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THE PRINCESS of ZANFARA; A DRAMATIC POEM.
[...]. ARATUS.
AM I NOT A MAN AND A BROTHER?
LONDON: Printed for Meſſ. WILKIE, St Paul's Church-Yard.
MDCCLXXXIX.
[]
TO THE SOCIETY, INSTITUTED IN THE YEAR 1787, FOR THE PURPOSE OF EFFECTING AN ABOLITION OF THE SLAVE TRADE, THIS SMALL TRIBUTE IS MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED,
BY The Editor.
PERSONS of the DRAMA.
[]- MANZARA, Prince of Caſſaena.
- JEROME, Governor of a Province in America.
- HORATIO,
- MARTINO,
- PEMBROKE, A Trader.
- ANTONIO, Supercargo in a Veſſel trading with Slaves.
- CALABAN, Commander of the Veſſel.
- ZANGAE, Freedman of JEROME.
- Counſellors of State.
- Slaves, Sailors and Attendants.
- JAQUEENA, Princeſs of Zanfara, who in Captivi⯑ty takes the Name of LAURA.
- TERESA, The Governor's Lady.
- AMELIA, The Governor's Daughter.
SCENE in AMERICA.
THE PRINCESS of ZANFARA.
[]ACT I.
The curtain drawing up, diſcovers LAURA the female ſlave ſitting by the ſide of a fountain in a Grove, adjoining to the Governor's Palace.
LAURA.
YE warbling ſongſters of the vocal grove,
Why waſte you thus your ſoothing melody?
Sweet bubbling fountains, wherefore mix your voice
With the ſoft murmurs of the ſighing breeze?
Were ye not given to charm the ear of peace,
The fair aſſociate of liberty?—
Theſe unpropitious regions claim you not!
Haſte to Zanfara, and the happy ſhades
That crown her river's banks and crowd her ſhores;
From whence you long, too long, have been eſtrang'd,
With your Jaqueena; whom alas! ſuch dark
And dire miſchance involves, that hitherto
Her weak and wandering hope no period ſees,
But in the arms of death!—
AMELIA
enters.
—I ſeek my maid
With anxious ſteps, and ſtill ſome ſolemn ſcene
Invites her melancholy ſtay, and owns
Her tears; ſhall not Amelia partake
Your woes, and with her love alleviate
The griefs that rend dear Laura's tender heart?
LAURA.
If kind Amelia was not made ſo fair,
If ſhe was not of Chriſtian principles,
I might be led to truſt her female heart
Poſſeſs'd compaſſion; but the frozen hue
[4]That nature plants upon her outward form,
And what preſcribes the maxims of her breaſt,
Make me at once to tremble and diſtruſt:
And poor Jaqueena lives without a friend!
AMELIA.
My Laura's ſweet benevolence of heart,
And the intelligence that forms her mind,
Should lift her far above ſuch prejudice:
Or fair or duſk the hue that climate gives,
The blood that warms the veins with ſtreams of life,
In both the ſame, with equal paſſion fires
The ſoul, with equal ardour in the ſacred cauſe
Of honour beats, and forms the heart for love.
LAURA.
There is ſuch ſoft deluſion in your words,
(And what we wiſh we readieſt believe)
I almoſt am perſuaded in my mind,
Amelia holds a ſiſter heart to mine.
But your ſtern deity ſtill looks unmov'd
On maſſacre and blood, on ſlavery
And woe, avenging not—alas! I ſink
Under the horror of his devotees.
AMELIA.
The time will come, my Laura, when you'll know
The wretches, who commit ſuch dreadful crimes,
Are not of the religion you accuſe.
LAURA.
Were they not Chriſtians that on Niger's flood,
On board their dreadful bark, receiv'd the loſt
Jaqueena? (for the name of Laura bears
The badge of ſlavery, and my reproach.)
Are they, not Chriſtians, who, in all this land,
Make the poor Africans perform the taſk
Of beaſts; not barely to ſuſtain the toil,
But to endure the torture; and with ſtripes,
With nakedneſs and hunger, to lie down,
Stall'd worſe than beaſts, to rankle in their ſores?
AMELIA.
This is too much, ſweet Laura; thus with tears,
See me lament my country's hapleſs crimes;
[5]And the vile prejudice which clogs the wheel
Of partial juſtice.—
LAURA.
—Can a ſlave then hope
For your humanity?—for tho' the blood
Is of one dye, without congenial ſuns
It ripens not, nor meliorates to love.
Yet will I not forget your bounteous gifts,
For Africans know not ingratitude!
I am a ſlave, not knowing bondage here,
But in detention from my native land;
For my kind miſtreſs, as Amelia kind,
Nor gives me chains nor ſtripes, nor wears a frown.
There are ſome Chriſtians of a milder ſoul,
And ſuch poor Laura happily protect;
For if Amelia calls me by that name,
Its terrors ceaſe, tho' it ſtill comprehends
The tenor of my fortune.—
AMELIA.
—Whilſt your mind
Seems thus impreſt with favourable thoughts,
And you confeſs Amelia's not ſevere,
Truſt to my ear the ſtory of your life,
And make me more your friend by ſorrowing more,
By mingling mutual griefs with Laura's tears.
LAURA.
A ſoothing melancholy ſtill ſucceeds
The repetition of each ſolemn tale,
Misfortune has to tell.—In ſilence, grief
Preys moſt upon the ſoul; from ſympathy,
From ſoft compaſſion of our ſorrowings,
A ſweet alleviation gently breathes.
Not of inferior race, my father rul'd
A province of the realm of Benin.—
Oft approbation ſhone upon his eye,
Oft fond affection fill'd my mother's looks,
Whilſt on their ſmiling progeny they gaz'd,
And call'd, and kiſs'd their daughter, now your ſlave.
AMELIA.
[6]Predicting, in the fondneſs of their hopes,
Propitious fortunes to their darling child.
LAURA.
Nor were their hopes mere ſhadows of the mind;
For with affection's tendereſt concern
My ſteps were follow'd, and my looks purſu'd;
They rul'd another's fate:—with breaſts of ice,
As barren as the ſnows they emulate,
You fair ones call ſuch truths mere vanity;
The great Manzaro kneel'd to win my heart:
What wretchedneſs is mine!—I lov'd the Prince,
Whom only death can to my love reſtore:
On his tremendous wing he'll bear me hence,
And to Zanfara waft this ſpirit ſafe,
Superior to the frauds of cruel men.
AMELIA.
Some better Iot, ſweet Laura, may betide.
LAURA.
Hope has departed hence, and left my ſoul
To follow after, when all earthly griefs
Are diſſipated by the hand of death.
It ſoothes the ſorrows of my wretched mind,
To grave the rock with piteous characters,
(Points to the rock.)
That move the fountain's never-ceaſing tears,
To weep for ever o'er Manzara's name;
Whilſt gentle ſpirits in the ſighing winds,
On the ſad ſculptures mourn, that memorize
My mother and my brothers.—
AMELIA
—What of them?
LAURA.
Within the foreſt's ſkirts our tents were pitch'd,
For more commodious hunting; far advanc'd
The men were on the chaſe; when we, who held
The little camp, were taken priſoners:
A horrid tribe of robbers, then in league
With Europeans, trading to our ſtates,
Had ſtolen upon our unſuſpicious guards.
AMELIA.
[7]Of what complexion, of what country born,
Were thoſe baſe violators of the land?
LAURA.
The cruel leaders were of Britiſh birth,
The reſt of Africa; but long poſſeſs'd
By the fell demons of Europa's ſhores,
They, to recruit the heart for wickedneſs,
Imbibe infernal furies in their drink,
From deepeſt hell by chymic magic rais'd,
That drive the brain to madneſs, and impel
The hand to deeds of darkneſs.—
AMELIA.
—What enſued?
LAURA.
Our men were bound in fetters, neck to neck,
And hand to hand, and we their woeful ſteps
Muſt needs purſue:—when, frantic with her grief,
My mother ſeiz'd a javelin for revenge,
And by her angry arm one chieftain fell:
But anger and reſiſtance were in vain!
She dy'd beneath a thouſand dreadful wounds;
Whilſt to her bleeding boſom, graſping cloſe,
In agonies of death, her youngeſt ſon,
A cruel lance transfix'd both breaſts at once;
And as the boy hung writhing on the ſhaft,
The wretches made diverſion of his pangs.
AMELIA.
O Britain! where's thy boaſted excellence?
Thy fame, that ſounds on every peopled ſhore?
Thy vaunted juriſprudence, and thy love
Of liberty?—
LAURA.
—I then conceiv'd no thought
Of what might follow, what ſhould be our fate;
But in immediate ſorrows my ſad mind
Was all abſorb'd.—We were receiv'd on board
A veſſel, crowded with a wretched race:
Deſcription finds no language to expreſs
The horrors of the voyage.—The hand of fate
[8]Releas'd a multitude!—within theſe arms
My other brother dy'd; and I'm forlorn!
AMELIA.
My ſoul is full of grief; and yet a ray
Of hope divine, like ſome prophetic light,
By influence of guardian angel given,
Takes hold upon my mind. —But we're obſerv'd;
You muſt avoid the perſon that draws near;
Retire, and ſpare your grief; the tale he brings
Would much increaſe your tears.—
Ex. Laura.
AMELIA
alone.
—I feel my heart
Renounce Antonio!—his hateful trade
Imbitters every thought of intercourſe.
Habituated to ſubdue the force
Of his humanity, what can remain
Within the breaſt of man that offers fruits
For nuptial happineſs?—
ANTONIO
enters.
—To meet you thus,
Is moſt propitious to my anxious hopes:
My voyage perform'd, with many healthy ſlaves
I now return, to claim your faithful vows;
And if the market proves of advanc'd price,
My fortune's made, and you alone command
My future life—
AMELIA.
—I know not what it means,
Some ſecret intimation moves my mind,
That no felicity can e'er attend
Riches obtain'd by ſuch inhuman ways.
ANTONIO.
Are theſe untoward ſentiments conceiv'd
From Laura's guileful tears and whining tales?
Can my Amelia eſtrange her mind
From reaſon, and her proper judgment yield
To errors, which prevail alone through fraud?
AMELIA.
There's more than fraud, more than invention fills
The ſtory of that hapleſs virgin's fate.
ANTONIO.
[9]What inhumanity diſturbs your thoughts?
The navigator is not culpable;
He takes the common traffic of the land,
And by his toil brings riches to the ſtate;
The police of the nations there is ſuch,
Like other animals, the herdſman ſells
The Negro drove.—
AMELIA.
—I tremble at the thought!
They that promote the ſin, partake the crime.
ANTONIO.
