To wounded minds, revenge is balm;
with vigour they engage,
and sacrifice a pleasing calm,
to a more pleasing rage.
(Exit.)
| Rimenes ->
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Scene four |
Artabanes solus. |
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| Recitative accompanied | |
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Ye adverse gods! y'ave found the only way
to quell my vast ambition; perplexing doubt,
whether my son yet lives, awakens fear;
and the dire image of despair starts up,
unnerves my arm, and checks my daring soul.
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| [N. 24 - Air] | N
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O much loved son, if death
has stolen thy vital breath,
I'll share thy hapless fate;
but ere the dagger drinks my blood,
a murder'd king, at Lethe's flood,
the tidings shall relate.
Bid Charon cease from toil,
and rest upon his oar,
'till I attain the happy soil,
where we shall part no more.
(Exit.)
| Artabanes ->
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Scene five |
Mandane's apartment.
Enter Mandane and Semira. |
Q
<- Mandane, Semira
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MANDANE |
Perhaps the king released Arbaces.
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SEMIRA |
No ~ rather destroyed him,
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MANDANE |
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SEMIRA |
'Tis known to all;
in secret he resigned his wretched life.
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MANDANE |
O hapless youth! O tidings worse than death!
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SEMIRA |
I hope your vengeance now is satisfyed ~
or would you other victims? ~ speak.
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MANDANE |
I cannot;
light cares are ever sosten'd by complaint;
but such as mine, arrest the power of speech.
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SEMIRA |
Ne'er lived a heart more lost to sense of pity.
All eyes in Persia wail his hapless fate;
but yours are dry.
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MANDANE |
The deeper my affliction:
small is the grief that vents itfelf in tears.
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SEMIRA |
Go, if not satisfy'd, and feast your eyes
upon the slaughter'd spoils of my dear brother;
with secret joy, number his bloody wounds.
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MANDANE |
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SEMIRA |
Never; while thou liv'st,
I'll haunt thee like a spirit, and my wrongs
shall dash thy hopes with bitterness and woe.
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MANDANE |
You think me cruel, and denounce revenge. ~
Ah! how have I deserved thy enmity?
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| [N. 25 - Air] | N
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Let not rage, thy bosom firing,
pity's softer claim remove;
spare a heart that's just expiring,
forced by duty, rack'd by love.
Each ungentle thought suspending,
judge of mine, by thy soft breast;
nor with rancour never ending,
heap fresh sorrows on th' oppress'd.
Let not rage thy bosom firing,
pity's softer claim remove;
spare a heart that's just expiring,
forced by duty, rack'd by love.
Heaven, that every joy has crost,
ne'er my wretched state can mend;
I, alas! at once have lost,
father, brother, lover, friend.
(Exit.)
| Mandane ->
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Scene six |
Semira sola. |
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What have I done! alas, I vainly thought,
div'iding grief, to lessen my affliction;
these cruel insults, vented on Mandane,
have pierced her breast, and not relieved my own.
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| [N. 26 - Air] | N
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'Tis not true, that in our grief,
others, weeping in distress,
to our troubles bring relief,
making each misfortune less.
No, when sore oppress'd by fate,
better 'tis to sigh alone,
than support a double weight,
other's sorrows, and ouwn.
(Exit.)
| Semira ->
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Scene seven |
Enter Arbaces. |
<- Arbaces
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ARBACES |
Nor here my searching eyes can find Mandane.
Fain would my heart, before external exile,
indulge its fondness with a last adieu.
Perhaps, this way ~ but whither do I wander?
Rash man ~ or heavenly pow'rs behold her there!
My spirits fail me ~ yet I'll speak ~ Mandane!
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| (Enter Mandane.) | <- Mandane
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MANDANE |
Ye powers! Arbaces! and at liberty!
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ARBACES |
A friendly hand unlock'd my cruel fetters.
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MANDANE |
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ARBACES |
How can I part, for ever, from such beauty?
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MANDANE |
Perfidious traitor! what wouldst thou with me?
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ARBACES |
Am I no longer dear to my Mandane?
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MANDANE |
Thou art become the object of my hate.
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ARBACES |
Barbarous maid! my death shall end thy scorn.
I fly to meet my fate ~ adieu ~ for ever.
(Going.)
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MANDANE |
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ARBACES |
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MANDANE |
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ARBACES |
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MANDANE |
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ARBACES |
What means my princess? ~ this returning pity ~
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MANDANE |
Does not arise from love ~ but fly ~ and live.
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| [N. 27 - Duetto] | N
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ARBACES |
For thee I live, my dearest;
but if I meet disdain,
for thee, my dear, I'll die.
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MANDANE |
How lovely thou appearest,
my blushes will explain.
I can no more reply.
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ARBACES |
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MANDANE |
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ARBACES |
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MANDANE |
Divide not thus my heart:
leave me ~ in pity go.
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ARBACES, MANDANE
Ye gods that torture so,
some timely respite send;
when will your rigour end?
(Exeunt, different ways.)
| Arbaces, Mandane ->
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Scene eight |
A Temple, and throne, with a crown and scepter; the image of the sun, with a lighted altar.
