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THE FAIR CIRCASSIAN. A TRAGEDY.
[Price 1s. 6d.]
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THE FAIR CIRCASSIAN. A TRAGEDY. AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, DRURY-LANE,
BY THE AUTHOR OF SYMPATHY, A POEM.
LONDON: PRINTED FOR R. BALDWIN, NO. 47, PATER-NOSTER ROW. M DCC LXXXI.
TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE OF WALES.
[]SIR,
YOU are of an age when the heart opens to the moſt warm and generous impreſſions; an age, when all that gives worth and dignity to elevated rank, takes full poſſeſſion of the boſom. At this bright and unprejudiced criſis of your life, the precepts of Omar and the practice of Hamet, as drawn by Hawkeſworth, and dramatiſed by the author of this tragedy, will win upon your attention; not indeed by the attraction of poetry, but by the natural reverence which unſpotted youth ever renders, and with delight, to faithful [ii]repreſentations of wiſdom and of virtue; the wiſdom of the patriot, the virtue of the prince.
That your Royal Highneſs may very long reflect bleſſings on the people of Eng⯑land, and prove a diſtinguiſhed honour to the illuſtrious family who have that gene⯑rous people in charge, is the zealous prayer, as it is the moſt empaſſioned expecta⯑tion, of
YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS's Moſt devoted, And moſt dutiful ſervant, THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE.
[]THIS tragedy borrows its general ſtory, and ſome of its incidents, with as much of its ſentiment as could be preſerved, from the very beautiful "Almoran and Hamet" of Hawkeſworth. Except that truth and juſtice call for ſuch acknowledgement, it would on any other ſcore have been unneceſſary; for what can be added to the fame of a work univerſally celebrated? The original machinery has been rejected, becauſe it would have been too daring an attempt to interweave it with the fable of a modern compoſition, and perhaps too mighty a taſk to manage without violating the firſt great law of dramatick probability. At the ſame time, it has been the authour's moſt aſſiduous endeavour, to "convert the ſententious diſ⯑play of eaſtern wiſdom, as far as character would permit, into the language of paſſion, varied by every motive which might moſt forcibly affect the human mind in the moſt warm and intereſting ſituations." Theſe are the words of a critick, who ſeems fully to have penetrated the deſign of the author. The lines with inverted com⯑mas were omitted in the repreſentation, to fa⯑vour the rapidity of the action. They are re⯑tained [8]in the printed copy, not more at the inſtance of particular friends, than on general experience that thoſe paſſages which retard the force of the paſſion on the theatre, are frequently read with moſt ſatisfaction in the cloſet.
The Play ſtill continuing to be received on the ſtage with the moſt brilliant ſucceſs, the author would but half diſcharge the debt of equity were he to confeſs obligations to Hawkeſ⯑worth only. The liberal, perhaps the unequalled ſupport which the managers have afforded by the ſcenery, the intereſting manner in which Mr. Linley has ſet the Epithalamium, the taſte of Mr. De Loutherberg, and the ſplendour which the performers have thrown over the characters by their EXCELLENT repreſentation, demand and receive the moſt warm and pointed expreſſions of gratitude. There remains but one tribute of juſtice more, and that is due to Mr. Sheridan, whoſe attention has, on this occaſion, been friendſhip, and whoſe aſſiſtance muſt always be fame.
PROLOGUE
[]WITH trembling ſteps, as if ſuſpicious grown,
Why doth the tragic muſe approach her throne?
Her golden throne, where once with grace divine,
The goddeſs ſat, "ſupreme of all the nine."
Turns her fair palace to the feſtive bower,
Where jeſt and ſport uſurp her nobler power?
Loſt is each lovelier feeling that imparts
To her the ſovereign rule o'er Britiſh hearts?
Sunk the pure taſte which once ſecur'd her ſway,
Or wanes that virtue which admir'd her lay?
Vain fears! A generous race aſſembled here,
Still pay to grief compaſſion's ſofteſt tear;
Still pay the heart-felt ſigh which Britons owe
To nature's feelings, and to nature's woe.
When jealous fiends Othello's heart-ſtrings tear,
When guilty Richard groans with dire deſpair;
When injur'd Lear, with tort'ring anguiſh wild,
Pours the deep curſe on each ungrateful child;
When plaintiff notes ſpeak poor Ophelia's woes,
Or love in Juliet's tender boſom glows;
The gliſtening eye, the trembling lip proclaim
Nature and virtue here are ſtill the ſame.
In ſcepter'd ſtate affliction's ſoothing ſtrain
Still in YOUR boſoms fix their ſtedfaſt reign—
Bleſt ſeat of empire! Where th' affections wait,
To ſhield the mourner from the ſhocks of fate—
Where the beſt paſſions with allegiance fair,
For ſuff'ring worth the healing balms prepare;
Nor ever ſhall your hearts ſuch rights forego;
What ſocial ſorrow aſks, theſe hearts ſhall ſtill beſtow!
No longer then oppreſs'd with anxious fear,
The muſe ſhall REASUME her ſtation here—
Shall court each virtue that's a nation's pride,
And gain the nobler paſſions to her ſide.—
[] If, in the tenour of her penſive lay,
In nature's path, TO NIGHT ſhe holds her way;
If ſhe excites the ſympathiſing mind,
To generous acts, the glory of our kind!
This dread * tribunal, ſhall ſuſpend its zeal,
Spurn its proud office, and grow proud to feel:
This radiant † circle too her hopes approve,
And grace the triumph of the muſe they love!