Inferior in creation, tho' in form
Of human kind;—each race of animals
Knows its gradations;—and from perfect man,
The Negro tribe is intermediate;
It links the ſeries, that ſtraight deſcend
Into the monkey line.—
AMELIA.
—If you would ſave
My mind from deteſtation, treat not thus
A ſubject, over which my labouring ſoul
Endures acuteſt pangs; if you would win
My better ſentiments, this traffic leave;
The generous aſſociation join,
Who labour in humanity's great cauſe,
With holy zeal, to gain aboliſhment
Of your infernal merchandize.—
ANTONIO.
My heart,
Already your's, your dictates muſt purſue.
AMELIA.
'Tis well, Antonio, and my confidence
Renews: my Laura's ſorrows fill my mind;
I muſt procure the maid her liberty.
ANTONIO.
And when obtain'd, what proſpect will enſue?
Where are the means of giving happineſs?
You'll only ſend her forth to meagre want,
[10]And in a foreign land, a vagabond,
Expoſe her to a thouſand miſeries.
AMELIA.
She muſt return to Africa again,
Her country, and her friends.—
ANTONIO.
—Romantic thought!
The wand'ring tribe ſhe left, perhaps diſpers'd,
The government diſſolv'd, new tyrants reign;
And warfare, the rough habit of their lives,
With chequer'd fortunes marks each petty Prince,
Now reigning, now in chains,—on Afric's coaſt,
To greater perils, greater woes expos'd;
There's not a ſlave that in this province toils,
But, if return'd, would worſhip the dire name
Of ſlavery, that makes them tremble now.
AMELIA.
Your arguments enlarge the dreadful bounds
Of that vaſt ſin which on your traffic reſts;
If reſtitution is impoſſible,
The baſe captivity, (that thus cuts off
All human hope, and no kind limit yields
To the ſad injury, but in the tomb,)
Of all the crimes on earth, becomes the worſt:
My weary mind now finds no reſting-place,
ANTONIO.
Even the ſervitude in which they ſigh,
Affords ſuperior happineſs and eaſe
To what their birthright gave—
AMELIA.
—Deſiſt, deſiſt,
I'll hear no more.—'Tis in the human mind
The various eſtimates of happineſs
Are rang'd, whilſt free and voluntary will
Directs the choice.—It is not luxury,
With all its artificial wants and woes,
That points out the criterion to mankind:
It is not circumſtance, preſcrib'd and bound
Within the limits of neceſſity,
[11](For that's a term mere faſhion has aſſum'd)
That points where Happineſs ſhall ſtay her foot:
'Tis habit that prepares the mind for eaſe;
And knowing no reſtraint, contentment gives
The various types that various nations hold,
Whence to characteriſe the heavenly gift,
Each calls felicity.—The human ſoul
Finds liberty ſo innate, through the world
The love of it prevails.—See, Pembroke comes,
Humanity's faſt friend.—
ANTONIO
—Hypocriſy's
Own ſon.—
PEMBROKE
enters.
—Diſgrace purſues diſgrace!
America ſtands blighted in her fame!
How are the annals of her glory ſtain'd!
AMELIA.
What new occaſion wounds your gracious mind?
PEMBROKE.
Still here we hold the mart of human kind,
New cargoes crowd our ſhores, and on the beach
The ſqualid multitudes are pouring forth,
From over-loaded ſhips, which, like the curſe
Of vile Pandora's box, bring forth diſeaſe,
With miſery, and pallid want,
Crippled and maim'd, whoſe ulcerating ſores
Cling to the canker'd chains, that rankle deep,
And ſeek the bone.—
ANTONIO.
—Exiſts there not a law
Which ſhould reſtrain ſuch miſchief-working tongues,
As hurt the merchant's credit and his wares?
Thy phraſe is falſe; the ſlaves are healthy, young,
And vigorous.—
PEMBROKE.
—Then be it ſo.—The world,
With anxious eye, regarded ev'ry ſtep
That led the revolution to effect,
[12]And made us independent.—Wond'ring ſtates
Beheld our ſtrength:—Our public virtue ſhone
With a meridian luſtre, that amaz'd
The nations who ſubmit to monarchy,
And heaven ſtood influenc'd, propitious ſtood,
And look'd approving on the energy
That in the ſacred cauſe of liberty,
In ev'ry prayer we breath'd, in every ſtep
Maintain'd, that brought fruition to our hopes.
AMELIA.
How has our country forfeited its fame?
PEMBROKE.
In Britain, which we did calumniate
With charge of tyranny and power uſurp'd,
The flame, humanity's moſt holy flame,
Breaks forth illuſtrious; all the people burn
With ſenſe of liberty: they boaſted not!
And the poor African the object grows
Of their wiſe councils, and their ſov'reign's care:
Whilſt we, who mocked God with impious prayer,
Mock'd the ſurrounding world with fallacy,
Aſſum'd a character we could not prove;
Now ſever'd—now alien'd—and left alone,
Pull off the maſk, and vote an impious law,
Reſtraining liberty for twenty years.
AMELIA.
—Aſtoniſhing!—
ANTONIO.
—Firm ſinews to beſtow
To trade,—the ſtrength of nations.—
PEMBROKE.
—Public faith
Alone ſupports a people's ſtrength.—In fraud
And treachery few momentary ſmiles
Of fortune fall; but probity affords
Stability and honour to a ſtate.
What's the idea to the labouring wretch,
That twenty toilſome years may terminate
His grievous taſk?—a ſpace of ſullen time,
[13]That much exceeds their ordinary ſtage
Of life.—
ANTONIO.
—The legiſlature wiſely ſaw
Inevitable ruin muſt ſucceed,
If inſtantly we ſhould emancipate
And truſt to hirelings.—Such exceſſive change
In dire confuſion would involve the land;
What mode of government could e'er reſtrain
The ſlaves diſcharg'd and ſet at liberty?
That mighty work muſt by progreſſion move,
And into habit grow by ſlow degrees;
Experience of clemency and laws,
That mutual ſafety yield, muſt tame
The ſavage's ferocious habit firſt,
And fit him for ſubordinance.—
PEMBROKE.
—This day
The council ſits:—On their opinion hangs
The fate of thouſands:—If yet adverſe Time
His wither'd hand extends againſt the ſteps
Of liberty, a ſtigma he implants,
Which all his ſmiles, for ages, won't eraſe:
The iſſue I expect impatiently.
Exit.
ANTONIO.
Are you deceiv'd, Amelia, by ſuch phraſe?
Whilſt honeſty, with open countenance,
Is raſh perhaps, and ſpeaks too much of truth,
Deſpiſing ſubtlety:—For that man's god
Is avarice:—He'd ſuit the Japaneſe,
And on the Chriſtian's enſign trade and traffic.
AMELIA.
Your mind is heated, and reſentment prompts
The character you draw —
ANTONIO.
—We ſoon may prove
His public virtue, when his intereſt
Is fairly recogniz'd:—for me, I own
The trade has much of bitterneſs and woe:
[14]Command me in your Laura's intereſt;
But firſt provide her ſome eſtabliſhment,
To bleſs and crown with liberty.
End of the FIRST ACT.
ACT II. Scene, a Plantation and Slaves at Work.
The ſtage being extended, ſun [...]ry perſons are ſeen performing the various labours of ſlaves; the back ſcene continuing the repreſentation.
CALABAN and HORATIO.
CALABAN.
THIS was a glorious voyage!—The ſturdy knaves
Are fit for any labour, and we bring
Full fifteen hundred ſafely to the port.
HORATIO.
What province are they of?—For much depends
Upon the breed; ſome of the upland ſlaves,
That border on the deſert, are of mind
So dark and ſo indocile, that they ſeem
Of one gradation only above brutes;
Thoſe of more eaſtern clime are indolent,
(As bears are ſluggiſh, and not mov'd by ſtripes,)
They'll neither ſerve the mill nor till the ground.
CALABAN.
Well, maſter, mine are of the fav'rite breed;
Twice ten degrees remov'd from the baboon;
Their form is human, and they're almoſt men:
Boney and ſtrong, of countenance acute,
And as hyaenas ſavage:—they're the ſlaves
For labour; as the mind is fierce and quick,
Their bodies in proportion active are;
[15]On mountains ſkirts and wilds of Zara bred,
The topſmen drove the herd to Niger's banks,
The mart of Africa.—
HORATIO.
—Five hundred males
I purchaſe at your price; but in the lot
I'll not receive that brute, that ſtands aloof,
And looks as if he held high eſtimate
Of his own conſequence; a ſlave like him
Would ſoon create a mutiny, and ſtir
My whole plantation into plots and vile
Conſpiracies.—
CALABAN.
—The creature's only mad,
Through ſeparation from his concubines:
So the fierce bull would bellow and rebound,
When from the paſture driven that holds his kine:
Keep him but low in food, and hard at work,
And all thoſe fiery ſparks his nature holds,
Will in free perſpiration diſſipate.
Enter MARTINO and PEMBROKE.
PEMBROKE.
Doſt thou, Martino, purchaſe any ſlaves?
Here is the carcaſe-man.—
CALABAN.
—And thou the knave
That would deſtroy thy country by thy wiles;
For if the council, mov'd by ſuch men's cries,
Should paſs the curs'd emancipation vote,
The envious Britons, who could not ſubdue,
Will triumph in the ruin, treachery
Can ſoon effect, by wretches ſuch as thee.
PEMBROKE to MARTINO.
Some caution ſhould be held, for much depends
Upon the cauſe now agitating.—
MARTINO.
And not a little on the market too.
CALABAN.
You purchaſe not, and therefore ſhall not prate,
To hinder the fair trader in his ſale.
PEMBROKE.
[16]Ruſſian, retire, and know thy province here;
Send forth thy factor, for to him belongs
This duty; and for thee, aſſociate
With fellows of thy proper element,
Or to the magiſtrates I'll make complaint.
CALABAN.
Thy phraſe is mighty, tho' thy figure's meek.
ANTONIO enters.
MARTINO.
The factor comes, and after him a few,
By way of ſample, of the fitteſt ſlaves.
ANTONIO.
Not ſo; theſe only bring ſome ſtores on ſhore,
The reſt, refreſhing on the beach, will wait
To morrow's noon, when they will be expos'd.
Several ſlaves enter ſtaggering under exceſſive burthens, weak and emaciated with their voyage: after them, one who refuſes any labour. As he enters and looks upon the ſcene where the ſlaves are at work, he ſtarts.
MOOR.
Ah! horrid ſpectacle of miſery
And foul diſgrace!—Are theſe thy wretched ſons,
Long ſuffering Afric?—Theſe of thy race
Of mighty men, whoſe hardy ſinews draw
The ſounding bow, and launch the javelin
With mortal ſtrength?—Who, deſtitute of fear,
Contend with hungry lions for their prey,
And grapple with the tiger in his rage?