Artaxerxes, Artabanes, Nobles, etc. |
Q
Artaxerxes, Artabanes, Nobles, Guards
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ARTAXERXES |
To you, my people, much beloved, I offer
myself, not less a father, than a king:
your native rights, your customs, and your laws,
with jealous care I ever will maintain,
and raise up treasure in my people's hearts.
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ARTABANES |
Here is the sacred cup ~
your solemn oath must bind the lasting tye;
fulfil th'accustom'd rites ~ (aside) and drink thy death.
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| Recitative accompanied | |
ARTAXERXES |
Resplendent god, by whom sweet April blooms,
thou genial beam, that warms us and enlightens,
look awful down; and if my treacherous lips
have utter'd falshood, may this wholesome draught
change, as it passes, into deadly poison.
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Scene nine |
Enter Semira hastily. |
<- Semira
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SEMIRA |
Fly quick, my liege; thousands of rebel troops
surround the palace, by Rimenes led;
your death is plotted, and your guards corrupted.
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ARTAXERXES |
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ARTABANES |
What fear you, sir? my single presence
shall quell this tumult, and protect my king.
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ARTAXERXES |
Away, my friend, to victory or death.
(Going.)
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Scene ten |
Enter Mandane. |
<- Mandane
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MANDANE |
Hold, brother, the rebellious crew are fled.
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ARTAXERXES |
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MANDANE |
Led by false Rimenes,
they forced the gates, and enter'd, when Arbaces
departing to eternal banishiment,
his single breast opposed, and swore to die
in his great master's cause: all dropp'd their arms,
except that daring rebel at their head
on him Arbaces, like a lion, flew,
clove thro' his helmet, flew him, and revenged thee.
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ARTAXERXES |
Where's my preserver ~ bring him to my arms!
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| (Exeunt officers, with Guards.) | Nobles, Guards ->
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ARTAXERXES |
He murder Xerxes! Impious supposition!
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MANDANE |
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SEMIRA |
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MANDANE |
Valour suppress'd, now springs again to glory.
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| [N. 28 - Air] | N
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The soldier, tired of war's alarms,
forswears the clang of hostile arms,
and scorns the spear and shield:
but if the brazen trumpet sound,
he burns with conquest to be crown'd,
and dares again the field.
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Scene, the last |
Enter Artabanes and Arbaces. |
<- Artababanes, Arbaces
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ARBACES |
Behold, my king, Arbaces at thy feet.
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ARTAXERXES |
O still my friend! come to my grateful breast.
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MANDANE |
Yet that my brother may with better grace
reward this deed, and satisfy the people,
some reason give us for the bloody sword,
thy tim'rous flight, and all that waked suspicion.
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ARBACES |
If deeds, not words, proclaim a loyal heart,
permit me to be silcnt ~ I am innocent.
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ARTAXERXES |
Confirm it with a solemn imprecation,
and of a truth, as Persia's law prescribes,
that vessel drain'd shall be the sacred pledge.
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ARBACES |
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ARTABANES |
O cruel gods! If my son drinks he dies!
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| Recitative accompanied | |
ARBACES |
Resplendent god, by whom sweet April blooms,
thou genial beam that warms us and enlightens!
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ARTABANES
(aside) |
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ARBACES |
If my treach'rous lips
have utter'd falshood, may this wholesome draught
change, as it passes, into ~
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ARTABANES |
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ARTAXERXES |
What fury urged thee to so vile a deed?
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ARTABANES |
Away, disguise, the draught was meant for thee;
but my paternal fondness has betrayed me.
I murder'd Xerxes; and, to gain the throne,
would have destroy'd thee too.
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ARTAXERXES |
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ARBACES |
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ARTAXERXES |
Mandane shall reward thy spotless virtue;
and thy fair sister shall partake our throne:
but for that traitor ~
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ARBACES |
I will die for him:
my blood is his, and shall attone his crimes.
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ARTAXERXES |
Thy loyalty and virtue, injured youth,
shall change his sentence into banishment:
make no reply ~ his exile is for life.
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MANDANE |
Sure heaven inspired the merciful decree;
Arbaces and Semira must approve it;
tho' for his crimes the father justly suffers,
his life is spared, that you, his guiltless children
may not be ever wretched in his death.
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| [N. 29 - Finale] | N
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CHORUS
Live to us, to empire live,
great augustus, long may'st thou
from the subject world receive,
laurel wreaths t'adorn thy brow.
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MANDANE, ARBACES |
Of his country, ever free,
there the royal father see!
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CHORUS |
To the patron of our laws,
pierce the air with loud applause.
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SEMIRA, ARTABANES |
Virtue in his soul resides;
in his truth the world confides.
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CHORUS |
To the patron of our laws,
pierce the air with loud applause.
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MANDANE, ARBACES |
Pity from the throne descending,
how the monarch it endears;
when with justice, mercy blending,
in the king a god appears!
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SEMIRA, ARTABANES |
Tyrants claim, with iron sceptre,
duty which our fears impart;
but our gentle kind protector,
monarch reigns o'er every heart.
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CHORUS
Live to us, to empire live!
Great augustus, long may'st thou,
from the fubject world receive
laurel wreaths t' adorn thy brow!
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| Finis. | |
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