[]

AMANA. A Dramatic Poem.

Libertas, et natale ſolum.

By a LADY.

LONDON: Printed by T. HARRISON; For W. JOHNSTON in Ludgate-Street. MDCCLXIV.

PREFACE.

[]

THE ſtory of this piece is taken from the moral and ingenious writings, lately publiſhed, ſtiled THE ADVENTURER, Numbers 72 and 73. But the Drama, which was too much confined in the fable, has been inlarged here, by the addition of four perſons, namely, NARDIC, ABDALLAH, FATIMA, and HAMET. For tho' NARDIC, and ABDALLAH (SANBAD, in the original) are mentioned in the ſtory, they are not introduced into the ſcene.

Some other alterations have been made in the fable, in order to accommodate the repreſentation to a Britiſh audi⯑ence: the machinery of genie's has been laid aſide, and the cataſtrophé brought to paſs without the declared inter⯑poſition of ſuperior agents: the time and place too, have been reſtrained, to preſerve two of the unities. Shakeſpear alone could call ſpirits from the vaſty deep; he was himſelf a ſuperior intelligence; could create beings not to be found in nature or fable, could rock ages to ſleep to haſten his events, and annihilate both time and ſpace, to bring the hiſtory of a man within the repreſentation of a day.

"Exiſtence ſaw him ſpurn her bounded reign,
"And panting time toiled after him in vain."

But modern wits are no more able to ſtride in Shakeſpear's buſkin, than modern beaus to ſhoot in Ulyſſes' bow.

[iv]The moral, profeſſed in the original ſtory, is, To ſhew the folly of human wiſhes and ſchemes for correcting the moral government of the world; which ſentiment is pre⯑ſerved here in a ſpeech of Amana's.

O Nouradin!
Forgive this fatal raſhneſs—Had I ſtaid
A few ſhort moments, we had now been bleſt;
But wreſting from the hand of providence
The means of my eſcape, we both are wretched.

But I confeſs that the reflections which occurred to my mind moſt ſtrongly, on the peruſal of this tale, were a tender and humane reſentment of the miſeries of thoſe nations which are ſubject to deſpotic power, and an exulting ſenſe of the peculiar bleſſings of liberty, that we enjoy in theſe thrice happy kingdoms.

The contemplation of this contraſt, both ſuggeſted and inſpired the plan of the following writing; in which I have endeavoured to contribute my grateful mite of praiſe to thoſe laws, and to that government, under which our ſu⯑perior advantages are eſtabliſhed, defended, and preſerved; and however the preſumption of this attempt may be con⯑demned, I hope that the faults of the performance may be pardoned, as the firſt eſſay of

A Woman.

To the RIGHT HONOURABLE The Counteſs of Northumberland.

[]
MADAM,

I Beg leave to lay at your ladyſhip's feet a work, which from the ſpirit of liberty it at⯑tempts to breathe, may hope for the honour of your patronage. Your ladyſhip's own character juſtifies this addreſs, and the names of PERCY and SEYMOUR demand it. Hiſtory is my voucher, and fame my herald. Liberty was their creſt, and Glory their motto.

BUT ſuch an heroic ſubject is beyond my ſtrength, and I ſhall content myſelf with praiſing and admiring the more ſocial and amiable virtues of your ladyſhip, your humanity, benevolence and affability; which latter quality is the cha⯑racteriſtic of true nobility, in oppoſition to that haughtineſs which is frequently obſervable in thoſe who have ſprung from obſcurity—Thoſe who are placed on an eminence may deſcend, but thoſe on a level would riſe.

[]IF this little work, the offspring of a female and unlettered pen, ſhall be ſo happy to amuſe your ladyſhip for half an hour, it will afford the higheſt ſatisfaction to the author, who humbly preſumes to hope, that your ladyſhip's candour will pardon whatever defects your judgment may find in this piece, for the ſake of thoſe ſentiments it is intended to convey.

I have the honour to be, With the profoundeſt reſpect, and humbleſt duty, MADAM, Your moſt humble and obedient ſervant, ELIZA GRIFFITH.

LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.

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[]

AMANA. A Dramatic Poem.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

[]
MEN.
  • OSMIN, Sultan of Egypt.
  • NARDIC, his Prime Miniſter.
  • HAMET, Aga of his Guards.
  • NOURADIN, an Egyptian Merchant.
  • CALED, his Slave.
  • ABDALLAH, Father to Amana.
WOMEN.
  • Amana.
  • FATIMA, Sultaneſs.

Attendants, Guards, &c.

SCENE, in and near Grand Cairo.

[3]AMANA.

ACT I.

SCENE, A Fountain.

Enter AMANA, with a Goblet in her Hand.
Amana.
HAIL ſacred fount! bleſſed by our holy prophet
Whoſe precepts, pure as thy tranſlucent ſtream,
Cleanſe the foul man, diffuſing health and virtue.
Frequent ablutions purge our outward ſtains,
And moral laws preſerve our inward pureneſs.
But hark! a caravan approaches near.
Quick from all eyes let me conceal my own.
veils.
Enter CALED.
Caled.
Damſel, by heat and thirſt impelled, I come
To ſeek refreſhment from this hallowed ſpring.
Say, wilt thou lend that goblet?
Amana.

Take it freely.

reaching it to him.
Caled.
Heavens! what an arm, a ſhape, a mien, an air!
Such are the Houries promiſed us above,
And why not taſte our happineſs below?
She muſt unveil.
aſide.
Withdraw that curtain, maid,
To cure my paſſion, or confirm my wonder.
taking hold of her.
Amana.

Rude ſtranger, hold—

Caled.
[4]

Nay then, I'll do it for thee.

they ſtruggle, and her veil falls off.
Enter NOURADIN.
Nouradin.
Inſolent ſlave, forego thy brutal hold,
Or by the ſoul of my departed father,
ſtrikes him.
This moment is thy laſt. Say, beauteous maid,
Can you forgive this ruffian's barbarous outrage,
Or ſhall his inſtant death make juſt attonement?
Enter ABDALLAH, and Amana runs to him.
Amana.

O! let me hide me in my father's boſom.

Abdallah.
My loved Amana! my laſt graſp of life!
What monſter viler than the wildeſt Arab,
Could dare inſult thy unoffending youth,
Or force thee lave thy glowing cheeks with tears?
Nouradin.
The ſlave who dared offend the angelic maid,
Waits to receive his doom from her decree,
And juſtice ſatisfied, too lovely fair,
I hope that vaſſal's crime will reſt on him,
Abſolving us from any purpoſe vile;
Nor may the innocent attone the guilty.
Amana.
Injuſtice dwells not in a heart like mine,
Nor can reſentment there long hold a place.
To you, my lord, my grateful thanks are due,
Who reſcued me from brutal violence:
That wretch's rude aſſault I pardon, alſo.
Let him depart unharmed.
Nouradin.
Excellent maid!
Thy mind and body ſure are of a piece,
Bright emanations of the deity!
Abdallah.
[5]
If you from inſult have preſerved Amana,
O! take a father's prayer, whoſe feeling heart,
For every wrong ſhe ſuffers, muſt drop blood:
My age's darling! ſole remaining ſtay
Which holds my frame from ſinking to the grave.
O! could I ſee that tender lilly propt
By fortune's foſtering hand, or better far,
Supported by the bride-groom roſe, I then,
With ſmiles would cloſe my wearied eyes in death.
Nouradin.
O! if the pureſt flame that ever warmed
A virgin heart, for ſuch is mine to love,
Unknowing of its pleaſures or its pains,
'Till I beheld this lovelieſt of her ſex,
And gazed my ſoul away. O! if a paſſion,
Which in a moment equals that of years,
Can make me worthy to poſſeſs ſuch charms,
Accept that prop, that firm ſupport in me,
Whoſe circling arms ſhall ſcreen her from each blaſt,
Cheriſh her blooming years, and nurſe her age.
Abdallah.
Since heaven deprived me of its richeſt bounty,
My loſt Ameſtris, joy hath never once
Pervaded this dark manſion: the buſy gueſt
Now fills each ſpace, nor leaves me room for utterance—
Generous young man! thy worth, thy wealth and power,
To me are fully known, with gratitude
I willingly accept the proffered honour,
If my Amana's heart feel no reluctance
To aid her father's wiſh, and make us bleſt.
But ſhould all Egypt's monarch, from his Throne
Deſcending, court her to the bridal bed,
[6]If her repugnant heart refuſed his love,
I would remit a father's ſtern beheſt,
Nor force my child to ſplendid miſery.
What ſays Amana?
Amana.
My father's tenderneſs has been ſo great,
That I have ſcarcely felt the bonds of duty,
As inclination prompted every act
Which might appear obedience; and in this,
The moſt important deed of all my life,
My heart feels no reluctance to obey.
Nouradin.
Extatic ſound! thus proſtrate at thy feet,
Let my full heart pour forth its grateful rapture;
And by a life of love, and friendly care,
Repay the happineſs I now receive.
Abdallah.
Ariſe, my ſon, and may our holy prophet
With benign aſpect ſmile upon your union:
May long and proſperous days attend your lives,
And every hour increaſe your mutual flame.
Nouradin.
This day the mourning for my father ends;
From Mecca's ſhrine, to which in pilgrimage
I went, I now return; ſome Angel, ſure,
Hath led my footſteps near this ſacred fount,
And in reward for filial duty paid,
Hath bleſſed me with an huſband's happy rites.
With her's and your conſent, to-morrow's ſun
Shall ſee us joined in Hymen's conſtant bands.
Meantime, to Cairo inſtant we'll repair,
Where choiceſt ornaments ſhall deck my fair.
Their rays inferior by thy eyes be ſhewn,
Which ſhine in native modeſty alone.
exeunt Nouradin, Amana and Abdallah.
[7] Manet CALED.
Caled.
May ſwift deſtruction overtake you both,
And if wronged Caled's means can lend it aid,
They ſhall be well ſupplied. Thou Nouradin,
Haſt robbed me of this maid; I met her firſt,
And had a prior claim. Her childiſh coyneſs
Would ſoon have yielded to my free-eſt wiſhes,
Hadſt thou not intervened; while ſhe, right woman,
Preferred the fortune to the man. Nor yet,
Is this the worſt offence; did he not ſtrike thee?
And act the bravo's part throughout? A blow!
What tho' the chance of war hath quite reverſed
My outward ſeemings, ſtill my pride remains
As high, as when in Spain, my native country,
I was ſaluted by the ſtile of lord.
And tho' the Turk hath ſold my limbs to bondage,
The inward man no ſhackles can controul.
My abject ſtate reſtrains a nobler daring;
Therefore I'll ſeek amends by cautious means,
And may revenge quick animate my purpoſe!
'Tis ſaid that love has wings—But vengeance ſtill
Outſtrips its flight—The Cyprian queen is drawn
By doves—The bird of Jupiter's an eagle.
On eagles wings my vengeance now ſhall ſpeed,
And in my talons graſp'd theſe doves ſhall bleed.
exit.