Are ye ſo tame!—
ANTONIO.
—Conſider what's your lot,
And merit clemency.—
MOOR.
—Canſt thou perſuade
The raging winds to ſoften to thy will,
And whiſtle in thine ear?—Or doſt thou know
How to appeaſe the deep Atlantic's voice,
When tempeſts howl on Gambia's aeſtuary?
[17]If thou haſt magic in thee to do theſe,
Then thou may'ſt ſmooth the temper of my ſoul.
CALABAN.
Bravo, my gallant blade, ſpoke like thyſelf!
MOOR.
Was this the land where that celeſtialdrug,
That cures a thouſand evils of the mind,
Was planted by the ſeraphs of the ſun,
And by fair daughters of the ſilent moon
Water'd with dew of heaven, here I might find
The godlike gift of liberty; perhaps
In its vicinity doth juſtice grow;
Of theſe I'd mix a potion ſhould diſgorge
The monſters of the deep.—
ANTONIO.
—To merit ſuch
You muſt be peaceable, and to the ſtate
Obedient.—
MOOR.
—Away—revile me not;—
Compaſſionate my fortune, not contemn
My impotence!—behold theſe ſhameful chains;
Are they not peaceable! are not theſe hands
Submiſſive?—and this neck obedient?
This is not worthy thy more feeling heart!
Yet to my ſtrength what would theſe bonds avail,
If an exertion could improve my lot?
PEMBROKE.
Thy moderation merits our eſteem;
If ought of juſtice thou haſt here to claim,
Our governor and council daily ſit
Within the public hall, diſpenſing there
Impartially.—
MOOR.
—I mark thee wond'rous well;
And if the ſpirits of my anceſtors
Have not forſaken me, or loſt their courſe
O'er the wide deſert of the dreary main,
Perhaps the deity which we adore
[18]Will not forget me in a foreign land;
For they, retaining much of amity,
Will whiſper in his ear,—"The African's
"In chains."
CALABAN.
He raves, and, with his fortune mad,
He knows not what he ſays.—
MOOR.
—Too true, alas!
Mad with my injuries, and ſcoff'd at too:
As ſtubble to the lightning, I could ſhake
Theſe links to atoms, that my vengeful eyes
Might ſee thy heart's blood ſpout; but that my views
Are larger, and this friend to human kind
Has breath'd into my ſoul a nobler hope,
And made me dream of juſtice.—
CALABAN.
—And thy dream
Will, like the viſion of the rolling cloud,
Diſſolve, and only mock thy ſickly brain:
Return,—and at the lodge where thou art ſtall'd
Wait for to-morrow's market.—
PEMBROKE.
—If he craves
A hearing for redreſs of injury,
I will protect the man, and pledge his price.
CALABAN.
Doſt thou encourage mutiny?—
PEMBROKE.
—No more
Than I do villains.—
ANTONIO.
—This poor ſlave behav'd
With much diſcretion in the tedious voyage,
And ſeem'd above his fortune, ſave when ſighs
Would ſometimes heave his breaſt, or tears would fall.
MOOR.
Antonio was compaſſionate:—Were I
In Africa, I would not bluſh to ſay
What my heart feels.—
CALABAN.
[19]—Doſt thou depart with me.
Or in this new-form'd friendſhip ſhelter ſeek?
MOOR.
I crave to ſtand before the governor,
And claim the benefit of thoſe good laws
That even comprehend a Negro's wrongs.
CALABAN.
There is no law that can diſcharge a ſlave:
Here ſlaves are property.—
PEMBROKE.
—Can you inform
Whether by purchaſe he obtain'd this man?
ANTONIO.
Not being of my lot, I'm ignorant.
MOOR.
Such the peculiar hardſhip of my fate!
But if my property may be reſtor'd,
Intelligence will follow.—
CALABAN.
—He appeals,
And I reſerve my evidence to check
His ſubtleties.—He's been ſome pagan prieſt,
Or one in magic miniſtering to hell,
And thence derives his ſophiſtry and ſpells.
Exit Cal.
PEMBROKE.
Before the council, what of evidence
Canſt thou produce?—
MOOR.
—The evidence of right,
Which is the moſt acceptable to heaven.
PEMBROKE.
What witneſſes?—
MOOR.
—E'en none.—
PEMBROKE.
—How then prevail?
MOOR.
By argument, and influence of truth.
ANTONIO.
[20]What are the objects that the ſlave purſues?
MOOR.
Many and various are my mind's deſires,
As my dire injuries are multiply'd.
Firſt, I would move the council to reſtore
Thoſe things which were about my perſon borne
When I was made a captive.—
ANTONIO.
—Now retain'd
By Calaban?—
MOOR.
—Important in my cauſe.
ANTONIO.
But you had arms.—
MOOR.
—Should they be deny'd,
Yet brought before the council, thoſe true marks
Which ſtill contain my evidence they'll bear,
And not an African, from Niger's ſource
To Gambia's gulph, but knows their ſignatures.
ANTONIO.
If that be all you ſeek, command my voice.
MOOR.
Oh that Antonio was an African!
The meaſure's now reſov'd, purſue the way,
Impatience raiſes tumults in my breaſt.
As they paſs through the ſcene, the MOOR ſtands to gaze on the ſculptures upon the rock.
When firſt I trod this ſhore, I thought my ſteps
Were planted in the regions of the fiends,
Thoſe evil genii that haunt the ways
Of Afric's wretched ſons with ſad miſhap:
But—ah!—aſtoniſhment!
ANTONIO.
— What is't you read?
MOOR.
Pierc'd on this rock are characters obſcure,
In divination caſt; an horoſcope,
[21]In which I find myſelf involv'd.—Who cut
The myſtic line, and carv'd the prophecy,
Remains untold.—
PEMBROKE.
—The hieroglyphics theſe?
(Pointing to the rock.)
ANTONIO.
Decypher them.—
MOOR.
—'Tis more than I may do;
The ſame angelic hand that here engrav'd
The ſacred emblems hovers in the clouds
And leaves me not.
(kneels.)
"O thou myſterious light!"Eſſence divine! incomprehenſible!
"Who out of darkneſs brings forth mighty deeds,
"And didſt of nothing form all Africa!
"Still imperceptible, but in thy works,
"Let thy bleſt ſpirit lift thy ſervant up
"From this adverſity."
(riſes.)
My ſoul's refreſh'd.PEMBROKE.
Thy zeal has touch'd my ſpirit.—
ANTONIO.
—Oh! my God,
What is't we do! what right can we aſſume
To bring into vile bondage, men like this,
Who ſerve thee, tho' in darkneſs!—
(aſide.)
PEMBROKE.
Deſcribe what moves thee thus.—
MOOR.
—I know the hand
That grav'd that character muſt be divine;
The fountain nymph invoking to her tears
It gives a name, a fav'rite female name,
Dear to my memory; ſo totally
Unknown beyond the vaſt Atlantic's bounds,
Which fevers this your nether world from ours,
That nothing but ſome holy angel's arm
Could reach the mighty diſtance; one whoſe graſp
Embraces all the earth.—
ANTONIO.
—'Tis wonderful!
MOOR.
[22]The reſt is more obſcure: petitioning
For pity from the ſpirits of the air,
Groans are expir'd, for ſome cataſtrophe
In which a mother with her infants fell:
My ſoul ſuſtains ſuch dreadful agony,
Such ſecret ſorrows wreſtle at my heart,
I cannot utter more.—To kneel—to weep—
To worſhip—to expire—is all that's left
The wretched African.—
PEMBROKE.
Thou wound'ſt our hearts
With ſorrow!—
ANTONIO.
—Anguiſh not to be endur'd!
Why was I privy to ſuch impious deeds?
(aſide.)
MOOR.
I am unman'd!—I loſe my pious hope,
My holy confidence! yet he is not alone,
Not deſolate, forſaken, that has friends
In heaven!—Why do I linger then behind!
Bereft of all that life could give! —Oh Africa!
What is there left thus to ſuſpend my ſoul!
ANTONIO.
Why do we not proceed?
MOOR.
—Grief's tempeſt raves
Within my heart, and ſorrows are renew'd;
My adverſe fortune did not promiſe this,
That in the land of bondage I ſhould meet
With traces, mournful traces, of the ſource
Of ev'ry tear I ſhed, and all my woes!
But hold—I'd read again.—A thought ſucceeds
That blazes with delight!—Perhaps the hand
Inſcribing this, was her's!—Oh mighty powers!
And who but ſhe could tell the dreadful tale,
Divine my fortune, and divulge her own?
Do you not know who grav'd theſe characters?
PEMBROKE.
[23]They are of much antiquity, here plac'd
As evidence of compact and good faith
Between the natives who reſign'd the ſoil
And Britiſh voyagers.—
MOOR.
—You greatly err,
The hieroglyphic's clearly African;
Now liberty has double charms in view!
And if the guardian ſpirits leave me not,
Perhaps this land, which terrible appear'd,
Dark and unhallow'd as captivity,
May yield me joys,—moſt precious joys of life!
And prove the ſcene of earthly extacy.
PEMBROKE.
'Twere better to retire.—
MOOR.
—Deſpiſe me not
For theſe exceſſive contraſts of the mind!
I fly deſpair to ſnatch the hand of hope;
So ready is the human heart to ſeize
The image of its wiſhes, and to quit
The terror of its woes!—forgive me, friends!
From the idea which I laſt conceiv'd,
New proſpects open to my fancy's eye,
The gloom breaks off, the vapour diſſipates!
PEMBROKE.
Let us avoid the curioſity
Of yonder females who obſerve our ſtay.
MOOR.
There's bounty in their looks, why ſhould we fly?
As they depart the ſtage, TERESA and AMELIA enter.
TERESA.
With them Antonio!—
AMELIA.
—And Pembroke too!
TERESA.
Who is that ſtately Moor we ſee attends?
AMELIA.
I have not heard.—
TERESA.
[24]—As then we are alone,
Let me unboſom to Amelia
My anxious thoughts.—
AMELIA.
—What cares can now poſſeſs
My gracious mother's breaſt?—
TERESA.
—Draw near, my child;
Haſt thou obſerv'd in Laura's conduct aught
Of levity? and in unguarded hours,
Doth ſhe reveal a habitude of mind
Which ſhews a vicious tendency?
AMELIA.
—With me,
Perhaps reſerv'd, ſhe may reſtrain her thoughts,
And guard her conduct; but in virtue's cauſe
Few can diſplay more excellence of mind,
In ſentiments refin'd, and maxims pure;
And ſuch a chaſtity her ſpeech doth grace,
As would become the faireſt Spaniſh dame.
TERESA.
