Arsaces: Azema Was not to blame; she could not be the cause Of sorrow or distress; one look from her Would soothe the wrath of gods: but say, my friend, Sémiramis is still a sovereign here, Her heart is not forever sunk in grief?

Mitranes: No: when her noble mind shakes off the burden, Resumes its strength, and shines in native lustre, Then we behold in her exalted soul Powers that excel whatever flattery’s self Hath e’er bestowed on kings; but when she sinks Beneath this dreadful malady, loose flow The reins of empire, dropping from her hand; Then the proud satrap, fiery Assur, guides The helm and makes the nations groan beneath him: The fatal secret never yet hath reached The walls of Babylon: abroad we still Are envied, but, alas! we mourn at home.

Arsaces: What lessons of instruction to weak mortals, When happiness is mingled thus with woe! I, too, am wretched, thus deprived of him Whose piercing wisdom best could give me council, And lead me through the mazes of a court. O I have cause to weep: without a father, Left as I am to all the dangerous passions Of heedless youth, without a friendly guide, What rocks encompass and what shoals affright me!

Mitranes: I weep with thee the loss of him we loved, The good old man; Phradates was my friend; Ninus esteemed and gave to him the care Of Ninias, his dear son, our country’s hope: But O! one fatal day destroyed them both, Father and son: to voluntary exile Devoted, long he lived: his banishment Was fortunate to thee, and made thee great: Close by his side, in honor’s glorious field, Arsaces fought, and conquered for his country: Now, ranked with princes, thy exalted virtue Claims its reward by merit all thy own.

Arsaces: I know not what may be my portion here: Perhaps, distinguished on Arbazan’s plains With fair success, my name is not unknown: On Oxus’ banks to great Sémiramis, When vanquished nations paid the homage due, From her triumphant cars she dropped a ray Of her own glory on Arsaces’ head: But oft the soldier, honored in the field, In courts neglected lies, and is forgotten. My father told me in his dying hour The fortune of Arsaces here depended Upon the common cause; then gave to me These precious relics, which from every eye He had preserved: I must deliver them To the high priest, for he alone can judge, And know their value: I must talk with him In secret, touching my own fate, for he Can best conduct me to Sémiramis.