SCENE changes to a palace.

Enter OSMIN.
Oſmin.
What art thou, pomp? an airy being ſure,
Deluſive ſhade! which fools alone admire,
[8]But wiſemen ne'er enjoy. Even ſubſtances
Grow vain, and mock the eager graſp; the mind
Sated, not ſatisfied with blooming beauty,
Lo! dull diſguſt purſues the tired embrace.
Variety's a cheat—Inſtead of quickening,
It only palls the taſte; and ſinks our reliſh
To depravity. The lowly cottager,
Whoſe homely wife, made coarſe by labour, reſts
Within his arms, feels more of bliſs than I,
Who can command a thouſand various fair,
To inſpire new wiſhes, and revive my ardor:
But then it is ſubmiſſion, and not love,
Which prompts their yielding—They chuſe not Oſmin,
But obey the Sultan; while in full guſt
Of amorous dalliance, I but feel myſelf
An happy brute, yet ſtill a wretched man!
Enter FATIMA.
Oſmin.
Why Fatima, with ill-timed zeal and fondneſs,
Doſt thou obtrude upon my private leizure?
Fatima.
Blame not th'impatience of unchanging paſſion,
Which follows where attraction leads the way:
Tho' that, which once to me you urged, is dead,
Mine, like the fragrant mittle, lives in froſt:
Thy chilling coldneſs may deſtroy its bloſſoms,
But cannot kill the root.
Oſmin.
Theſe ſtrong profeſſions,
Of never-ceaſing love, ſound like upbraidings
To my tired ear—I like them not—nor thee.
Fatima.
Oh! do not wound me with ſuch harſh expreſſion;
[9]But ſince my once loved image hath forborne
To mark its former traces in thy boſom,
Yet ſtill, in pity to my ſex's weakneſs,
Reſtrain thy ſpeech from ſcorn. O! ſpare the guilt
To thy own breaſt, of ſtabbing mine with grief;
Yet leave me hope—the wretch's only ſolace—
And let the jealous doubts of ſlighted love,
And not thy ſtern decree, pronounce my doom.
Oh! ſuffer me to gaze ſometimes in rapture,
Upon my ſovereign's face; to hear that voice,
Which whilom uſed to inſpire my ſoul with joy,
And eaſe my heart with ſighing on thy boſom.
Oſmin.
Away—away— dalliance without deſire,
Is lifeleſs ſport—beſides, it might encreaſe
Thy hapleſs flame; and I in generous pity,
Would quickly cure thy ſimple ſex's folly.
Retire—I am uſed to dictate—not to argue.
Fatima.
Since you pronounce it, I will go for ever,
A baniſhed wretch, exiled of joy or hope.
But dread the anguiſh thou haſt made me feel,
May be repaid thee in the ſame degree:
Love is a vengeful power, and will, I hope,
Reſent his votary's cauſe: ſome beauteous maid
Shall yet avenge my wrongs, and make thee know
Worſe pangs than I do now—if poſſible.
Oſmin.
Thy vain predictions, like phantaſtic dreams,
Vaniſh in empty air. I dare deny
That all the charms of thy whole ſex conjoined,
Can raiſe, or pain or pleaſure, in my breaſt—
Full well I know, therefore deſpiſe ye all.
Fatima.
[10]
Then hear, almighty love, thy ſuppliant's prayer—
If thou doſt ever touch that ſtubborn heart,
With bittereſt venom tinge the piercing dart;
Mix yellow jealouſy, and fire-eyed rage,
And may no healing balm his pangs aſſuage;
Let him feel all love's anguiſh, all its pain,
And may his fondeſt wiſhes meet diſdain.
exit.
Enter NARDIC.
Nardic.
May endleſs days of never fading bliſs
Await my ſovereign, may ſtill ripening honours
Bloom round his brow, and each day add new trophies
To adorn his fame. Behold from Gaza's walls
A meſſenger arrived, proclaims your arms
Victorious o'er the rebel ſlaves, who now
All own allegiance to thy rightful ſway.
Oſmin.
'Tis well.
Now let thoſe lofty diſaffected towers,
That braved the heavens, and me, be razed to earth;
And let all thoſe who dared oppoſe my reign,
Now feel my vengeance. Is the city ſacked?
Nardic.

Yes, mighty Sultan.

Oſmin.
Then let its name no longer be remembered.
But ſee, O Nardic! how the ſhort-lived joy,
Inſpired by this ſucceſs, like the ſwift glare
Of lightning, is extinguiſhed. Diſcontent
Returns, and renders ſtill thy prince unhappy.
Nardic.
Where then may we ſeek bliſs, if he whoſe nod
Gives life or death, while numerous nations wait
Attendant on his will, can yet be wretched!
[11]Whoſe every ſenſe is gratified to fulneſs;
While all of art, and all of nature join
To ſoothe his wiſh, and court his appetite!
Our bounteous Nile yields all that can indulge
The ſmell or taſte, of fruits and flowers luxuriant;
Our minſtrels cunning in their harmony,
Draw forth ſuch dulcet ſounds as might aſſiſt
Creation in her work, and animate
The duſt from whence we ſprang. But, O! the laſt,
The beſt, the higheſt pitch of mortal bliſs,
See the collected maſter works of nature,
The lovely fair from various regions ſought,
Envying each other every partial ſmile.
Oſmin.
Avaunt, audacious ſlave! dareſt thou preſume
To expoſtulate with me? When I have ſaid
That I am moſt unhappy, think'ſt thou then,
Thy flattering tongue can gloſs my wretchedneſs?
But wherefore do I ſuffer thee to breathe,
Thou abject thing, except to adminiſter
Delight to Oſmin? Then hear my firm reſolve—
If in three days thou find'ſt not ſome new joy,
Some untried vanity, that may awake
My ſoul, and rouſe it to a ſenſe of pleaſure,
Thy head ſhall pay the forfeit—Vaniſh ſtraight,
Nor waſte thy precious time in vain debating.
exit Nardic.
Oſmin.
I have ſurrounded joy's capricious maze,
Yet cannot find the clue—Some demon ſure
With-holds it—But I'll ſeek it in the pit
Of Acheron, or miſſing, ſink in the purſuit.
Nor rapes, nor murders, ſhall obſtruct my courſe,
[12]Pleaſures, like maids, muſt firſt be won by force;
Of them too, when we taſte, we ſoon are cloyed,
And only ſigh for thoſe not yet enjoyed.
End of the Firſt Act.

ACT II.

SCENE, NARDIC's Apartment.

NARDIC Solus.
Nardic.
TERROR, ſolicitude, and wild deſpair,
Purſue my ſteps! Each moment ſeems my laſt!
The tyrant ſeeks my life, and he muſt have it—
Where can I turn to find new joys for one,
Who has in vain exhauſted nature's treaſure,
And plenteous as ſhe is, hath made her bankrupt?
Were he indeed a king, I might ſupply
New objects daily to relieve his languor,
And yield him tranſports beyond mortal ſenſe.
To feed the poor, to comfort the diſtreſſed,
To uſher baſhful genius into life,
Become a parent to the orphan's tear,
"And cauſe the widow's heart to ſing for joy,"
Exalt a monarch to an angel's rank:
But virtue ne'er hath warmed his earth-born ſoul,
'Tis a ſixth ſenſe to Oſmin. Science fair
To him hath ſpread her lettered page, in vain—
[13]His mind ne'er reached to contemplation's height,
Nor felt the rapture of a moral ſenſe:
His pulſe, his nerves form all his notices;
His heart, his ſoul are aliens to his joys.
I have ſent proclamation forth, that he,
Who in two days produce the faireſt virgin
To fill the Sultan's arms, ſhall in degree,
Stand next to Nardic, be the third within
This ſpacious realm. No claimant yet appears.
Enter an Attendant, and CALED.
Attendant.
This ſtranger, mighty lord, earneſt deſires
To come into thy preſence. I have now
Fulfilled thy wiſh.
to Caled.
Nardic.

'Tis well—Retire.

exit Attend.

What would'ſt thou?

Caled.
Let Nardic's ſmiles from out the duſt raiſe up
The loweſt ſlave that mingles with his fellows.
Here may my faithful ſervice be accepted,
And Oſmin's arms be bleſſed with ſovereign beauty.
Nardic.

Say on, for lo! my ears are all attention.