Then all is well with thee!—
AMELIA.
—The queſtion's ſtrange.
TERESA.
I muſt diſſemble, and appear to throw
My vague ſuſpicions on her lover's ſide.
(aſide)
AMELIA.
You muſe, dear mother.—
TERESA.
—Yet I'm unreſolv'd,
Whether 'twere better not to wound your mind
With mere ſuſpicions, whilſt no facts are found,
Or warn thee to beware.—
AMELIA.
—Of what?—of whom?
TERESA.
Of Laura.—
AMELIA.
[25]—Would you then depreciate her
Who holds my good opinion,—or accuſe
Some other?—
TERESA.
—Does Antonio never come
On frivolous pretence, and fondly prate,
Or waſte in dalliance his idle hours,
To trifle with the ſlave?—
AMELIA.
—You make me ſmile;
Leave me to manage with Antonio.
I cannot yield my mind to jealouſy;
It would degrade my own fair conſequence,
And ſo far leſſen ſelf-opinion too,
That I ſhould bluſh to own it:—credit me,
The maiden's virtues to ſuch ſhameful fraud
Are as ſuperior as light to ſhade;
Ingratitude to her is yet unknown.
(Exit.)
TERESA.
She does not ſeem to apprehend my thoughts;
It cannot be the governor ſhould ſtoop
So low in vice, as to debaſe my bed
With ſuch intrigue!—But ſtill ſuſpicion lurks
Within my mind, and jealouſy once known
Is hard to be eradicated thence;
Still feeding, like cameleons, on air,
Maintaining an exiſtence vile.—
End of the SECOND ACT.
ACT III. Scene, the Groves near the Governor's Palace.
[26]Enter ANTONIO with the MOOR.
MOOR.
I Mark'd his countenance, and tho' there ſeem'd
A want of openneſs, ſimplicity,
The character of truth, ſtood in his looks:
His words were few, but pertinent and ſtrong;
And thence perſuaded into confidence,
I truſted one chief ſecret to his ear.
ANTONIO.
If nothing more was truſted, all is well.
MOOR.
You entertain ſome doubts.—
ANTONIO.
—Hypocriſy
Can maſk the guileful meaſures of the heart
With faireſt guiſe:—when he aſſumes too much,
He gives diſtruſt:—no outward ſhow's requir'd
By virtue.—Tho' the homely dreſs denies
The power of riches, avarice prevails,
Lucre of gold, and traffic is his God.
MOOR.
Ha!—
ANTONIO.
—Next of kin to griping avarice
Is fraud.—
MOOR.
Am I betray'd?—Has he deceiv'd?
ANTONIO.
Be not alarm'd; perhaps I doubt too much.
MOOR.
Attend,—are we perceiv'd?—can no one hear?
All's ſafe.—In infancy my father plac'd
His firſt-born ſon with a moſt holy ſeer,
The high-prieſt of the Gods, to educate
In all the ſacred learning of the ſage;
[27]Who, having gift of prophecy, would oft
Gaze on my face with tears, and caſt his ſigns,
To try if ſome good ſtar might ſtill prevail
Againſt predeſtin'd evils, which he ſaw
Wrote in the book of fate; from ſtudy deep
And ſcience moſt divine, diſcovering
A favourable planet, he divulg'd
His thoughts.—
ANTONIO.
—I'm all attention.—
MOOR.
—"Still the Gods
"Are willing to preſerve thee from the woes
"That ſhall beſet thy ſteps; in time to come,
"(Nor diſtant far the years) captivity
"Shall be thy wretched fate.—A charm I hold
"Will from the miſery of that eſtate
"Have power to liberate thee, if apply'd
"With wiſdom."—
ANTONIO.
—Strange anxiety purſues
Thy ſtory.—
MOOR.
—Straight he bound my trembling limbs
Faſt to the ſacred altar, and my eyes
With myſtic fillet clos'd; then on my thigh
Inciſion made, and introduc'd the charm,
Extorting vows, that, till occaſion call'd,
If there ſhould reſt conceal'd; and if ſuch ill
As was foretold might yet averted be
By pious works, or aid of powers above,
That to the grave the holy boon I'd bear,
Where he had plac'd it.—
ANTONIO.
—A preſcience
Aſtoniſhing!—
MOOR.
—The dire event was come,
And now the time and due occaſion call'd
[28]For this important gift to make its way
To light, and give me liberty.—I told
The ſecret to my friend, to Pembroke told
What gift I held; and tho' he would deny
What ſuperſtition ſeem'd, he lent his hand,
And with a lancet brought a jewel forth
That would have ranſom'd all the ſlaves you hold.
ANTONIO.
'Tis well I know the ſecret of this truſt;
Perhaps he may prove faithful; but if not,
I am thy witneſs to confront his fraud:
So great a truſt, for avarice to tempt,
Will prove his virtue to its very ſource.
MOOR.
You ſee what inadvertency purſu'd
The ſtrange event;—for had I known what charm
The holy prieſt beſtow'd, more privacy
Would have prevail'd:—but full of pious faith,
I thought I merely held ſome myſtic gift
To influence the powers inviſible.
ANTONIO.
To what intent was Pembroke then to hold
The gem?—
MOOR.
—To change it into ready gold,
Or borrow on its value what might ſerve
For my redemption, and ſupply the calls
Of other exigence.—
ANTONIO.
—The time draws near
When 'tis accuſtom'd that the council ſits.
MOOR.
You'll be my friend?
ANTONIO.
—Depend upon my word.
MOOR.
Whilſt I look after Pembroke, ſhould you meet,
Uſe the intelligence as may ſeem beſt.
ANTONIO.
[29]I'll ſee you at the hall—
(Exit Moor.)
—A ſecond claim
Calls forth humanity.—The ſubtle knave!
Should he betray the injur'd Moor in this,
The act would prove of greater cruelty
Than bondage.
(Exit.)
The ſcene changes to the Governor's garden.
LAURA enters alone.
LAURA.
How fruitleſs are our hopes!—my troubled heart
Some gleams of conſolation entertain'd
To ſoothe this gloomy lot of adverſe life,
In the attention and the gracious ſmiles
Tereſa ſhew'd her ſlave: but now, alas!
Without offence, unconſcious of the cauſe,
I meet her frown auſtere, and angry pride
Sits low'ring on her brow.—
JEROME
enters.
—Still ſunk in grief!
In all her woe there's ſuch a dignity,
Such unfeign'd virtue ſhines from out her mind,
As teſtifies ſuperior ſentiment.
(aſide)
Where haſte you, Laura?
LAURA.
—That I may, my lord,
Not interrupt your privacy.—
JEROME.
—Stay, ſtay!
For I would ſpeak to thee, would dry thoſe tears,
And cheer thy mind from its anxieties.
LAURA.
Permit me to retire.—
JEROME.
—Not with ſuch ſpeed.
LAURA.
It is not meet I talk here with my lord.
JEROME.
I wiſh to aſk thee if thy gentle heart
Has ever known the tender force of love?
LAURA.
[30]Spare my confuſion.
JEROME.
—Ever known the pain
Of cold indifference from one belov'd?
LAURA.
My lord!
JEROME.
The pangs of deep deſpondency,
The anxious hope, and the impatient wiſh?
LAURA.
I tremble at your looks!—deſiſt, my lord.
JEROME.
Fever'd deſire, and tender languiſhment?
LAURA.
Nay hold me not.—
JEROME.
—But I will preſs thee thus,
And whiſper in thine ear my heart's fond tale.
LAURA.
Spare me, my lord, ſpare your poor abject ſlave.
JEROME.
I would not injure thee.—
LAURA.
—Then let me paſs.
JEROME.
No, I muſt plant upon thoſe velvet lips
Ten thouſand kiſſes.—
LAURA.
—Am I not your ſlave?
Is yet my dreadful ruin incomplete,
Whilſt I retain one gift deriv'd of Heaven,
My virtue?—
JEROME.
—Baniſh all thy fears, ſweet maid;
I will not rob thee.—
LAURA.
—That is gracious!
JEROME.
[31]But I would take what gentle Laura's love
Would gen'rouſly diſpoſe.—
LAURA.
—Alas! my lord,
If I poſſeſs'd ſuch quality of mind
As might your pity ſtill have merited,
It was my hatred of vile perfidy,
My firm integrity, my ſteady truth,
And yet unblotted fame.
JEROME.
—All theſe I love,
Nor would I tempt thee into perfidy,
But have thee true as magnet to the pole.
LAURA.
Then think of your Tereſa, ſacred name
Of wedded love.—
JEROME.
—Thy fair integrity
I would not ſtain, nor virtue would ſeduce,
But try t'engage them both on my behalf.
LAURA.
And break them with Amelia?—
JEROME.
—Thy truth
I wiſh to center on our mutual love.
LAURA.
Forſaking vows which Heaven has long ſince heard,
And on the tablet of the great Supreme
Written in characters emboſs'd with ſtars!
JEROME.
Then thou haſt lov'd?—
LAURA.
—And mourn it in deſpair.
JEROME.
And doſt thou talk of virtue?—Afric's maids
Are not ſo coy.—
LAURA.
—Diſgrace not your great mind
With ſentiments ſo far beneath the caſt
[32]Of that high erudition you have known.
In ev'ry clime fair virtue is the ſame;
And tho' the vertic ſun pours forth his beams
Upon the eaſtern world, and whilſt the froſts
With torpid fetters bind the northern climes,
Yet virtue has her ſanctity in each:
In each rever'd by Heaven, and priz'd on earth,
Ineſtimable gift!—If pure is light,
(God's emanation here)—if fair the moon,
If bright the ſtars,—(thoſe brilliant eyes of night)
If heaven's blue vault's unſpotted and ſerene,
The great Supreme on purity muſt look
With love divine.—
JEROME.
—To prate, to argue thus,
Is to abuſe the moment we poſſeſs:
What I would win,—by force I might obtain;
But I deteſt compulſion,—and will woo.
TERESA and AMELIA enter at a ſide-bower.
TERESA.
You would divert my purpoſe, but behold,
Are my ſuſpicions vague?—
JEROME.
—If you will yield
To my warm wiſhes, from this ſervitude
To a far diſtant villa you ſhall move,
And there enjoy your liberty.—
LAURA.
—Point out,
My lord, my tomb, and bring the poiſon'd bowl,
Then giving me my choice, I'll bleſs your name.
JEROME.
You muſt, you ſhall comply:—my ardent love
Is irreſiſtible—and thus—
(Laura ſtruggles.)
LAURA.
—Stand off,
(drawing a dagger.)
I yet poſſeſs one guardian of my fame.
AMELIA.
Witneſs her virtue, and compaſſionate
Her ſufferings.—
TERESA.
