exalted an interest, to the annals of the ancient republics.
The tragedy opens with the soliloquy of Caius Gracchus, who is returned in secret to Rome, after having been employed in rebuilding Carthage, which Scipio had utterly demolished.
Caius, in Rome behold thyself! the night
Hath spread her favouring shadows o'er thy path;
And thou, be strong, my Country! for thy son,
Gracchus, is with thee! All is hush'd around,
And in deep slumber, from the cares of day.
The worn Plebeians rest. Oh! good, and true,
And only Romans! your repose is sweet,
For toil hath given it zest; 'tis calm and pure,
For no remorse hath troubled it. Meanwhile,
My brother's murderers, the Patricians, hold
Inebriate vigils o'er their festal hoards,
Or in dark midnight-councils, sentence me
To death, and Rome to chains. They little deem
Of the unlook'd for and tremendous foe,
So near at hand!—It is enough. I tread
In safety my paternal threshold.—Yes!
This is my own! Oh! mother! Oh my wife!
My child!—I come to dry your tears. I come
Strengthened by three dread Furies. One is Wrath,
Fir'd by my Country's wrongs; and one deep Love,
For those, my bosom's inmates; and the third—
Vengeance, fierce Vengeance, for a brother's blood!
His soliloquy is interrupted by the entrance of Fulvius, his friend, with whose profligate character, and unprincipled designs, he is represented as unacquainted. From the opening speech made by Fulvius (before he is aware of the presence of Caius) to the slave by whom he is attended, it appears that he is just returned from the perpetration of some crime, the nature of which is not disclosed until the second act. The suspicions of Caius are, however, awakened, by the obscure allusions to some act of signal, but secret vengeance, which Fulvius throws out in the course of the ensuing discussion.
Ful. This is no time for grief and feeble tears,
But for high deeds.