Caled.
This day the merchant Nouradin prepares
To wed the faireſt maid Circaſſia's plains,
Or Georgia's vales have ever yet preſented
To the ſeraglio's of the South or Eaſt.
The fabled Venus fails of her deſcription,
And thoſe angelic nymphs which by our prophet
Are promiſed to the happy ſaints above,
But equal her perfection. Never ſure,
For vulgar uſe were charms like her's ordained—
Our Caliph only may deſerve ſuch bliſs.
Nardic.
[14]
If that thy tongue, unuſed to flattering ſpeech,
Hath but reported truly, quick expect
The high reward proclaimed—Nay more, endowed
With all the active friendſhip of my life.
Haſte then, and bring this moſt tranſcendent fair,
To bleſs my longing ſight.
Caled.
My gracious lord,
Without thy aid our purpoſed wiſh were vain.
Lo! Caled is the ſlave of Nouradin;
And ſhall he dare to raviſh from his arms
The bride of his affections? Thou muſt lend
The Sultan's power, which only can accompliſh
His happineſs and ours: with that inveſted,
Inſtant I'll force her to your raptured gaze,
And prove that I want art to paint her charms.
Nardic.
The royal mandate quick ſhall be prepared,
And if our holy prophet aids my prayer,
She'll anſwer to thy boaſt. Come in with me.
exeunt.

SCENE, A Garden.

NOURADIN and AMANA ſeated in a Bower.
Nouradin.
My beauteous bride, with pleaſure I ſurvey
Theſe dazzling gems diminiſhed in their luſtre
By thy bright eyes, like ſtars before the ſun.
But O! that glorious planet moves but ſlowly,
Stopping perhaps his courſe to gaze on thee.
Were Thetis ſuch a bride as my Amana,
His chariot would outſpeed the wind, and yet,
Not equal my impatience for the night.
Amana.
[15]
All that I hear, all that I ſee, is new;
Yet not the pride of ſudden elevation
Swells my full heart, but gratitude to thee.
Theſe ſplendid ornaments, and this gay ſcene,
Attract my wonder, but inſpire not joy:
'Tis he, the fond diſpenſer of them all,
'Tis Nouradin alone that gives them value,
And makes them pleaſing to Amana's eyes.
Nouradin.
O! were the flaming mines where diamonds grow,
With all of wealth and grandeur, in my power,
How poorly ſhould I eſtimate the gift,
Compared to that which I receive from thee!
Amana.
Too highly doſt thou rate ſo ſlight a prize,
For poor Amana's heart is all her treaſure,
There humbleſt duty, joined with tendereſt love,
And grateful ſentiment, ſhall ever dwell,
For thee, my lord, my lover, huſband, friend.
Nouradin.
Tranſporting charmer, generous to exceſs!
But words are feeble to expreſs my ſenſe.
Here then I make a ſolemn vow, that tho'
kneeling.
Our law admits plurality of wives,
Thy Nouradin's ſincere and faithful heart
Shall never wander from Amana's charms,
Nor feel the power of beauty but from her,
The pride, the pleaſure of his future life,
His whole of bliſs below. Who dares intrude?
riſing.
Enter CALED, and Guards.
Nouradin.
Unmannered ſlave! what inſolence to ruſh
Into my preſence thus?
Caled.
[16]

Then know my errand.

preſenting the mandate.
Nouradin.

With reverence I receive the Caliph's mandate.

reads.
Caled.
Can'ſt thou not read it? Why doſt tremble ſo?
Arouſe, and be a man—I did not ſtrike thee—
Thou firſt bereaved me of that precious beauty—
I but repay thee juſtice for thy wrongs.
Nouradin.
Ten thouſand daggers ſtick within my heart—
Monſter, Barbarian, Oh!
drops the paper, and Caled takes it up.
Amana.
Alas! he faints,
Quick let me fly to aid him.
runs to him.
Caled.
Lovely maid,
Thy tender cares muſt henceforth be beſtowed
On one more worthy of thy charms. The Sultan
In tedious languiſhment attends thy preſence,
And we muſt not delay.
Amana.
Oh! never, never—
This world hath no exchange for Nouradin.
Nouradin.
Tear out my heart, pluck all my limbs aſunder,
Wreak thy full vengeance on this wretched body—
But ſpare, Oh! ſpare Amana.
Amana.
Nought but death
Shall ever wreſt me from my love. My father!
Enter ABDALLAH.
Wilt thou not reſcue me?
Caled.

Obſerve this mandate.

to Abdallah.
Abdallah.

Alas! my child, it is not in my power.

Nouradin.
Since wealth can bribe thee to an act of baſeneſs,
Let it, for once, inſpire humanity.
Take all that I poſſeſs—excepting her—
Thou can'ſt not leave me poor—
Caled.
[17]
Were all thy wealth
Trebled a thouſand fold, nay were it more
Than even thought can number, for it all
I'd not forego the joys I feel in vengeance.
Now thou art anſwered—Quick prepare to part—
I will indulge thee with a laſt embrace.
Amana.
They ſhall diſmember me to looſe this hold—
Oh! kill me, ſir, and ſave me from diſhonour.
to her father.
Abdallah.
Oh! my unhappy child, thy father wiſhes
To ſee thee dead, but cannot give the blow.
Caled.
Come, madam, to delay your bliſs were vain;
If you conſent not, force ſhall make you happy.
lays hold of her.
Nouradin.
Oh! do not hurt her tender limbs, and I
Will quit my hold of her, and life together.
My loved, my loſt Amana!
they force her off. He falls.
Abdallah.
Curſt be this clime, and doubly curſed its Prophet!
For whoſe falſe faith I left the only true;
At once abandoned heaven, and my country,
Renounced both worlds for my Ameſtris' charms.
O liberty! thou firſt, beſt gift, to man
Beſtowed in Paradiſe—Nature's creation
Subject to him, himſelf without controul,
Except to heaven alone. Thus, thus derived,
We claim it as our birth-right. Yet, O ſhame!
Whole nations have reſigned this right divine,
From heaven revolting, yet ſubmit to man.
Albion alone preſerves the bleſt Palladium,
Where every power of doing good is free,
And peaſants may defend their rights from kings.
A ſecond Eden in religion alſo,
[18]In faith and practice pureſt among men.
Yet I a renegade to each advantage,
Tho' born a Briton, bred a Chriſtian too,
My creed, my country, for a woman's love
Did forfeit. True indeed, my paradiſe
I have enjoyed below—But vengeance ſure
Tho' ſlow, hath now o'erta'en, and my Amana
Is marked a victim for her father's crime.
Yet ſtill, juſt heaven! If ſin may be attoned
kneels.
By deep contrition, weigh my penitence,
Nor ſhed the parent's guilt upon the child.
Oh! rather let me live while nature's powers
Admit exiſtence, in that life be curſed
With pain, with penury, with every ill
To vex the mind, or torture human ſenſe:
Extend thoſe evils to my lateſt gaſp,
And purge my apoſtaſy with wounds and death!
Nouradin.
Why did I part with her! Why not ſuſtain
ſtarting up.
The Sultan's cruelty, and Caled's vengeance!
Oh! had they hewed me piece-meal, what could they
Have done, but kill'd me! And I now muſt ſuffer
A thouſand, thouſand deaths! But fear for her
Unmanned my nature quite—For in the ſtrife,
They might have injured her. There, there I died—
Torn from my bleeding heart where is ſhe now?
Perhaps encircled in the Caliph's arms!
Abdallah.
Stay that ungenerous thought—tho' born a ſlave,
My daughter ever hath been bred a Briton;
Nor will ſhe condeſcend to live on terms
Which her chaſte ſoul abhors—From earlieſt youth,
[19]She has been taught to know that life is dowerleſs.
Without virtue: ſtript of that rich portion,
One lot alone remains—to die with honour.
Therefore believe Amana ſtill a virgin,
Or no more—
Nouradin.
Why doſt thou ſeek to aggravate my ſorrows?
I hoped Amana's heart might be at peace,
That wealth, that grandeur might have bought her ſmiles,
And left me only, wretched—Oh! 'tis falſe!
Vile treaſon againſt love! That heavenly maid,
Within this hour, declared ſhe only lived
For Nouradin—Then let me inſtant fly,
To ſave her from pollution: this good ſword
Lodge deep in Oſmin's breaſt—or in my own.
Abdallah.
My ſon, attend. A thought has quick occurred,
Which may perhaps, redeem us from deſpair.
The captain of the guards, his name is Hamet,
Was once a well tried friend of mine: honeſt,
Sincere and brave; ſtrict bound in gratitude,
For ſervices, no matter now to tell.
And if the modes of court have not eraſed
All generous feelings from his aged breaſt,
He will both pity, and aſſiſt our purpoſe.
Should he but lend his aid, I yet have hope,
Of reſcuing Amana from perdition.
But, oh! he never felt a father's anguiſh,
Nor did his heart e'er bleed as mine does now!
Nouradin.
O! loſe not time in fruitleſs doubts or fears.
But fly this moment, and ſtrong urge your ſuit;
Uſe every argument that thought can frame,
[20]To bind him to our friendſhip: if my wealth
Can buy his ſervice, let him take it all,
And pay me with one ſight of my Amana.
Abdallah.
Thou need'ſt not ſeek to preſs a father's haſte
To ſave an only child; for tho' no raptures
Now fire my blood like yours, more generous paſſions,
Rage 'gainſt oppreſſion, with parental fondneſs,
Have made my heart as brave as his who dares
The cannon's roar in battle. But my ſon,
Know that the adventure is moſt hazardous;
Therefore with caution let us now proceed,
Entreating heaven to bleſs the pious deed—
And if we fail, I am prepared to bleed.
End of the Second Act.

ACT III.

SCENE, NARDIC's Apartment.