[33]—Shall we interfere,
And ſave her raſhneſs?—See the impious wretch!
How mean is vice, how abject!—See, he kneels!
JEROME.
Stay thy raſh hand, that threatens to deſtroy
Us both.—
LAURA.
—I will retire.—And tho' I know
This moment robs me of the hope of peace,
And mixes my ſad lot with other ſlaves;
Yet with exulting ſoul I'll meet my fate,
Reſign theſe uſeleſs ornaments, this garb,
To claſp within my arms the rags that cloath
The meaneſt wretch who in the mill-way works;
And an approving mind ſhall ſmooth the taſk
Which honour hath impos'd.
JEROME.
—It muſt not be;
Nay, I'll e'en conſtrain thee.—
LAURA.
—This weak hand,
Not rais'd againſt its maſter, holds enough
Of vigour to releaſe me.—
She retires—whilſt JEROME ſtands meditating.
AMELIA.
—Let us go,
'Twere better he ſhould recollect himſelf:
We muſt not meet him now.
TERESA.
—Not meet him, girl!
Yes, I will rouſe him from his lethargy,
That he may not avail himſelf again,
And my attention wickedly divert
By vile inſinuations, to the ſpoil
Of fairer characters.—
AMELIA.
—'Tis as I thought!
[34]TERESA approaches JEROME, whilſt he ſtands loſt in reverie.
TERESA.
Is this well done, my lord?—Doth this become
The mighty ruler of theſe provinces,
On whoſe example, and wiſe government
Depend a people's welfare?—
JEROME.
—You're in wrath.
TERESA.
Was it for this the nobles of my houſe
Gave you my hand?—And I could condeſcend
With a plebeian race to mix the blood
Of the illuſtrious name of Alicant.
JEROME.
For what, Tereſa?—
TERESA.
—The indignity,
My eyes, my ears ſuſtain'd, to ſee thee court
That odious wretch, and hear her high contempt
Of the vile bargain that thy luſt would make,
To barter for her virtue.—
JEROME.
—So it befals
Impertinent, baſe curioſity;
Its fingers in the miſchief ſure will ſoil
Wherewith it intermeddles.—
TERESA.
—Well, my lord!
JEROME.
It is not well; you ſhould have ſeen much more
Ee'r you had charg'd me with the infamy
Your words expreſs.—
TERESA.
—Effrontery as vile
As the debaſed habits of your heart.
Amelia!—
JEROME.
—Conſpiracy like this
Denies all temperance:—to ſave my rage
[35]Some dire and haſty act, I'll ſnatch myſelf
From the deteſted ſcene.—
(Exit.)
AMELIA.
—As I much fear'd,
Sad ſorrow muſt enſue.—
TERESA.
—My injures!
AMELIA.
Patience, dear mother! yet no intercourſe
Has taken place to your diſhonour;—
And Laura is as chaſte as light.—
TERESA.
—The ſlave
Muſt be diſpos'd, nor longer here retain'd;
I hate the ſwarthy elf that could ſeduce
My huſband's wiſhes from his lawful bed.
AMELIA.
Alas! poor Laura!—What adverſity,
What unprovok'd adverſity, has fill'd
Thy miſerable fortune!—Where,—to whom
Shall ſhe be truſted, that her virtuous ſoul
May not be overwhelm'd in wretchedneſs?
TERESA.
She muſt depart this land, and that with ſpeed,
Before the governor ſuſpects my thoughts.
(Exit.)
AMELIA, croſſing the ſtage, meets ANTONIO.
ANTONIO.
I am become your pious convert now,
And entertain a judgment that's ſo fix'd
Concerning thoſe poor wretches we enſlave,
That I have vow'd, no effort of my life
Shall be refus'd to remedy their ills.
Before the governor will ſoon be held
A bold appeal, by one whom we brought here;
Whoſe ſentiments and ſoul are ſo ſublime,
They touch'd me with compaſſion and ſurprize,
AMELIA.
What is his claim?—
ANTONIO.
[36]—His liberty:—but firſt
Certain inſignia which he poſſeſt
When he was put on board; from thence, he ſays,
Will much intelligence be gain'd, of whom
And whence he is.—
AMELIA.
—I find within my heart
An intereſt ariſe:—Whoſe ſlave is he?
ANTONIO.
The captain's—and I ſhould not wonder much
If ſome atrocious acts are brought to light
That hurt commercial faith in Africa,
And greatly add to deteſtation here.
AMELIA.
Thy friendſhip and compaſſion now I claim
For wretched Laura, whom misfortunes ſtill
Ceaſe not to perſecute.—
ANTONIO.
—You may command
My ſervices—I know her virtuous mind;
I know her ſoul's ſuperior to the lot
The adverſe ſtars have deſtin'd her.—
AMELIA.
—The tale
Of her increas'd afflictions muſt reveal
Some of the ſorrows of this troubled houſe.
ANTONIO.
Can ſorrow lift her footſteps then ſo high?
AMELIA.
Shame ſcarce permits the tale:—the governor
Hath look'd upon the girl with impious eyes;
My mother's heart is fir'd with jealouſy;
And for our houſehold peace, poor Laura's fate
Is pre-determin'd:—ſhe muſt leave this land;
It will be mov'd to Calaban or you
To take her hence:—if ſo, protect the maid,
That when this folly of my father's mind
Subſides, I may redeem her, and again
Extend ſome conſolation to her woes.
ANTONIO.
[37]It is not ſafe to truſt her to the hands
Of that nefarious wretch, whoſe brutal ſenſe
Of female character is odious.
If ſhe's conſign'd to me, I'll place her ſafe
In ſome ſecure retreat, whence you may call
Your Laura at your pleaſure.—
AMELIA
(ſtarts.)
—That's the voice
Of my enraged father; we'll retire.
(Exeunt.)
Enter JEROME and his freedman ZANGAE.
JEROME.
Thus foil'd by weak and whining women too,
Exceeds all patience.—
ZANGAE.
—Thence, what would my lord?
JEROME.
I know Tereſa's Spaniſh pride's on fire,
And jealouſy will fan the ſubtle flame:
To try t'appeaſe her mind, and ſave the ſlave
From her vindictive temper, is in vain.
Watch thou their ſteps —
ZANGAE.
—Attentively.—
JEROME.
—Contrive
To ſound their purpoſe:—if the angry dame
Attempt to baniſh Laura, or exchange,
(For nothing's difficult to ſuch proud minds)
Raiſe ſuch immediate force as may ſuffice
To reſcue her, and in ſome ſecret hold
Secure her, till you know my further will.
ZANGAE.
I will fulfil your wiſh.—
JEROME.
—You to your charge,
I to the council-houſe:—this little truſt
Shall not go unrewarded.
(Exeunt.)
End of the THIRD ACT.
ACT IV. Scene the Court before the Senate-houſe.
[38]Enter ANTONIO and the MOOR.
MOOR.
SUCH is the ſubtlety of this man's mind,
That to diſarm me of my chief pretext,
As he conceives, on an appeal to juſtice,
He has reſtor'd me theſe habiliments;
But with rapacious hand has torn from thence
Thoſe enſigns which my injuries explain;
The evidence which might maintain my cauſe,
My tablets, in whoſe records ſtood enroll'd
My country and my name.—
ANTONIO.
—Will you decline
The application which you had deſign'd,
And truſt to Pembroke's ranſoming?—
MOOR.
—I think
'Twere better to try both.
ANTONIO.
—I wait your will.
MOOR.
If from the force of truth I might prevail,
If Heaven ſhould ſend ſome unforeſeen relief,
Or move by ſecret influence the minds
Of thoſe whom we addreſs, more honour ſtands
Confeſs'd than when the price that liberates
The meaneſt ſon of ſlavery obtains
The indiſcriminate effect.—
ANTONIO.
—Behold,
The council ſits,—draw near and make thy plea.
The back ſcene opens, and diſcovers the governor and dele⯑gates of the province in council: ſeveral planters, CAL⯑ABAN and others, attending.
The MOOR approaches, making obeiſance after the faſhion of his country.
MOOR.
[39]With ſacred awe and pious reverence
This high tribunal I approach; I'm told
Here Heaven's vicegerents ſitting to diſpenſe,
As ſecondary cauſes, wiſe decrees,
Will judge my plaints, and my petition hear:
If juſtice holds a balance that defies
All undue influence, and pois'd aloft
Preponderates alone to truth, report
Will not have trifled with my miſeries.
Behold the victim of an adverſe fate
Bends with humility before the ſeat
Of government, and tho' an African,
Craves for the common benefit of laws
That ſcorn partiality—
JEROME.
—Proceed to ſtate
The grievances you hope we may redreſs:
Juſtice and right humanity's great cauſe
Are not confin'd to ſubjects of this land,
But from the juriſprudence of the ſtate
Are equally the claim of all mankind.
MOOR.
Brought here by force, and from my country torn,
By one who ſteer'd his veſſel to our coaſts;
Depriv'd of property, and ſuff'ring ills
Which ſhock the human ear in their detail;
Should he not ſhew on what pretence of right
He perpetrates ſuch deeds?—
JEROME.
—Call forth the man.
1ſt COUNSEL.
Wherefore do you detain the Moor?
CALABAN.
—I bought
The ſlave.—
MOOR.
—'Tis falſe.—
2d COUNSEL.
[40]—Your ſupercargo call
To prove the fact.—
CALABAN.
—If you hold out this law,
The trade is much in jeopardy; each ſlave
May controvert the truth, and call for proofs
The navigator never thought to have.
JEROME.
Was this man gain'd by private ſale, or came
Promiſcuouſly with other ſlaves?—
CALABAN.
—Alone.
1ſt COUNSEL.
Have you no witneſſes?—
CALABAN.
—If ſuch I had,
I would not for the fatal precedent
Produce them here.—
2d COUNSEL.
—Where is the ſupercargo?—
ANTONIO.
I know not whence, or how he was obtain'd;
When firſt I ſaw him, on the deck he lay,
Benumb'd, and totally depriv'd of ſenſe,
By ſome moſt powerful doſe of opiate;
His garb uncommon led me to enquire
Concerning him, but no intelligence
Was gain'd.—
JEROME.
—What ſayeſt thou?
MOOR.
—Your patient ear
Muſt hear captivity's unhappy tale;
As little hope depends on paſſions mov'd,
The influence I ſeek is truth.—
1ſt COUNSEL.
—To facts,
And not to flow'ry phraſe, confine your plea.
MOOR.
[41]The former year, by ſome rapacious bands,
(A roving tribe that rang'd the foreſt's ſkirts
In ſearch of captives to ſupply the trade
Which Europeans hold) the ſcatter'd tents
Of princes hunting, and by females held,
Were ſack'd and pillag'd, and the families
Were driven to the ſhores, and ſold for ſlaves.
