For ling'ring here so long—another pang
And all the world, adieu—oh! adieu!—
Gotarzes. Oh!
Fix me, heav'n, immoveable, a statue,
And free me from o'erwhelming tides of grief.
Barzaphernes. Oh! my lov'd Prince, I soon shall follow thee;
Thy laurel'd glories[,] whither are they fled?—
Would I had died before this fatal day!—
Triumphant garlands pride my soul no more,
No more the lofty voice of war can charm—
And why then am I here? Thus then—
Gotarzes. Ah! hold,
Nor rashly urge the blow—think of me, and
Live—My heart is wrung with streaming anguish,
Tore with the smarting pangs of woe, yet, will I
Dare to live, and stem misfortune's billows.
Live then, and be the guardian of my youth,
And lead me on thro' virtue's rugged path.
Barzaphernes. O, glorious youth, thy words have rous'd the
Drooping genius of my soul; thus, let me
Clasp thee, in my aged arms; yes, I will live—
Live, to support thee in thy kingly rights,
And when thou 'rt firmly fix'd, my task's perform'd,
My honourable task—Then I 'll retire,
Petition gracious heav'n to bless my work,
And in the silent grave forget my cares.
Gotarzes. Now, to the Temple, let us onward move,
And strive t' appease the angry pow'rs above.
Fate yet may have some ills reserv'd in store,
Continu'd curses, to torment us more.
Tho', in their district, Monarchs rule alone,
Jove sways the mighty Monarch on his throne:
Nor can the shining honours which they wear,
Purchase one joy, or save them from one care.
FINIS