Enter NARDIC.
Nardic.
WHAT ſtrong impatience agitates my mind!
Would Caled were arrived. I long, yet dread
To view this promiſed maid, upon whoſe charms
Depends my life or death. Oh! the mean ſlavery
Of proud dependence! How contemptuous ſeem
All power, all greatneſs, which we poorly borrow
From another's ſmiles! or purchaſe baſely
[21]With office ſervile, or with treachery buy!
Strange ſtate of man, to be or ſlave or tyrant!
Is there no mean condition, holy prophet?
Are all then born for one? No way to blend
Prerogative with liberty? To poiſe
In equal ſcales, the prince and people's rights,
And make them mutually ſuſpend each other?
Enter CALED, leading in Amana veiled.
Caled.
Now let thy ſervant's truth be fully proved.
Behold the fair Amana.
Nardic.
Her ſhape and ſtature vouch in part thy praiſe,
Her face I hope will certify the reſt.
takes off her veil.
[...] [...]ſcendent charmer, dry thoſe falling tears,
A [...]d let thy lovely eyes be decked in ſmiles,
To [...]reet thy coming greatneſs; happieſt,
As faireſt of thy ſex, I hail thee queen,
proſtrates himſelf before her.
And here devote my future life, and ſervice,
To the commands of our bright Sultaneſs,
The fair Amana.
Amana.
O deteſted flattery!
Offspring of meanneſs and ambition, foſtered
In courts, luxuriant ſoil for every vice
To thrive and flouriſh in. Know I diſdain
The Sultan and his greatneſs. If indeed,
Thou mean'ſt thy kind profeſſions for my ſervice,
O! give me back to a fond father's arms,
To a deſpairing huſband's bleeding heart,
Or with thy poignard ſet my own at reſt.
Nardic.
Alas! bright maid, thy youth and inexperience
Have much deceived thee, and thou know'ſt not yet
[22]The joys ſuperior which attend on greatneſs.
Soon in the Caliph's arms thou wilt renounce
The mean plebeian whom thou now lamenteſt,
And thank our prophet for the bleſt exchange.
The higheſt tranſport to a female heart,
Shall too be thine; for thou wilt triumph o'er
Contending rivals for the prize of beauty.
A thouſand fair ones ſhall obey thy will,
Who while they pine in envy at thy bliſs,
Muſt ſtill acknowledge thy ſuperior charms.
I ſoon ſhall lead thee to true happineſs,
And lodge thee ſafe in Oſmin's fond embrace.
exeunt Nard. and Cal.
Amana.
Rather to inſtant death convey me ſtraight!
What will my fate do with me? Oh, Nouradin!
Why did my ſoul receive its firſt, its tendereſt,
Its only feelings, from thy worth! Why was
Thy generous love beſtowed on ſuch a wretch,
Loſt and abandoned now to vile pollution!
No—it ſhall never be—tho' void of means
To free myſelf by force, my daring ſoul
Shall ſeek ſome horrid way—I know not what—
To reſcue me from force, and proſtitution.
Enter OSMIN and NARDIC.
Nardic.
There ſtands the lovely fair, whom I deſcribed—
Now let thine eyes be judge.
Oſmin.
Retire a while.
exit Nardic.
My beauteous maid, bend not thy eyes thus mournful,
Upon the earth, but let them ſhine on Oſmin.
Amana.
O let the judge of nations hear my prayer!
throws her⯑ſelf at his feet.
With eyes of pity not deſire, behold
[23]The unhappieſt of her ſex; unworthy far,
Or of his greatneſs, or his love: for oh!
Her aliened heart was wholly won, e'er ſhe
Beheld the mighty Oſmin, given away
By ſacred contract, to a lovely youth;
And this day was to have ſolemnized our nuptials,
But for the treachery of a barbarous ſlave.
Then let not him for whom fond beauties ſigh,
Retain the furtive prize of villainy;
But quick reſtore her to the virtuous ties
Of filial duty, and of wedded love.
Oſmin.
Ariſe—but be aſſured thou plead'ſt in vain—
The tenderneſs of thy complaint hath moved me,
But not to pity—Since thou can'ſt feel love,
Why not ſuſtain its pleaſing pains for me?
Thou art not formed of coarſe plebeian mould,
Too delicate to ſill a vaſſal's arms.
I would preſerve thy paſſion in its force,
But thou muſt learn to change the happy object.
The taſk is eaſy, from my own experience,
For I have loved before—and now love thee.
Amana.
As well might'ſt thou command ſweet flowers to grow
On the tempeſtuous ſea, as force true love
To change its object. 'Tis impoſſible!
From one ſtrong ſtem, rooted in both our hearts,
Our paſſions bloomed at once, reciprocal:
Thy breath may blaſt the fruit, but ne'er thy hand
Reap the ripe harveſt. Then, O mighty Sultan!
If ever thou doſt hope to taſte the joys
Of mutual love, O let my ſtreaming eyes,
[24]And lifted hands, procure my reconveyance.
Or if thou envieſt him this poor poſſeſſion,
Quick let my death deſtroy his hopes, with thine.
Oſmin.
Thou ſhalt not die, nor will I part with thee—
But know the ſlave for whom thy fondneſs pleads,
Shall bleed within thy ſight, if in the ſpace
Of two revolving ſuns thou yieldeſt not
To gratify my wiſh with ſoft compliance.
'Tis thy own fault if henceforth thou art unhappy—
By gentle means I chuſe to win thy love;
My utmoſt power thou may'ſt command, at will,
Thy friends ſhall all be great; nay more, the ſlave,
The very ſlave thou ſigh'ſt for, will I ſerve:
His life or death depends on thee—thou art,
As well as mine, his deſtiny—Farewel.
offers to go.
Amana.
O! do not leave me! Thy relenting heart
Speaks in thy eyes, and gives a dawn of hope.
Thou wilt not murder Nouradin! Thou wilt not—
I know thou wilt not. Say his life is ſafe,
And bid me be at peace from wild diſtraction.
Oſmin.
I have already told thee my reſolve,
Nor am I uſed to trifle in my ſpeech.
My words are firm decrees; and ſince pronounced,
That wretch's fate now reſts on thee—Not me.
Amana.
Then hear my reſolution, fixed as thine—
Tho' dearer to my heart is Nouradin,
Than ſight is to the blind, health to the ſick,
To priſoners liberty—O far, far dearer
Than life, and all its joys, to his Amana—
Yet will I put with him, ſurvey the mutes
[25]Fixing the bow ſtring round his neck, where I
Should fold my grateful arms, to death devote him,
Rather than wound his image in my heart,
Or ſtain that mirror with a ſecond object.
Oſmin.
Beware, and ſtop thy heedleſs tongue, leſt I
Revoke the clemency my grace hath proffered,
And doom thy minion to an inſtant death.
Amana.
Oh! I am ſilent, will not dare to ſpeak,
Even to intreat thy pity—O Nouradin!
Thou can'ſt not know what I endure for thee.
aſide.
Oſmin.
'Tis well—reſtrain thy impetuous grief, and let
The tedious interval I have indulged thee,
Be well employed to brighten every charm,
Which now obſcured, and deadened by thy ſorrow,
Shew like Aurora when her infant beams
Hold conteſt with the gloomy ſhades of night.
And like the glorious ruler of the day,
Let genial warmth diſpel the ſullen miſt;
Then in the full meridian of thy charms,
With perfect beauty bleſs my longing arms.
exeunt ſeverally.
Enter NARDIC, CALED and HAMET.
Nardic.
Joy to thee Caled! May ſtill proſperous days
Attend thy life with full and long enjoyment.
Our Sultan has accepted thy fair gift,
And owns her equal to his fondeſt wiſh.
Therefore with power in next degree to mine,
I here inveſt thee Aga of the guards.
Hamet in thy new office will inſtruct thee—
He has reſigned it to make way for Caled.
Caled.
[26]
Moſt mighty lord, Caled is bound to thee,
Thy future ſlave; for even thoſe flattering honours
With which thou load'ſt him, hold inferior rank,
As ſecond to the higher debt he owes thee
Who ſlaked his thirſty ſoul with ſweet revenge.
But much I long to know how did Amana
Receive the overture of Oſmin's flame?
True woman, I ſuppoſe, for ſuch the ſex,
One lover out of ſight, with greedy ear
She liſtened to the ſecond's ſoothing tale,
Forgot her vows, and ſunk into his arms.
Nardic.
Caled, thou'rt much deceived—her ſtubborn will
Yet bends not—She is indeed a woman—
Perverſe and obſtinate—pleads plighted love
To Nouradin, intreats to be reſtored
To his embrace, or begs that ſhe may die.
Caled.
How would her ſighs delight my liſt'ning ear!
But then I fear leſt thro' her ſullen coyneſs,
The Sultan take diſguſt, and caſt her from him.
Perhaps reſtore her to her huſband's arms—
The thought has daggers in't.
Nardic.
O fear not that—
He is too much enamoured of her charms,
To quit the fond purſuit: the power of beauty
Had never ſuch effect upon his heart,
Since firſt I marked the movement of his paſſions.
Beſides, his reſtive pride will ſcorn to yield,
And force is ready ſhould perſuaſion fail.
He has allowed a reſpite of two days,
To abate her grief, and tune her ſoul to joy;
[27]While, as he knows his own unbridled will,
Which like a whirlwind bears down all before it,
He hath withdrawn himſelf from the ſerrail,
To waſte the tedious ſpace in ſolitude,
At * Sakara upon the bank of Nile;
Where I muſt now attend him, by command.
Thou Caled to thy charge repair, and know
That any who attempt to paſs thy watch,
Within the palace wards, muſt die. Farewel.
Caled.