Of them a maid, whom love had made my own,
And ſacred rites had form'd our union:
This ſad cataſtrophe I much had mourn'd,
And, tho' deſpair poſſeſs'd my aching heart,
In th' enſuing ſeaſon I came down
To Niger's banks, and paſs'd the friendly ſtates
With ſlender equipage, not fearing ill;
That if enquiry might my grief allay,
And I could learn where the dear maid was gone,
I might redeem her.—
JEROME.
—What enſu'd?
MOOR.
—I brought
Some gems of price, gold duſt, and ivory,
To influence ſuch navigators hearts
As might be there.—
1ſt COUNCIL.
—An influence, 'tis true,
But often miſapply'd—
MOOR.
—It was my fate
To meet a foe like aligator bred,
Amphibious, whoſe ſavage love of prey
Alike by land or water rag'd:—I told
My anxious tale with tears,—and might have wept
Unto ſome ſtatue cut of Parian ſtone
And rais'd as much emotion:—for his heart
Nor felt compaſſion, nor compunction's touch;
But from my tent deluding with ſuch cates
As his pernicious cookery prepar'd
[42]In ſpecious friendſhip and for banquet gay,
I drank a poiſon that ſtraight reach'd my brain,
And lock'd up ev'ry ſenſe in mimic death;
Then ſeizing on my treaſures, ſeizing too
My wretched perſon:—you behold the man!
JEROME.
What ſays the captain?—
CALABAN.
—All the tale is falſe;
And frantic with his ſorrows, here he raves
Of objects which a being never knew.
JEROME.
How was the gold and ivory beſtow'd?
MOOR.
We touch'd at many places in our voyage.
1ſt COUNSEL.
Did you diſpoſe of merchandiſe?—
ANTONIO.
—We did;
The captain too of ivory and gems.
JEROME.
What territory did you leave,—or whom
Shall we believe you are?—
MOOR.
—My lords, my birth
Was of Caſſaena, and my ſtation there
Superior:—to talk of dignities
Would ill befit my fortune thus revers'd.
Look on the claſp that girds my turban's front,
Where ſtands engraven the illuſtrious names
Of the bright ſun that rules the golden day;
On every ſtud, the characters of ſtars
That fill the firmament;—my pedigree
They note.—
JEROME.
—Is here an African to prove
One fact inſiſted on?—
MOOR.
—Without a friend
You ſee the ſuffering Moor:—if that great eye
[43]Of nature, where the radiant ſeraph ſits
Diſpenſing God's benevolence, could pierce
The ſtubborn heart of man with rays divine,
There need not evidence.—
JEROME.
—Was Zangae here,
He'd give ſome information.—
1ſt COUNSEL.
—See the man
Entranc'd and proſtrate!—
JEROME.
—What occaſion moves
This veneration? —
ZANGAE,
—I behold my prince,
The great Manzara; of Caſſaena's realm
The mighty potentate; a thouſand ſtates
Surround his throne, and to his ſceptre bow.
MANZARA.
Who is it owns Manzara?—
ZANGAE.
—E'en a Moor
From Africa eſtrang'd, who once obey'd
Thy ſov'reignty, and gloried in the name
Of vaſſal in Caſſaena's wealthy land.
MANZARA.
Thou knoweſt then the titles that I bear.
ZANGAE.
The names inſcrib'd are of thy anceſtors,
Whom the prophetic prieſts in origin
Deduc'd from the bleſs'd Sun, whoſe daughters fair
Rule each a ſtar in heaven, whilſt you on earth
Know not the limits of your vaſt domain.
MANZARA.
Look on that ſcymeter, and read aloud.
ZANGAE.
"May the Supreme with great Manzara walk,
"Whoſe mighty kingdoms neither Cancer girds,
"Nor Capricorn with tropic limit bounds."
1ſt COUNSEL.
[44]The evidence is ſingular,—
MANZARA.
—The light
Of heaven prevails!—the ſervants of the Sun
Deſcend to bleſs the intellectual mind,
And bring forth holy truth!—
JEROME.
—So very clear
The caſe, and the diſcovery ſo ſtrange,
We cannot heſitate to liberate
The injur'd prince;—and henceforth you are free.
MANZARA.
I reverence at once your happy laws,
And the juſt diſpenſation that's diſplay'd.
Thanks are indignities to your high truſt;
For to ſuch ſentence, thanks would but preſcribe
The bounds of bounty; whilſt the center form'd
By juſtice is without perimeter.
To prove my mind's not heated for revenge,
The chief poſſeſſion of the earth regain'd—
My liberty; my goods eſteem'd as traſh
I yield to his poſſeſſion:—to the Gods
That brought about this wonderful event
I give the reſt; vindictive power is theirs.
Exeunt Governor, Council, &c. &c.
ZANGAE
kneels.
Look on poor Zangae, on your humble ſlave,
Whoſe moſt ambitious wiſh could never ſoar
To ſuch exalted duty, or his hope
Conceive this glorious ſervice, that he ſhould
Redeem his prince.
MANZARA.
—Ariſe, my faithful friend;
If thou wilt henceforth my misfortunes ſhare,
Thou ſhalt be in my boſom as the gift
Of Heaven, by miracle diſpos'd to ſave
Caſſaena's captive lord.—
ZANGAE.
[45]—By ſtrongeſt bonds
Of gratitude I ſerve the governor.
If he—'tis more than I may aſk!—my heart
Is rent with woe, whilſt duty holds my ſtay;
For if I follow not my prince, my ſoul's
In grief:—and if my lord I ſhould forſake,
As faithleſs,—I ſhould thence unworthy grow.
MANZARA.
Hereafter I will move it:—ſtill remain
In that diſtinguiſh'd ſervice; to his ear,
As the occaſion ſerves, to ſpeak of me;
And thence facilitate my meaſures here.
Didſt thou e'er know Zanfara's beauteous maid?
ZANGAE.
'Tis now five years ſince I became a ſlave;
I knew her not.—
(retires.)
MANZARA.
—Go and remember me.
(Exit Zangae.)
ANTONIO.
Warmer congratulations I could give
Were Pembroke here.—
MANZARA.
—From this firſt great event
Much force will be deriv'd; he'll never dare
To injure me.—But as precautions ſafe,
Let us look after him; there's no ſucceſs
Attends delay: I wiſh to hire a ſhip
To carry me again to Gambia's ſtreams;
There's danger always in a foreign ſtate.
ANTONIO.
Our thoughts ſtill correſpond, let us move on.
Exeunt
Enter JEROME and PEMBROKE.
PEMBROKE.
Much ſecrecy is not requir'd, the fact
Already is too public;—th' alarm
Affects the planters much: conſpiracy
Has been diſcover'd, and a double guard
In ſome plantations now is neceſſary.
JEROME.
[46]What cauſe to charge Manzara with the crime?
PEMBROKE.
His name is gone abroad; ſome ſlaves were brought
From his dominions, and he oft was ſeen
In ſecret converſe, pleading earneſtly
With much geſticulation.—
JEROME.
—To receive
Such vague report and information void
Of proof will not induce the legiſlative power
To interfere.—There is a dignity
In this much-injur'd man that proves itſelf;
Such perſpicuity in all his phraſe,
As ſhews an erudition none but thoſe
Of the firſt conſequence could e'er attain:
We are not left to doubt his high eſtate;
From a full ſenſe of thoſe baſe injuries
He has ſuſtain'd, we gave him liberty;
And now to charge him with ſuch heinous crimes
Againſt the ſtate, is ſingular.—
PEMBROKE.
—'Twas I
That pledg'd his ranſom to relieve his chains;
'Twas I that mov'd him to his late appeal;
And is it poſſible, without a cauſe,
I ſhould accuſe the man whom I eſpous'd?
JEROME.
The circumſtance appears to me ſo dark,
That I diſtruſt what I can't comprehend.
PEMBROKE.
I hate the name of ſlavery, and aid
Emancipation by all powerful means:
But whilſt humanity promotes one cauſe,
Another it preſerves,—my country's weal:
When I diſcover'd that this boſom held
So treacherous a thought as mutiny
Among the ſlaves, and in its conſequence
Subverſion of the government, and ſpoil
[47]Of individuals, I ſtraightway turn'd
Attention to his plots, and found him out.
JEROME.
How found him out?—
PEMBROKE.
—I held his confidence,
And when he had enlarg'd on golden dreams,
And promiſes of Afric's wealth, he own'd
Revenge rag'd in his heart; a wiſh to gain
Retaliation for his country's woes,
And to let looſe a bloody hand,—t'appeaſe
The horror which he ſaw impreſt me deep,
He talk'd of vaſt rewards.—
JEROME.
—In conſequence
Of confidence like this, would'ſt thou impeach,
On the mere ſtrength of thy veracity,
This ſtranger prince?—
PEMBROKE.
—If juſtice ſhould require,
The deepeſt ſecret of my boſom yields
To public good.—But ſee, Horatio comes,
Perhaps he bears yet more important truths.
HORATIO enters.
JEROME.
Are your ſlaves peaceable?—
HORATIO.
—I am in fear;
They gather in cabals, and ſullen ſeem,
Working reluctantly. —
JEROME.
—But are there grounds
To doubt conſpiracy?—
HORATIO.
—My ſpies report
That ſome ſtrange faction has poſſeſs'd their minds;
Their prieſts exhort with vehemence; and oft
They ſing the war-ſong, and they hail their prince,
Whom they rejoice is landed on our coaſt.
JEROME.
[48]This may alarm:—but have you cauſe to charge
Manzara as a ſecret inſtrument,
Or as the object of the people's joy?
HORATIO.
I have inquir'd; my ſpies know not his name.
MARTINO
enters.
We muſt intreat the aid of government,
Ten thouſand ſlaves now threaten a revolt;
Through my plantation ſtrange commotions reign,
And all my truſty ſervants fly to arms.
Perhaps upon aſſembling of the troops,
This ferment may ſubſide.
HORATIO.
—If not ſuppreſs'd
With an immediate hand, none can foreſee
The fatal conſequence a night may bring.
JEROME.
What cauſe appears?—
MARTINO.
—We have diſcover'd none.
JEROME.
I ſhall convene the council.—
(Planters retire)
PEMBROKE.
—Thus you ſee
Th' intelligence is prov'd by circumſtance.
Were it not beſt to put the Moor in chains?
JEROME.
It may be neceſſary.—
PEMBROKE.
—If th' offence
On full inveſtigation is diſprov'd,
He'll ſtand diſcharg'd: and no great injury
Suſtaining, may depart:—but when compar'd,
The conſequences fear'd, with his arreſt,
The latter's light as air.—
JEROME.
