Azema: But love claims his own, And will be heard in spite of all, Arsaces: His orders are not doubtful, or obscure. Love is my oracle, and that alone Shall be obeyed. Ninias, thou sayest, yet lives, Let him appear, and let Sémiramis Recall her plighted faith to him; let Ninus Rise from the tomb, to join the fatal knot Made in our infant years; let Ninias come, My king, thy master, and thy rival, fired With all the love which once Arsaces had For Azema, then see how I will slight His proffered vows; then shalt thou see me scorn The sceptre at my feet, and spurn a crown Which is my due: where is he now? What secret, What mystery veils him from us? Let him come; But know, nor Ninias, nor Sémiramis, No, nor the sacred spirit of his father Risen from the tomb, nor all the powers of nature Thrown in confusion, from my heart would wrest The image of my perjured dear Arsaces: Go, ask thy own, if it will dare to act As mine hath done. What are those dreadful crimes Which thou must expiate? if thou e’er shouldst break The sacred tie that binds us, if thou art false, I know no crime, no treachery like thy own. I see the sage interpreter of fate This way advancing, love will never plead Thy cause with heaven, if thou betrayest me: go, From Ninus’ hand receive thy doom; remember, Thy fate depends on heaven, and mine on thee. [Exit Azema, Arsace, Arsaces still is thine: stay, cruel maid:] How mingled is our happiness and woe! What strange events that contradict each other—

SCENE II.

Arsaces, Oroes, the Magi Attending.

Oroes: [To Arsaces.] Let us retire to yonder lonely walk; I see you are much moved: prepare yourself For strokes more dreadful. [To the magi.] Bring the royal wreath. [The magi bring the coffer.] This letter, and this sacred sword, to thee, Arsaces, I deliver.

Arsaces: Reverend father, Wilt thou not save me from the precipice That gapes before me? wilt thou not at length Uplift the veil, that from my eyes conceals My future fate?

Oroes: ’Twill be removed, my son; The hour is come, when in his dreary mansions, Ninus from thee expects a sacrifice That shall appease his angry spirit.

Arsaces: What Can Ninus ask, what sacrifice from me? Must I be his avenger, when his son Still lives? Let Ninias come; he is my king, And I will serve him.

Oroes: ’Tis his father’s will, Thou must obey him: an hour hence, Arsaces, Be at his tomb, armed with this sacred sword, And with this wreath adorned, which Ninus wore, And which thyself did bring to me.

Arsaces: The wreath Of Ninus!

Oroes: ’Tis his royal will that thus Thou shouldst appear, to offer up the blood That must be shed; the victim will be there: Strike thou, and leave the rest to him, and heaven.