Adieu, and fear not Caled's ſtricteſt duty.

exeunt ſeverally.
Manet HAMET.
Hamet.
Oh! I am well repaid for thirty years
Of brave and faithful ſervices, diſplaced
For a vile pandar. True indeed, I ne'er
Have raviſhed virgins from their bridegroom's arms,
To gratify his ſatyr's luſt—I warred
With men, not maids; and oft in heat of battle
At peril of my own have ſaved his life.
But that is paſt—his kingdom is at peace,
He does not want me now; and like his armour,
I am left to ruſt, too cumbrous to be worn.
Enter ABDALLAH.
Hamet.
Welcome, my antient, and approved friend,
Thou comeſt in proper time to lend me aid
And comfort with thy philoſophic counſel.
Thou art the man on earth I wiſhed to ſee—
Thy friendly tongue hath oft adviſed beware
[28]The dangerous ſhoals and rocks which frequent lurk
Beneath the tide of royal favour—Now,
Behold me ſtuck aground, ſhipwrecked indeed!
Abdallah.
Thy adverſe fate ſincerely I lament,
Thy well-proved merit claims this tribute grief.
But oh! my friend, a nearer, higher ſorrow
Now fills up all my thoughts—A father's anguiſh
For an only child! My loſt Amana!
Hamet.
Say, what of her? My dear, unhappy friend!
Has the deſtroying angel torn her from thee,
And veiled her beauties in the ſilent tomb?
Abdallah.
Had fate demanded her, I were reſigned—
But oh! ſhe ſtill ſurvives, a ſacrifice
To brutal force, unleſs thy generous aid
Shall join to reſcue her from vile pollution.
Hamet.
By this good ſword, which never yet hath failed me,
In hotteſt battle, even by Hamet's life,
Or what is dearer ſtill, his unſtained honour,
I ſwear I will redeem the virtuous maid,
Or failing, periſh in the attempt.
Abdallah.
Enough—
But ſee the monſter Caled nigh approaches—
Let us retire, and plan the generous purpoſe.
Hamet.

The die is caſt—my life upon the hazard.

exeunt.
Enter CALED, as they are going out.
Caled.
Amana's father, in diſcourſe with Hamet!
I like not that—perhaps they plot my ruin.
I ſtand on ſlippery ground. My elevation
Was too precipitate; and like the pine,
[29]Whoſe haſtened growth outſtrips its ſlender girth,
Each blaſt alarms me, and I ſhrink my head.
Old Hamet's well earned poſt, and long worn honours,
He hath reſigned with ſilence and ſubmiſſion,
Unlike a ſoldier conſcious of his worth;
Therefore I doubt not deep within his heart
He will retain the ſenſe of injury,
Which like an inward wound will rankle there,
'Till it break out and ſhew the putrefaction.
Tho' freed from bondage, yet a ſlave to fear,
That worſt of tyrants, I am wretched ſtill.
His ſteps I muſt attend with cautious eye,
Quickened by malice—For whom we have wronged,
'Tis natural to fear, and thence, to hate.
exit.

SCENE, NOURADIN's apartment.

He lying on a couch.
Nouradin.
This feveriſh grief, and torturing expectation,
Drink up my blood, my boſom is on flame,
My nerves ſhrunk up, and I ſhall firſt expire
Before Abdallah comes to tell me—What?
What can he tell me! Save that my Amana
Is dead—or worſe—a victim to diſhonour!
His frigid age feels not a lover's pains,
Nor can the fondneſs of a thouſand fathers,
In nature or degree, compare with mine.
Enter ABDALLAH.
Abdallah.

Ariſe, my ſon, and let thy ſoul taſte hope.

Nouradin.
Thou doſt not mock me ſure, oh! quickly ſpeak,
[30]Say does ſhe live, and free from brutal ſtain?
Have thy bleſt eyes beheld the unſullied maid?
Oh! ſay may ſhe again be mine! My wife?
Abdallah.
I have not ſeen her, but I know ſhe lives,
And dwells in innocence; and may, I hope,
Again be thine—The friend I told thee of,
Hath proved his worth, and with his utmoſt power,
Hath promiſed to aſſiſt the bold adventure,
Therefore prepare to quit this curſed land,
Where tyranny is law; and innocence
Can find no ſafety, but in haſty flight.
If we ſucceed in reſcuing Amana,
My native country ſhall afford us refuge;
But if ſucceſsleſs in the brave attempt,
Our ſolace be that we ſhall die in virtue.
Nouradin.
Oh! I am all impatience for the tryal:
To live with her were happineſs indeed!
But if my fate that bleſſing ſhall deny,
Death is its next beſt gift. Now ſpeak the means.
Abdallah.
Know then, the tyrant, whether thro' compaſſion,
Or ſtill in hope to ſoothe her to compliance,
Hath granted her two days to wean her ſorrow,
To conquer nature, and ſubmit to fate;
During which interval he hath retired
To Sakara, whence like an epicure,
Faſting from beauty to increaſe appetite,
He, like an hungry glatton, may return,
And feaſt his quickened ſenſe with fuller guſt.
Nouradin.
O! may the graſp of death firſt ſeize his heart,
And caſt him forth a prey to ravening vultures!
Abdallah.
[31]
To diſappoint his vicious purpoſe, know,
My antient friend, the kind, the generous Hamet,
Late captain of his guard, now ſubaltern
To impious Caled, from a twofold reaſon,
Impelled by friendſhip's ties, and juſt diſdain,
On being thus diſgraced to pay the hire
Of helliſh deeds, of rape and treachery,
Will introduce thee in the Sultan's robes,
His yearly perquiſite, at duſk of even,
To the ſeraglio, to Amana's ward;
From whence, by means which Hamet ſhall direct,
Thou may'ſt deſcend into the garden, where
I ſhall be ſtationed to receive my children,
And thro' a private portal ſtraight convey
A treaſure richer than the crown of Egypt.
From thence to happy England let's repair,
That land of liberty, and wealth, and valour.
Nouradin.
Whether indeed thou rav'ſt of that bleſt clime,
In meer Eutopian dream, I cannot ſay,
But this I dare pronounce, that with Amana,
A deſart would ſupply that heaven on earth,
My paradiſe below, is love and virtue.
Abdallah.
Within this hour Hamet will doubtleſs bring
The ſafe diſguiſe, by him thou muſt be led.
But oh! when thou beholdeſt thy Amana,
Beware, my ſon, of dalliance, ſuffer not
A lover's fondneſs diſappoint his wiſhes:
Loſe not the important moment, but remember
Each inſtant's precious to thy life, and her's.
Nouradin.
Oh! that the hour were come! fear not, Abdallah.
[32]If Nouradin's fond arms once more enfold her,
Again behold that face, that form divine,
No power on earth ſhall ever force her from me,
And leave me life to plain, as I do now.
Abdallah.
Alas, my ſon, I doubt not of thy proweſs,
It is thy fondneſs which I fear; that weakneſs,
Which only brave men know; and while it ſinks
Their ſpirit as a vain preſumptuous man,
Exalts it to the ſoftneſs of a ſeraph.
Nouradin.
Were but my life, my happineſs, at ſtake,
Well might'ſt thou doubt the weakneſs of my virtue,
Againſt Amana's charms—But where her ſafety
Becomes the queſtion, I can turn a ſtoic;
Scarcely indulge my raviſhed eyes to gaze,
Or raptured hand to feaſt upon her touch,
'Till I reſtore her to her father's arms,
Abdallah.
O! may the bleſſings of a mutual love,
Light on you both: let me but ſee you ſafe
Beyond the tyrant's luſt, or violence,
And all the buſineſs of my life is o'er.
exeunt.

SCENE, the ſeraglio.

Enter AMANA and FATIMA.
Amana.
Unhappy fair! I pity thy ſad fate,
Tho' quite unlike my own. I never thought
The chaſte, the tender love that women feel,
Could e'er be won by outward form of man.
Beauty's our own peculiar character,
Their's, ſenſe and learning, bravery and honour:
Deſire and admiration are their rôle;
Eſteem, ſubmiſſion, gratitude are ours.
Fatima.
[33]
Sure in ſome northern climate thou wert born,
Where Cupid, as the poets repreſent him,
Is but a child indeed—A playful god—
His darts unvenomed, and unnerved his arm.
Not ſo he took poſſeſſion of my heart;
But ſhot himſelf, with his whole train of ills,
Into my glowing breaſt: thou happy fair,
Wert formed to inſpire the paſſion in its rage,
Thy heart inſenſible to all its pangs.
Amana.
Alas! thou art deceived: Amana's heart
Feels all the fond ſolicitudes of love:
But then it was thy chaſte, thy generous paſſion,
Unhappy Nouradin! that lighted up
The flame in my cold boſom, which with life
Alone ſhall be extinguiſhed.
Fatima.
Hapleſs maid!
Here I return thy pity twenty fold—
Alas, thou art more wretched than myſelf—
I have but one concern—with mutual warmth
To inſpire the Sultan's breaſt—while doubly vexed,
Thou haſt a love debarred, and one to ſhun.
The Caliph's fate and mine exact the ſame;
Purſuing, fled from, meeting hate for love.
Amana.
Curſt be his paſſion, curſt his vicious love,
And doubly curſt the hour he ſaw Amana!
Oh! that deformity would ſpread its veil
Over theſe few but ill-ſtarred charms! To avoid
His brutal paſſion I would e'en forego
The chaſte, the tender love of Nouradin;
Or truſt to conſtancy to inſure his faith.
[34]Or that the ſudden hand of death would ſeize
My captive limbs, and reſcue my free ſoul
From the more dreaded tyrant. Some way yet,
I will eſcape—Deſpair point out the means!
Fatima.
If thou indeed hate Oſmin more than death;
And art yet unprovided of the means
To ſhun his loathed embrace, I may, perhaps,
Aſſiſt thy frenzy; but, unhappy fair one,
Weigh well the deſperate deed; for once begun,
It were too late to ſave thee from thy folly.
Thou might'ſt indeed rob Fatima of life,
But nought of mortal aid could reſcue thine.
Amana.
O! do not judge ſo poorly of Amana,
To think that ſhe could ever be induced
To wrong her kind deliverer—Here I vow,
No rack ſhall wreſt the ſecret from my lips,
Which with their lateſt breath ſhall bleſs thy ſervice.
Fatima.
My mother was well ſkilled in nature's lore;
And this ſmall vial dying ſhe bequeathed me,
Saying, that ſhould this world of teeming ills,
E'er load my life with woes too ſtrong for ſufferance,
I need but quaff this draught, and ready death
Within an hour would ſwallow up my pains—
Accept it then, for wretched as I am,
Even loſt to hope, I dare not wiſh to die.
Amana.
With gratitude ſincere I thank thee for it—
Welcome thou anodyne of human cares!
I'll place thee near my heart; for oh! 'tis thou,
And thou alone, I fear, can'ſt give it reſt.
Now, hated Oſmin, I defy thy vice,
[35]In ſpite of thee I ſhall eſcape diſhonour.
Wafted on air my unſtained ſoul ſhall fly,
And ſeek its native manſion in the ſky;
A bower of bliſs for Nouradin prepare,
And deck it with the choiceſt garlands there;
Await his coming for a little ſpace,
Then live for ever in his chaſte embrace.
End of the Third Act.