—I ſtand convinc'd,
The project's right.—
PEMBROKE.
[49]—There's of his nation here
More than your Zangae now at liberty;
For as we loiter'd in the ſhady grove
Adjacent to your palace, where the rock
Is ſculptur'd with myſterious characters.—
JEROME.
My heart's alarm'd?—
(aſide.)
PEMBROKE.
—And whilſt he ſtood and wept,
He told me, in an agony of mind,
That there he read a hiſtory of woe.
JEROME.
He read!—
PEMBROKE.
—The graving's of familiar mode.
JEROME.
My paſſions are on fire.—
(aſide.)
PEMBROKE.
—And when his mind
Was all abſorb'd, forgetting I was there,
He kneel'd, and in an extacy grief,
Thrice call'd aloud, in his own dialect,
Jaqueena!—
JEROME.
—Ha!—
PEMBROKE.
—As if he would invoke
Some demon, and the fiends of Africa.
JEROME.
I have let looſe the eagle to deſtroy
The firſtlings of my flock!—
(aſide.)
PEMBROKE.
—I touch his ſoul;
That was the boldeſt ſpring I had to move,
I muſt not overſtrain it.—
(aſide.)
JEROME.
—You adviſe
To put the Moor in durance?—
PEMBROKE.
[50]—True, I do.
JEROME.
Proceed then to enquire into the facts,
That juſtice ſtrictly be adminiſter'd.
(Exit Pembroke.)
This is a foe I never once had fear'd;
Jaqueena is the maid whom he laments,
For whom he loſt his liberty:—To him,
Or to a legion of the Negro tribe,
I'll not reſign her:—for my heart is her's;
Nor Spaniſh pride, nor Afric's haughty ſons,
Shall from my anxious boſom wreſt the maid.
ZANGAE
enters.
My lord, the plot is laid; and to the hands
Of Calaban, poor Laura's doom'd to paſs:
Some iſland of the Indies is agreed
To be her place of bondage:—I have learnt
The hour of their departure.—
JEROME.
—Then take care
To have the neceſſary means prepar'd,
Not only of her ſafety, but to bear
Her to my diſtant villa with all ſpeed,
There wait my coming.—
ZANGAE.
—Truſty ſlaves attend
To execute your will.—
JEROME.
—My confidence
Is plac'd in thee.—
(Exit Zangae.)
—The Moor ſhall loſe his hopes,
Tereſa her revenge; and if my power
Serves not to gratify my will in this,
There's no ſuperiority is worth
The labours that attend on government.
End of the FOURTH ACT.
ACT V. Scene, the Groves adjoining the Governor's Palace.
[51]Enter JEROME and ANTONIO.
ANTONIO.
YOU are deceiv'd and trifled with,—the prince
Has a ſublimity of mind, ſuperior
To ſtratagems like theſe.—
JEROME.
—It was a charge
So grounded, and the facts eſtabliſhed
By proofs ſo ſtrong, I could not heſitate
To ſend him into durance, till we heard
The ſlaves were peaceful, and the tumult huſh'd.
ANTONIO.
There was no tumult.—
JEROME.
—All Martino's ſlaves
Had mutinied.—
ANTONIO.
—There never was more peace
Than at the inſtant;—not a voice was heard
Through the plantation.—
JEROME.
—And Horatio's men
Caball'd, refus'd to labour, and had ſung
The war-ſong.—
ANTONIO.
—All a fiction,—all is falſe;
A tale juſt calculated to reduce the price
Of my imported cargo, by advice
Of Pembroke, to affect the planters minds
With terror, and prevent their bargaining
In times of preſſing danger.—
JEROME.
—Both gave proof
In charge againſt Manzara.—
ANTONIO.
[52]—I repeat
You were abus'd; they knew not why he brought
Them hither, but propos'd ſuch tale to them,
For the baſe purpoſe, I declare, they knew
No tittle of the charge againſt the prince:
Read there,—they certify the fact.—
(gives a paper.)
JEROME.
—Good Heav'n
Protect us from ſuch wiles!—what could induce
The villain to theſe practices?—
ANTONIO.
—A hope
Of robbing the afflicted priſoner,
Avoiding juſtice, and eſcaping hence,
With ſuch a booty as his avarice
Could not reſiſt:—Integrity
Is a mere outſide ſemblance he aſſumes,
To maſk a ſoul replete with darkeſt fraud.
JEROME.
I know not what's alluded to.—
ANTONIO.
—A fact,
Will ſtrike you with abhorrence;—having plac'd
Much confidence in this perfidious wretch,
He to his care entruſted a rich gem,
By which he might his ranſom and return
Obtain;—in order, with impunity,
To rob the captive ſtranger he procur'd
Firſt, his impriſonment by a falſe charge,
Then got on board a ſhip prepar'd to ſail
For Spain.—
JEROME.
—My ſoul is griev'd,—I've been deceiv'd,
And to ſad inadvertencies betray'd.
ANTONIO.
Which ſoon may be retriev'd.—
JEROME.
—There is my doubt.
ANTONIO.
[53]The prince may be reſtor'd to liberty.
JEROME.
My heart is now with much compunction ſmote.
ANTONIO.
What moves you thus?—
JEROME.
—Proceed—did he eſcape?
ANTONIO.
Hearing of theſe tranſactions, and inform'd
Of the great truſt, I got an officer
To go on board and ſeize the treacherous knave,
Juſt as the ſails were bent, and tide had ſerv'd
To carry him to ſea.—
JEROME.
—With equal ſpeed
Send to the priſon, and releaſe the Moor.
ANTONIO.
Your Zangae comes this way.—
(Zangae enters.)
JEROME.
—'Tis opportune,
Haſte and releaſe the Moor, —if yet he lives.
(Exit Zangae.)
ANTONIO.
Is there a doubt?—You wound my tortur'd ſoul!—
Is there a fear?—
JEROME.
—But of the precious gem?
ANTONIO.
For the poor prince I'm all anxiety.
JEROME.
What the event?—
ANTONIO.
—The man, ſuſpecting not
That I was privy to the truſt, retain'd
The ſtone, nor try'd to hide his purpos'd fraud
By throwing it in the ſea; on ſearch,
We found it in his boſom:—evidence
Sufficient to the magiſtrate appear'd
To caſt him into priſon;—ſee the price
[54]Of his iniquity.
(produces the jewel)
My heart's diſtreſs'd,I tremble for the Moor!—
JEROME.
—To this dread charge
The villain wrought upon my guilty mind,
With ſuch inſinuations of the love
Manzara entertain'd or had avow'd
For Laura, and his purpoſe to withdraw
The maid from hence;—that—
ANTONIO.
—The fair intereſt
Which Laura claims in her Manzara's breaſt,
Might warrant all that Pembroke could deviſe;
But ſhe is ignorant,—ſo is the Moor,
That they're ſo near a wiſh'd for intercourſe.
JEROME.
My conſcience is diſturb'd;—I own my crimes,
And wiſh that retribution could be had:
The guilty paſſions were inflam'd with love,
Unlawful as it was;—my jealouſy
Was baſely rous'd,—and vengence fill'd my mind:
Under pretext of ſervice to the ſtate,
By my removing an obnoxious Moor,
Who would an inſurrection have ſtir'd up
Among the ſlaves,—I ſent my mandate forth.
ANTONIO.
What was its tenor?—for I dread the blow.
JEROME.
That in the priſon they ſhould ſtrangle him.
ANTONIO.
Oh horrid cruelty!—Oh innocence
That ſuffers mighty woes!—A captive here,
Drag'd from his country, and a diadem!
By Calaban enſnar'd,—and now betray'd
To death!—What dreadful crimes we perpetrate!
And yet the vengeance of offended Heaven
Is long with-held?—
JEROME.
(Looking out.)
—Oh! Zangae comes alone.ANTONIO.
[55]Then he is dead!—
JEROME.
—And on my guilty head
The blood of innocence is fall'n.—
ANTONIO.
(Looking out.)
—Rejoice,And be exceeding glad!—he comes, he comes!
Enter MANZARA and ZANGAE.
JEROME to ZANGAE.
Haſte to your charge;—and mark me, only watch
Their purpoſe, and attend my further will.
ZANGAE.
The people I have ſtation'd.—
JEROME.
—Get thee hence.
(Exit Zangae.)
MANZARA.
So long inur'd to injury and chains,
Methinks, the powers of Heaven have ſo decreed
They are my lot for life!—What further woes
Would you inflict?—behold your victim ſtands
To hear the judgment you'll again pronounce.
I have no more than life itſelf to loſe!
By men of your complexion, whoſe cold ſouls
Are frozen up in ice, I loſt my realm,
My wife, my country, and my liberty!
Now to accompliſh all, ſpare not the poor
Vile remnant of poſſeſſion, ſpare it not!
But ſend this ſoul to join my anceſtors,
Who hover for me on the mountain's top!
Where is the executioner?—be quick,
For I am weary, and would be at reſt.
JEROME.
Not to increaſe thy injuries or woes,
But to redreſs them, art thou brought.—
MANZARA.
—I heard
A voice ſay, "thou haſt liberty," and ſtraight
The ſhackles of a ſlave were taken off:
[56]No ſooner I poſſeſs'd the ſacred bliſs,
Than I endur'd the manacles prepar'd
For criminals: —ſo momentary prove
The ſmiles of fortune in Manzara's fate!
JEROME.
With my own hands I take theſe fetters off;
And in my arms, with cordial embrace,
Inſure thee of protection.—
ANTONIO.
—It's with grief
The governor perceives how multiply'd
Were your misfortunes, and his gracious heart
Is warm'd to do you ſervice.—
JEROME.
Confident
I need not doubt thy faith, this ſcymeter's
Reſtor'd; an ornament, for no rude cauſe
Will urge thee to its uſe.
MANZARA.
I bleſs the gods
This happy change takes place! perhaps once more
Caſſaena's diſtant land I may behold!
ANTONIO.
To heighten this new proſpect of your peace,
Behold the gem regain'd.
MANZARA.
I fear the change
(So rapid a tranſition) is not built
On ſtable ground-work!—If my gracious lord
Will lend aſſiſtance for our hiring hence
A veſſel to Great Britain's wealthy iſle,
Where an illuſtrious king, as the broad ſun,
Shines forth amidſt the council of the ſtars
To animate the world, diſpenſes round
The influence of wiſdom; thence we'll learn
Sage maxims for our government, and ſafe
Paſs to Caſſaena's lov'd and mourning land:
You'll thence repay me richly for the woes
I have ſuſtain'd within your territories.
JEROME.
[57]I joy to give you pleaſure; to your wiſh
I'll give all aid; a paſſage ſhall be gain'd
For England.—
(Exit Jerome.)