ACT IV.

SCENE, A Gothic building, repreſenting the palace of Sakara.

Enter OSMIN and NARDIC.
Oſmin.
HOW poor is greatneſs, and how weak is power!
When a fond girl ſhall dare reſiſt my will,
And yield that love which I in vain ſollicit,
To a plebeian, to an abject ſlave,
Low as the groveling worm on which I tread,
Compared to Oſmin's wealth, his rank, his birth.
My word may render that mean wretch unhappy,
But cannot make me bleſt—Even in my arms
The adverſe fair will ſigh for Nouradin,
And curſe the tyrant for the unwilling joy.
Nardic.
And what avail her curſes, while her charms
Shall gratify my ſovereign's fond deſire,
And feaſt his every ſenſe?
Oſmin.
[36]
Away—away—
I am ſurfeited of ſenſe, want higher guſt,
Which love reciprocal alone can yield.
Oh! muſt I never taſte the fond embrace
Of mutual love? The ardour ne'er behold
Of unfeigned paſſion, modeſty alone,
That brighteſt ornament of female beauty,
Reſtraining its exceſs? Muſt I ne'er ſee
The half denying, half conſenting glance
Steal from Amana's eye? I may poſſeſs,
But not enjoy her charms—Dull feaſt!
To gorge a clove-foot ſatyr's appetite!
O! that I could transform my outward ſemblance,
And take the ſhape and garb of Nouradin!
Then might I feel the true extatic joy
Of being preſſed with tranſport to the heart
Of this too lovely, but capricious fair.
The very thought inſpires an half enjoyment.
Nardic.
Then why not practiſe the deceit, my liege?
I have ſeen this Nouradin, when late he came
To ſue a licence out for Mecca's ſhrine,
Whither his filial piety and duty
Inclined him to perform a pilgrimage,
In zeal and honour of his father's ſhade.
He ſeemed a comely youth; in face and perſon
Reſembling much my prince. The leaſt diſguiſe,
In the dun ſhades of night, might gratify
My ſovereign's preſent wiſh: thy fond embrace
Would fill her arms as well as Nouradin.
'Twill make her happy during the deluſion,
[37]And ſave a world of virgin coyneſs: then,
If ſhe be woman, ſhe'll forgive the cheat,
And bleſs the artifice that ſaved her ſhame.
Oſmin.
Haſte then—ſupply me with a merchant's garb,
This night I'll play Amphytrion; abſolved
By gods who ſmile at the fond frauds of love.
I'll enter the ſeraglio, ſteal into
The ſighing fair one's ward, diſguiſe my voice,
And whiſper in her ear, "'Tis Nouradin,
"Thy love, thy huſband! Quick let us enjoy
"Thoſe tranſports which the ſacred prieſt this morn,
"Hath ſanctified by Hymen's virtuous bands.
"Thus, thus, w'ell diſappoint the tyrant's hope."
O the tranſcending joy I then ſhall feel,
When full poſſeſſing all ſhe can beſtow,
I let her know 'tis Oſmin ſhe has bleſſed,
And like another Jove confound her ſenſe
With my full blaze of glory.
Nardic.
I am charmed
At this fair ſcene which opens to thy view,
Such happy thefts exceed thoſe dull enjoyments
Which willing beauty yields. This key conveys
My royal maſter thro' the palace gates,
Unſeen by all his guards. Within an hour,
I will provide a dreſs to ſuit the intent,
Exact the ſame that bridegrooms wear, for ſuch
We muſt ſuppoſe was Nouradin's this morn,
When habited in form to eſpouſe the fair.
And may ſucceſs attend my ſovereign's will,
Equal to his and Nardic's mutual wiſh.
exit.
Oſmin.
Cold and inanimate thou talk'ſt of wiſhes,
[38]Who neither know'ſt the pride of king's diſdained,
Nor the indignance of a thwarted paſſion—
O! could I, like another Phaeton,
But guide the Sun's bright chariot, for a day,
I'd plunge the world in deep and ſudden darkneſs,
Nor aſk for light but from Amana's eyes.
Like him too, once to obtain my ſoul's ambition,
I'd hazard mine, and this whole globe's exiſtence;
For I in truth, could never yet believe
Our lying Imans, or their flattering prophet:
All that I know of bliſs, I will enjoy,
And leave the reſt to chance, or deſtiny.
exit.

SCENE, NOURADIN's Houſe.

Enter NOURADIN in the Sultan's Robes, with HAMET and ABDALLAH.
Hamet.
My friends, I have riſqued my life to aid your cauſe,
And much I fear, but more I hope the event;
Theſe robes of royalty ſit eaſy on thee,
And as thou beareſt a likeneſs to the Sultan,
The guards will ne'er ſuſpect the maſquerade—
But ſhould the leaſt ſuſpicion chance to ariſe
In any of the watch, deep plunge this dagger
In his heart, and ſpeed thy courſe in ſilence.
Nouradin.
If there be ſuch a deity as love,
He will protect and guide me to Amana;
For ſure a fonder votary ne'er bowed
Before his altar in the Cyprian iſle.
Night too will be my friend; accuſtomed ſtill
To ſmile on lovers, ſhe will not refuſe
[39]Her aid to Nouradin. My beating heart
Bounds with prophetic rapture! I ſhall yet
Retrieve the angelic maid from ſoul offence,
And make her future life one ſcene of bliſs.
Abdallah.
I would not wiſh to damp thy virtuous hope,
But much I dread there is an heavy cloud
Hangs o'er our heads, to ſhower down evils on us.
My curſed apoſtaſy hath brought this ruin
On my ill-fated houſe, and my Amana,
With you my ſon, tho' innocent, may ſuffer
For my impiety—So heaven decrees!
Nouradin.
What means Abdallah?
Abdallah.
In the diſtracted moment when my child
Was deemed a ſacrifice to brutal luſt,
And torn from thy deſpairing arms, and mine,
I told thee of my country and religion;
And oh! I told thee—
Nouradin.
I do remember ſomething like a dream;
While on the ground in agony I lay,
You talked methought, in wild phantaſtic viſion,
Of lands of freedom, of a purer faith,
And judgments viſited for ſins derived.
Abdallah.
To thee, my ſon, I might appear to rave,
Born as thou art beneath a tyrant's yoke,
And early taught to bend thy paſſive neck
To arbitrary ſway. The mountain goddeſs
Hath never deigned to mark her footſteps here;
Nor yet hath heaven its ſaving grace extended
To lands of deſpotiſm, and groſs impoſture.
But what I tremble for is, leſt the charms
[40]Of my Ameſtris, opening in their prime
In my Amana, may perhaps induce
The curſe of diſobedience to our law.
Hamet.
Let not thy timorous faith forebode ſuch ills,
Nor ſink the ſpirit of our bold emprize.
For thee or me, the muddy dregs of life,
Are ſcarcely worth the draught. A nauſeous potion!
Therefore, without repining at the paſt,
With calmneſs let us wait the pregnant future,
And whether death or freedom be our lot,
Let us receive the alternative like men.
Abdallah.
My friends, I fear not for myſelf, my life
Hath filled its years; and like a full fed gueſt,
I'd gladly quit the banquet, and depend
On penitence ſincere for future bliſs.
But oh! I dread leſt thoſe, much dearer to me,
Than all the joys of earth combined, may ſtarve,
Like dowerleſs children of a ſpendthrift father,
For my extravagance and luxury.
Nouradin.
Forbear theſe ſad reflections—If high heaven,
Whoſe juſtice with the tendereſt mercy tempered,
Preſides o'er all its works, if it regard
The ways of man, its juſtice will pronounce
Amana mine, and in its goodneſs will
Reſtore her to my fond and faithful arms.
Hamet.
Prophetic be thy hope—This ſilver key,
The laſt remaining badge of Hamet's greatneſs,
None but the mighty Nardic hath another,
And he moſt luckily attends the Sultan,
Will open every gate within the palace.
[41]Beneath the garden wall we'll wait for thee—
If thou eſcapeſt we ſhall be free, if not,
This dagger ſhall releaſe my bonds—Farewel.
exit.
Nouradin.
The ſervent bleſſings of a grateful heart,
Raiſed from the depth of ſorrow into joy,
Dwell ever round thee, and protect thy age.
looking after him.
But why that heavy gloom upon thy brow,
Ill-boding to our hopes, as low'ring clouds
In days of harveſt, to the rural ſwain?
to Abdallah.
Abdallah.
From threeſcore years of tedious diſappointment,
I have been taught that hope is the true curſe
Of Tantalus; and when the flattering draught
Seems juſt to touch our lips, ſome ſullen ſprite
Daſhes the ſtream aſide, and makes us feel
Our griefs increaſed, by bordering on joy.
Therefore I bid thy inexperience fear.
Nouradin.
Thy philoſophic lore I'll ſtrive to learn,
When my tumultuous paſſions are at peace;
Then only can it rule the human heart:
The rudder's uſeleſs in a ſtorm, muſt yield
To raging billows, and reſiſtleſs winds,
Whilſt the ſcared pilot ſtands in mute deſpair.
But to our holy prophet here I kneel,
To bleſs my little bark with proſperous gales—
Let but Amana be the precious freight,
No other treaſure ſhall I wiſh on board,
Or care what courſe we ſteer—Poſſeſſed of her,
All climes, all nations are the ſame to me.
Where-e'er ſhe ſmiles a paradiſe will bloom,
And every withered herb breathe rich perfume;
[42]Fruits will ſpontaneous grow beneath her eyes,
And flowers to deck her bed will gladly riſe.
exeunt.

SCENE, the Garden of the Seraglio.

Enter AMANA and FATIMA.
Amana.
My ſpirits are attuned to peace and harmony,
And now with tendereſt pity I bemoan
Thy ill-placed love—Surely I think there is
A curſe attends that paſſion in our ſex,
And ſhe alone is bleſt whoſe equal pulſe
Beats undiſturbed, in ſenſeleſs apathy.
Fatima.
O! ſay not ſo—It is the balm of life,
And even its pains delightful—What muſt then,
Its pleaſures be! But thoſe, alas! I fear,
I ne'er again ſhall know.
Amana.
Do not deſpair—
When the firſt tumults of the Caliph's rage,
For my eſcape, are paſt, then may'ſt thou hope.
By arts of ſoothing tenderneſs, once more
To ſteal into his heart, and win his love.
By ſoft indulgence to his preſent paſſion,
Thou may'ſt revive the former in his breaſt,
And thus regain the empire thou haſt loſt.
She who would pleaſe proud man, muſt not diſdain
The loweſt methods to attain her purpoſe:
Humility's the garb in which their ſex
The moſt delight to ſee us dreſſed—By this,
Their vain ſuperiority is ſhewn,
And our dependent ſtate upon their wills.
Fatima.
[43]
Thy calm expreſſions raiſe my utmoſt wonder!
Thou can'ſt not ſurely, mean to die e'er long,
Yet talk with ſuch reflection and compoſure!
Amana.
My ſoul is fixed, and therefore am I calm.
Did hope or fear perplex this conſtant breaſt,
The ſtrong emotions could not be concealed.
What can I hope, from luſt and tyranny?
Or what have I to fear, who in that hour
When I was forced from my fond huſband's arms,
Loſt the laſt glimpſe of happineſs below!
For thee alone, my generous Nouradin,
And my unhappy father, do I feel.
O! Fatima, this thought hath rouſed ſenſations,
Which I could wiſh had ſlept—I am, alas!
I feel it now, a weak, a very woman!
Fatima.
Unhappy fair! thou ſpeak'ſt too modeſtly—
No Greek or Roman ever yet recorded,
Hath ſhewn leſs fear, or more contempt of death.
If in the hour of trial, thy firm ſoul
Support thee thus, thou art a prodigy!
Amana.
It will not then forſake me. I am armed
With innocence; and none but guilty ſouls
Should fear, or heſitate at death's approach.
My father will rejoice at my eſcape;
And even thy grief, my faithful Nouradin,
Will ſoften into tenderneſs and peace,
By knowing I am happy—My loved ſhade
Thou wilt invoke, thy guardian ſeraph then!
Whilſt I with joy ſtill hovering o'er thy head,
Shall guide thy footſteps in the paths of bliſs.
Fatima.
[44]
Amazing fortitude! Sure angels prompt,
And will reward thy virtue. But behold,
The ſetting ſun hath warned us to retire—
Soft reſt, and pleaſing viſions bleſs thy ſlumbers.
Amana.
Adieu, my friend, may every happineſs
Thou prayeſt for me, await thee in return;
May Oſmin, ſince it is thy wiſh, reſtore
That aliened heart which thou haſt bought ſo dear.
exit Fatima.
My ſenſes are oppreſſed—Within this bower
I will indulge their bent—Spirits benign!
Who rule o'er duſk and dawn, watch and protect me
From all the dangers of the ſullen night—
And O! if virgin thoughts as pure as ſnow,
May hope for favour from ye, ſend a dream
Of Nouradin, my loſt, my hapleſs lord!
Let him be preſent to my ſleeping eyes,
Whom waking I ſhall never more behold,
Or in theſe faithful arms again enfold;
In gentleſt whiſpers let him breathe his love,
Then ſighing leave me like the widowed dove.
End of the Fourth Act.

ACT V.

SCENE before the Palace.

Enter the SULTAN diſguiſed.
Oſmin.
I Have ſafely paſſed thro' all the ſeveral gates,
And windings of theſe ſpacious courts, and trod
[45]In paths I never traced before—This door
Leads into the ſerrail, and brings me near
The ſummit of my joy—Why do I not
Anticipate my bliſs, feel all o'er rapture?
No—I deſpiſe myſelf for ſuch mean arts,
To put on this diſguiſe, and counterfeit
A vaſſal's ſemblance thus, to gain—a Woman!
Curſe on the vulgar paſſion that enſlaves us,
Which ever is at war with reaſon's laws,
And ſo fortuitous, we ſcarcely find
Two hearts united in one mutual flame,
While adverſe loves ſtill joſtle one another.
Oh! 'tis the plague of man—and woman too.
But what are they? The very ſport of nature;
Formed ſolely for our uſe, like the fair flower
That blooms but to be cropt, then caſt away.
Now let me haſte to rifle its perfume,
Then loath the withering ſtalk.
opens the door, out of which Caled. ruſhes and draws his ſword.
Ha! what art thou!
Caled.
Beyond my wiſh, beyond my utmoſt hope,
This lucky incident hath intervened—
I thank thee, gracious Alha! thou poor wretch,
As thou haſt raiſed, art bent to fix my fortunes.
Thy head ſhall ſhower down honours upon mine.
This inſtant I'll convey it to the Sultan,
Who highly will reward me for the prize.
Oſmin.
What means the frantic ſlave? Avaunt, and know
Thy Sultan ſtands before thee—Quick retire,
Or inſtant death ſhall quit thy inſolence.
Caled.
Think'ſt thou thy ravings can affect my brain?
[46]The ſhades of night are not ſo far advanced,
But I can ſpy the heroe Nouradin,
Who for a girl's caprice, ſo bravely ſtruck
His late dependant, his ſuperior now.
The conference 'twixt Hamet and Abdallah,
I gueſſed might be for ſome ſuch hopeful purpoſe,
And therefore, quite beyond my line of duty,
I have attended to this paſs; and now
Shall make thy bridal robes thy funeral weeds.
Reſiſtance all is vain, therefore ſubmit.
Oſmin.

Thus then I recompence thy officious duty.

they fight, are both wounded, and fall.
Caled.
Thou haſt reached my heart, but well I think my ſword
Hath met with thine—Thou ſhalt not triumph long,
Nor reap the fruits of thy rebellion—Oh!
dies.
Oſmin.
Too ſure his weapon has been buſy here—
My heart impatient of the leaſt controul,
Full of indignant rage oppoſed its point,
And now I bleed to death. Oh! the diſgrace,
The ſhame that will attend my memory,
When I am found diſguiſed, and by a ſlave
O'erpowered, in mean attempt to win a vaſſal!
This—this wounds deeper than the fatal ſteel.
Curſe on the wayward ſex—Curſe my tame folly—
And oh! Curſe—
dies.

SCENE, An Apartment in the Seraglio.

Enter NOURADIN, in the Sultan's Robes.
Nouradin.
To that bleſt providence which hitherto
Hath led my unerring ſteps thro' all the turns
[47]And mazes of this palace, I with awe
And reverential gratitude, here bend.
O! power benign! continue thy protection,
And grant the arduous enterprize ſucceſs.
Unleſs my ſpeech betray me, the deep gloom,
Which now involves the world, will ſafe conceal
The honeſt fraud. Hamet deſired me ſtrike
Thus on the floor, when I would be attended.
he ſtamps, and enter a female attendant.
Go bring Amana to my preſence ſtraight,
And upon pain of death, let none elſe enter.
exit attendant.
To gain this mighty realm I'd not endure,
But for another day, the ſtrong emotions
Of hope and fear, which agitate my mind.
But 'tis an higher prize than wealth or power,
That ſtirs up my ambition—'Tis Amana,
Whoſe love rewards my hazard and my pains.
I had forgot that Hamet bid me enter
The cloſe pavilion at this gallery's end;
Where Oſmin ſtill employs his vacant hours,
In amorous dalliance with the alternate fair;
And whither none uncalled, dare come. 'Tis here—
going to the ſide of the ſtage.
I cannot calm my ſpirits—My full heart
Beats at my breaſt, as if to force a paſſage
To my beloved, my betrothed Amana—
An univerſal tremor ſhakes my frame!
Sure 'tis the approaching joy of ſeeing her,
That makes this tumult here. I muſt, I will
Indulge [...]y flattered ſoul in the fond triumph
Of ſeeing her diſdainful hate of Oſmin,
[48]Quick change to tendereſt love for Nouradin.
Would this important hour were paſt—
I will retire, and wait the wiſhed event.
enters the pavilion.

SCENE draws, and diſcovers Amana in a Bower, riſing from a Couch. The Attendant waiting.