MANZARA.
—Sure the frowns of angry fate
Begin to diſſipate!—
ANTONIO.
—What means that noiſe,
Thoſe ſeamen in ſuch rage?—
MANZARA.
—New dangers riſe
To crowd the motley character of life,
Manzara ſuffers!—to the Governor,
(laying his hand on his ſword.)
For this faſt friend, unnumber'd thanks are due.
ANTONIO.
In conflict with the Governor's own ſlaves,
Headed by Zangae:—hark!—thoſe female cries!
A party of ſailors under Calaban, come ſkirmiſhing on to the ſtage, with a number of Negro ſervants headed by Zangae,—Calaban dragging Laura.
MANZARA.
Did I not think Jaqueena was in heaven,
I ſhould believe the hapleſs victim ſhe
Whom the vile monſter holds:—her ſemblance fires
My ſoul, and for her ſake I'll not permit
The rape;—deſiſt, thou miſcreant, or feel
The vengeance of my arm!—
CALABAN.
—Come on, and try
Thy valour, and my rage.—
They engage, Manzara drives him off the ſtage, and the ſeamen retreat.
Enter AMELIA.
—Led by the cries
Of ſome afflicted female—Oh, my Laura!
[58]LAURA ſinks into her arms.
LAURA.
Tremendous was the ſpectacle!—from Heaven
Deſcended my deliverer, the prince!
Caſſaena's lord!—my huſband!—overcome
With ſuch aſtoniſhment, I ſcarce retain
The breath of life, but faint and giddy grown,
Muſt ſink into thy boſom.—
AMELIA.
—Wonderful
Is all thy ſtory! but if this event
Be as thou wouldſt imagine, Heaven will end
Thy griefs.—
MANZARA enters, holding the head of CALABAN by the hair.
—To the incenſed manes of my fire,
To the bleſt ſpirits of Zanfara's houſe,
And firſt to thee Jaqueena, who in Heaven
Looks down approving this my juſt revenge,
I offer up the ſacrifice!—
(Gazing on JAQUEENA as ſhe lies fainting in the arms of AMELIA.)
—Ye ſtars!
Are not my ſenſes in deluſion loſt?
Do not my eyes on ſome bright viſion look,
That repreſents her ſweet angelic form?
(kneels.)
Thou ſeraph! daughter of the golden day!
Awake, and bleſs me with thy conſcious gaze!
LAURA.
Should I eſcape that monſter Calaban,
More brutal, more unfeeling than the wolf;
If yet the Governor deſiſts from wiles,
And my poor virtue—all that I poſſeſs,
Is ſpar'd,—that holy ſpirits may not turn away
The face abaſh'd, and from their realms of light
Expel and thruſt me forth.—
MANZARA.
—Where wanders thus
Her recollection? yet, ſhe knows me not
LAURA.
[59]If my Manzara, in his gracious arms,
Shall lift me to the grave—I die content!
And ſure his viſion bleſt my ſwimming eyes,
Or play'd upon my fancy with delight!
(gazing on him.)
—My judgment is ſo ſhaken, that I know
Not what, or where I am!—
MANZARA.
—Behold, my queen,
The gracious ſpirits that prevail on earth
Tranſported me beyond our hemiſphere,
That I might ſave my better part, my love,
And give her back to Africa and joy.
AMELIA.
Look where Manzara kneels:—alas! through grief
A frenzy has derang'd her gentle mind!
For yet ſhe recollects not!—
LAURA
(gazing on Manzara.)
—What ſad woes
Hath my poor heart endur'd!—I loſt my love!
And with theſe eyes beheld the tragic ſcene,
Where my dear mother with her infant fell,
And welter'd in their gore!—my brother dy'd
Within theſe trembling arms in agonies!
Snatch'd from my country, I'm become a ſlave,
The prey of tyranny and luſt!—'tis he!
I know his godlike features!—I behold
The great the good Manzara:—On thy breaſt
Let me expire with joy!—
(flies into his arms.)
JEROME
enters.
—Where is the Moor?
My ſervants have done well:—a veſſel waits
To carry him from hence:—the ſails unfurl'd,
The winds blow fair, and Heaven propitious ſmiles.
MANZARA.
Yes!—Heaven now ſmiles in my Jaqueena's eyes!
And all paſt ſorrows are extinguiſh'd
In this vaſt flood of joy!—
LAURA.
[60]—But ſee,—he comes
To claim his property!—
ANTONIO.
—He comes, dear maid,
To give your hand to your beloved lord,
And bleſs your wiſhes —
JEROME.
—With abundant joy,
I yield you to the prince; and pray to Heaven,
That in the little ſervices I pay,
I may atone for thoſe ſad injuries
To which I have too much contributed.—
ZANGAE.
Zangae muſt ſuffer yet a living death!
Sever'd once more from his moſt gracious king;
Deny'd his native land, become more dear
By wiſhes thus renew'd.
JEROME.
If the good prince
Requeſts thy ſervices, I will reſign
My faithful Zangae, that a wiſh of his
May not be unaccompliſh'd.
MANZARA.
You o'erpower
My gratitude.
LAURA.
My lord—theſe tides of joy
Exceed my ſtrength—
(pointing to the ſeat by the rock.)
There let me reſt awhile,
Where oft I ſat to weep, and worſhipped
The kindred ſpirits, whoſe beloved names
I ſculptur'd on the rock.
MANZARA.
—Your fainting eye
Diſtracts me, and cold apprehenſions chill
My heart.—
LAURA.
My joy had ſwept from memory
[61]The moſt afflicting ſorrows of my ſoul;
I ſtill have much to tell of miſery.
MANZARA.
When we are thus reſtor'd to liberty!
When hope, with wing than lightning yet more ſwift,
Anticipates the ſight of Afric's ſhores,
And Heaven, that heard our vows, protects our love.
LAURA.
My heart grows ſick—my eye's obſcur'd by miſts,
And darkneſs and confuſion cloud my mind.
Oh my Amelia!—Fate has cruel been,
And unrelenting!—
MANZARA.
—What of grief remains?
AMELIA.
Your tears diſtreſs me deeply!—wherefore weep?
Manzara lives, and you have liberty!
LAURA.
Draw near, beloved prince,—and let me pour
My woes into thy ſoul!—Oh! hear the tale
That diſappoints my joys,—and pity me!
MANZARA.
Moſt holy Heavens! what ſorrows yet exiſt
To aggrandize the griefs I have endur'd?
LAURA.
Well knowing that Tereſa's jealouſy
Would ſoon expoſe me to ſome cruel change,
And melancholy having ſeiz'd my mind,
For long I thought Manzara loſt to me,
I ſtraight determin'd to avoid the fate
Of falling into Calaban's rude hands,
Nor yet ſubmit to the impiety
Which mov'd the Governor:—the wretched world
Had loſt all joys, and hope her ſportive wing,
That us'd the youthful fancy oft to charm
With viſions ſoft as ſweet.—
AMELIA.
—Why ceaſe you there,
And leave us in this anxious ſuſpenſe?
LAURA.
[62]The tardy floods of life forget to flow;
I faint.—
MANZARA.
—Aſſiſt ye ſpirits of the air!
And with refreſhing breath of Heav'n renew
Her ſtrength.—
LAURA.
—Manzara! oh much lov'd lord!
From whoſe dear image fancy never ſtray'd;
Impreſt upon this heart thy character,
Which love conceiv'd, nor day nor night remov'd:
Thou wert the viſion of my happieſt dream,
And in the gloom of the deteſted cell,
As o'er the vaſt Atlantic we were borne,
And when America her ſlave receiv'd,
Thou held my thoughts, and all my wiſhes fill'd!
But hope was fled, and black deſpair was come;
Whilſt death alone held out a ſaving hand:
Raſh was the deed, and hapleſs it has prov'd,
(The gods condemn my want of confidence)
The poiſon, which my bracelet long conceal'd,
Was—
AMELIA.
—Horrible, and heart diſtracting tale!
MANZARA.
Then all my wiſh'd for happineſs is fled,
And launch'd again upon the ſtormy ſea
Of wretchedneſs, new fortunes I muſt try;
Pleaſures ſweet proſpects Africa has loſt!
Manzara is undone!
AMELIA.
Haſte for aſſiſtance, Zangae,—med'cine
May yet relieve—
LAURA.
—Impoſſible!
The bane is of ſuch ſubtle quality,
Compounded by Zanfara's wiſeſt dames,
It ſcorns repelling powers!—the hand of death
[63]Lies heavy on my heart;—and every nerve
Aches with convulſion.—
ANTONIO.
—Her approaching fate
Precipitates!—
MANZARA.
—Oh miſery extreme!
All the monition's loſt, which thy fair hand
Inſcrib'd upon the rocks, that might have led
To thy diſcovery and ſav'd deſpair!
There Pembroke too deceiv'd!—and I, employ'd
Too much on ſelfiſh views, neglected thoſe
That ſhould have ſav'd us both!—but 'tis too late!
LAURA.
Whilſt there is life, indulge me with thy gaze,
That my departing ſoul, replete with love,
May bear thy image to the lateſt breath,
E'er I ſhall paſs to Heaven!—
ZANGAE returns with Phyſicians.
ANTONIO.
—Aſſiſtance comes
Too late!—
MANZARA.
—Alas! ſhe faints!—ſhe dies!—tis done!
AMELIA.
And all our wiſhes diſappointment blights!
JEROME.
Like ſome bleſt ſaint who confident in God
Refuſes earth one groan!—
MANZARA.
—Do I neglect
The great example, and ſtay lingering here,
Suſtaining ſuch extremity of woe?
JEROME.
If ever more authority I ſhew,
It is to wreſt thee from this ſad deſpair.
(ſeizes his arm.)
ANTONIO.
To ſave much raſhneſs let thy ſlave receive
This ſcymeter, yet ſtain'd with mortal deeds.
(Zangae removes the ſword.)
MANZARA.
[64]I know not what to do!—Oh ſweet remains,
Adieu!—a long adieu!—If you retain
(to Antonio.)
Compaſſion for my woes, embalm the corpſe,
That Africa may yet receive its own.
We muſt depart,—muſt tear ourſelves from hence,
(to Jerome.)
The ſcene of ſo much terror and diſtreſs!
Zangae ſhall be the partner of my tears:
Tho' ſeas may ſhake the helm,—tho' adverſe winds
May hang upon the dilatory ſail;
Perhaps relenting fates will yet retain
Some pity for the Moor,—that he may land
On native ſhores,—and there erect on high
A monument, that ſhall command the hearts
Of our poſterity (whilſt man exiſts)
To an abhorrence of the Trade in Slaves.
FINIS.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4572 The Princess of Zanfara a dramatic poem. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5E00-B