Amana.
Why did you wake me from the ſweeteſt ſleep
I ever yet enjoyed? My Nouradin
Soft called Amana, bid me riſe and walk;
Straight I obeyed, and on he led my ſteps
To the Elyſian fields; or if there be
A place more beautiful, 'twas there—While he
With converſe fond, but chaſte, engaged my ear,
And ſighed out vows of never ceaſing love.
He promiſed too, that we ſhould part no more,
But ſmile at tyranny, and death defie.
Oh! 'twas a dear deluſion!
Attendant.
'Twas no more—
The Sultan has this moment ſummoned you
To attend his pleaſure in the cloſe pavilion;
Elſe I had not diſturbed your happy ſlumber.
Amana.
The Sultan, ſaid you? What! is he returned!
Did he not promiſe me a poor two days,
And is this pittance now curtailed to half?
But what's a day, a week, a year, to me,
Whoſe fate's already fixed, and ſoul reſolved!
Then why ſhould I reſent this breach of faith,
Or ſtart at haſtening from the griefs I feel,
And ſpeeding to the land of peace and reſt?
Retire a while, I ſhall obey the Sultan.
Attendant retires to the back of the ſcene.
[49]Now, now, Amana, ſummon all thy courage—
What means this chilling damp that clings around me!
Why do I tremble thus! my tottering limbs
Why ſhould they now refuſe their wonted aid!
A little longer, and I ſhall not want it;
But pale and cold ſtretched on my parent earth,
No longer be a burthen to myſelf.
Can love of life have power o'er the unhappy!
Or ſhall a wretch who languiſhes in priſon,
Refuſe to be ſet free? The inſtinctive voice
Perhaps of nature, pleads too ſtrongly here,
And ſilences the ſtiller pleas of virtue.
But cannot love inſpire my timid ſex?
Shall I be led a willing ſacrifice
To gratify a mean and groſs deſire!
O never! Death has loſt its terrors now.
This cordial draught ſhall lead me to his arms,
To peace and Nouradin—
drinks.
'Tis done, and now,
Fear, hope, and every paſſion of the ſoul,
Are all extinct, but love—That ſtill remains,
And in my lateſt moments will prevail
In prayers and bleſſings on my Nouradin.
What ſtrengthening power hath braced my ſinews thus?
'Tis love, 'tis hope, 'tis immortality!
Lavinia come—Attend me to the Sultan.
exeunt.

SCENE, The Pavilion. The Stage darkened.

NOURADIN alone.
Enter AMANA, and Attendant, the latter retires.
Nouradin.
Approach, my fair, nor longer now delay
Thy ſuppliant monarch's bliſs, whoſe fond impatience
[50]Hath urged him to infringe his royal word,
And make a ſacrifice to love, tranſcending far
What he requeſts from thee. Reduce him not
To win by force, what he would owe to favour—
Believe me the rich bounties of thy love,
Shall not be ſpent on my ſole luxury,
But treaſured in my heart, to be repaid
With grateful uſe, to purchaſe joys for thee.
Amana.
Baniſh thoſe vicious hopes, and know that I
Nor dread thy power, nor ſupplicate thy pity.
Thou ſee'ſt no more the weeping, trembling maid,
Who late implored thy grace—But one who comes
To dare thy rage, and prove its impotence.
Nouradin.

Whence comes this boaſt? What means the frantic fair!

Amana.
She means to pour out her whole ſoul before thee,
Its love, its hate, without diſguiſe or fear;
To curſe thee tyrant from her wounded heart,
And breathe forth fervent wiſhes for thy rival.
May every joy of which thou haſt deprived him,
Be doubled tenfold by all gracious heaven;
May long and happy days attend him here,
And may we meet again in that bleſt place,
Where tyrants ne'er can come, to part us more.
Nouradin.
Thy prayers are propheſies, my virtuous bride!
Behold thy fondeſt wiſhes are fulfilled,
And underneath this hated garb thou ſee'ſt
The happy Nouradin! O! let me preſs
Thy conſtant heart cloſe to his faithful breaſt.
Amana.

Oh!

ſhrieks, and faints.
Nouradin.
She faints! the ſtrong ſurprize hath overpowered
[51]Her delicate and agitated frame—
Awake, my love—My ſoul's immortal joy
Revive, and bleſs me with a look, a word!
Amana.

Oh Nouradin! fly, fly this hated place—

Nouradin.
Come let me bear thee in theſe longing arms,
Convey thee quick from out theſe curſed walls,
And give thee back to love and liberty.
Amana.
Alas! my bounds are ſet! I ne'er ſhall quit
This fatal ſpot, 'till ſoul and body part.
Nouradin.
Doſt thou indeed refuſe to go with me!
Has bondage then ſuch charms, or has thy tongue
Belied thy heart in feigning generous love,
To enhance thy ſacrifice to princely grandeur?
Amana.
O! ceaſe to wound me by unkind ſuſpicion!
My heart is wholly thine—The laſt ſad drops
It e'er ſhall weep, will be fond tears for thee.
Nouradin.
Why then, thou angel maid, wilt thou provoke
Our adverſe fate, by this ill-timed delay?
Amana.
Alas! I fear to tell what muſt be known,
For now ten thouſand fires rage in my boſom,
Oh Nouradin!
Nouradin.
I am on the rack! what mean theſe ſtrong convulſions!
Speak quickly, my heart's love—I am all diſtraction.
Amana.
That pang is paſt; and if my ſtrength will hold,
I'll tell thee the ſad tale of woe.
Nouradin.
O ſtay!
Whilſt thou haſt eaſe let me convey thee hence.
Amana.
Alas, my love! it is impoſſible.
Death riots in my veins.
Nouradin.

Death! Said you death!

Amana.
[52]
Too ſure he has poſſeſſion of my heart,
Thy only rival there! O Nouradin!
He graſps me hard, wilt thou not ſtruggle with him!
Nouradin.
I would contend with the united world,
To ſave my more than life. But ſay, O! ſay,
How cameſt thou thus! I preſs, yet dread to know.
Amana.
When torn from thee, and my unhappy father,
And led a captive to the foul ſerrail,
I firm reſolved to die e'er flames impure
Should blaſt this ſhrine, hallowed to love, and thee.
A rival ſultaneſs approved my vow,
And whether moved by jealouſy or pity,
Supplied the deadly draught which late I drank,
When ſummoned to attend the tyrant's will,
In this lewd ſcene of infamy and vice.
Now, now, I feel its baneful influence
Too ſtrong for mortal powers—
Nouradin.
O holy prophet!
Exchange my life for her's!
Amana.
O Nouradin!
Forgive this fatal raſhneſs—Had I ſtaid
A few ſhort moments, we had now been bleſt;
But wreſting from the hand of providence
The means of my eſcape, we both are wretched.
But love and virtue called, and here reſigned,
I fall a ſacrifice to heaven, and thee—
Oh!
dies.
Nouradin.
Speak on, tho' every word thy lips may utter,
Be daggers here—Yet O! Speak on, and live!
And art thou ſilent then! Shall I ne'er hear
Thy tender, tuneful voice once more! Nay then,
[53]No other mournful tale ſhall ever vex
My wounded ear, or grieve my tortured breaſt.
Thus, from all future anguiſh am I free!
My life, my ſoul ſhall follow my Amana.
ſtabs himſelf, and dies.
Enter NARDIC, and FATIMA, with Lights.
HAMET and ABDALLAH, guarded.
Nardic.
The Sultan's ſlain—Secure thoſe hoary traitors—
The rack ſhall force them to reveal their crimes—
What's here! Another Oſmin dead! and by him
The fair Amana!
Abdallah.

O! my unhappy children!

Hamet.
Then all is at an end—Now Nardic, know
I plotted not the Caliph's death; but ſought
That maid's releaſe; and in thoſe royal robes
I gained admittance for that injured youth—
How heaven hath countermined our honeſt purpoſe,
I cannot ſay; but this I know, that I
Am ready to reſign a life, which both
My years, and this world's baſe ingratitude,
Have now made ſtale, and abſynth to my ſenſe.
Nardic.
Convey him to the dungeon, and the wheel.
Doſt thou know aught of this ſad tragedy?
to Fatima.
Fatima.
My ſtrong remorſe, alas! too plainly ſhews
I am in part, an actor in this ſcene;
Tho' wholly guiltleſs of the Sultan's death.
How far concerned in this cataſtrophé,
When the fierce paſſions which now tear my ſoul,
Will give me leave, I ſhall with truth relate.
Abdallah.
O! turn your vengeance on this guilty wretch!
[54]'Tis I am the curſt ſource of all theſe ſorrows—
My darling child that now lies dead before you,
Was ſacrificed by me—Curſe on this head,
And theſe grey hairs, which have involved you both,
In guilt like mine.
kneeling over the dead bodies.
Nardic.
Thy wretchedneſs, old man,
Hath turned thy brain—How could thy feeble arm
Have power to bring theſe dread events to paſs?
Abdallah.
Not mine indeed, but heaven's avenging hand
Hath ſtruck this heavy blow—The Sultan's vice
Hath earned his fate—For tyranny ſhould bleed!
But theſe unhappy innocents were doomed
For my foul crimes, my vile apoſtaſy;
For quitting heaven, and native liberty—
Let thoſe who dwell in Albion's happy land,
Grateful acknowledge heaven's moſt bounteous hand:
Its choiceſt boon in freedom is beſtowed,
And their beſt praiſe to its protector owed;
Who not in Britain's cauſe alone ſuſtains
The toils of council, and of hoſtile plains:
The world's great champion, born for all mankind,
In whom the oppreſſed a certain refuge find:
Whoſe ſword, but like the lancet, wounds to heal,
Where moral lenitives can nought avail;
Whoſe olive bearing laurel peace reſtores,
And calms the diſcord of contending powers.
FINIS.
Notes
*
The plain of the Mummies, near Kairo.
Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License
Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3838 Amana A dramatic poem By a lady. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5D05-7