PROLOGUE
The following prologue, from an honour-giving muſe, of which it is truly worthy, did not arrive till after Mr. Banniſter was put in poſſeſſion of the excellent poetry which precedes it; and which another ingenious friend had been ſollicited to ſupply. The author of the tragedy, however, thinks Miſs Seward's compoſition too valuable to circulate only in manuſcript. Indeed, to keep ſuch verſes out of print, would not only be a private injury to the piece (which they will adorn) but an unpardonable injuſtice to the public.
SLOW from an ebon throne's majeſtic height,
A lovely form deſcends upon my ſight!
The floating purple, and the lofty mien
Proclaim the empreſs of the tragic ſcene,
Divine Melpomene!—Aggriev'd ſhe ſtands,
Her tears faſt falling on her folded hands.
The ſhow'ry cloud thus dims the azure ſkies,
Thus round the moon the miſty halos riſe.
Why, beauteous mourner, ere the hour of woe,
Throb thoſe quick ſighs, thoſe cryſtal ſorrows flow?
Thy Fair Circaſſian yet no griefs moleſt,
Nor love, nor fear aſſail her virgin breaſt!
But ſoft!—the muſe of anguiſh ſadly ſpeaks!
Faint on my ear the murm'ring accent breaks;
[] Low hollow gales its mournful ſounds convey,
And thus the goddeſs ſays—or ſeems to ſay:
"Can then the tender female boſom prove
"A keener pang than diſappointed love?
"Ah me!—For light Thalia more than ſhares
"My darling Sheridan's too partial cares:
"On her vain brows his laviſh wreaths are thrown,
"His thouſand radiant gems emblaze her zone!
"What tho' ſhe gave to his ſupreme command
"Each laughing grace that waits her potent wand,
"Yet with ſublimer force my chemic-fire
"'With proud diſtinction deck'd his ſacred lyre;' *
"To pureſt gold its warbling wires I turn'd,
"When their ſweet lays o'er lifeleſs Garrick mourn'd.
"And once he ſung in † elevated ſtrain
"My charms ſuperior, and my right to reign;
"Then, with the majeſty my impulſe throws
"In chaſten'd ſplendor round the poet's brows,
"He bade the tears that ſtream'd o'er Aſia's queen,
"Flow ſoft in real ſorrow's lonely ſcene.—
"But ſoon he ſmil'd thoſe graceful tears away,
"And faithleſs own'd my frolic rival's ſway.
"Perchance, howe'er, the jocund pride of youth
"Alone has warp'd from me his love and truth;
"Ere long the rover may again be mine,
"And with his blooming laurels deck my ſhrine!
"This night no vulgar hand the meed beſtows,
"That now for me in priſtine beauty glows.—
"Oh! may the foſt'ring breath of public praiſe
"Preſerve from cruel blight the votive bays!"
I hear no more—For, with a penſive ſmile,
Slow glides the muſe down yonder winding iſle!
May you, ye brave and wiſe, ye good and fair,
Fulfil with ſuffrage kind her fervent pray'r!
And ſince no force of wit and comic art
Can ſhut to pity's plaint the Britiſh heart,
We hope your juſt applauſe may bleſs our bard,
His firſt ambition, and his bright reward.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
[]- ALMORAN MR. PALMER.
- HAMET MR. SMITH.
- OMAR MR. BENLLEY.
- ALI MR. PACKER.
- CALED MR. FARREN.
- OSMYN MR. R. PALMER.
- PRINCIPAL IMAN MR. WRIGHTEN.
- ALMEIDA MISS FARREN.
- CRISANTHE MISS SIMPSON.
- ASIATIC AMBASSADORS, GUARDS, EUNUCHS, MUTES, &c.
SCENE PERSIA.
THE FAIR CIRCASSIAN. A TRAGEDY.
[]ACT I.
SCENE I. A BEAUTIFUL GARDEN IN THE ORIENTAL TASTE, WITH SEVERAL RICH PAVILIONS, AND A SIDE VIEW OF A MAGNIFICENT PALACE ADJOINING. THE ROYAL APARTMENTS OPEN INTO THE GARDEN THROUGH A SPLENDID PORTICO.
SCENE I.
ALI, CALED.
ALI.
CALED, behold once more our Perſian court
From twice ſix moons of mourning for the king,
Great Solyman emerge, bright as yon ſun,
From the ſurrounding ſhades of ſable night—
That gorgeous palace re-aſſumes its luſtre,
And theſe pavilions once more breathe around
The ſoul of eaſtern fragrance.
CALED.
[2]Ali, yes;
Hither advance from Aſia's vaſſal ſhores,
Ambaſſadors, high fraught with luſcious burthens,
Till Perſia blooms in flattery: Late they came
With ſolemn homage to condole; and now,
Heaping their laviſh incenſe on our ſhrines,
Congratulation wreathes the ready ſmile.
The ſcene is fair, my friend; but ſoon again
Shall each proud bloſſom of the realm be wither'd.
ALI.
Thou think'ſt that Solyman hath ill bequeath'd
The crown between his ſons.
CALED.
Hath ill bequeath'd!
To bind the warring elements, to fix
In cloſeſt league th' extremes of froſt and fire,
And every oppoſite in nature force
Into reluctant union.—Such, my friend,
Such is the will of Solyman.
ALI.
The king
Was ſcarce entomb'd, ere brooding jealouſies
Broke forth.—Remember'ſt thou the hour
When Omar, with the lords of ſtate around,
The will firſt gave to Almoran? Ye heavens!
How proud the triumph, while with ſubject zeal,
Unconſcious of his fortune Hamet bow'd.
And, oh, what deep abaſement follow'd ſwift
Upon the elder king as Omar drew
From the concealing robe another ſcroll,
That nam'd young Hamet partner of the throne!
CALED.
Prepoſterous diſtribution! thus to leave
A ſplendid ſource of endleſs diſcontent.
ALI.
[3]And this in ſpite of Omar's bearded wiſdom.
CALED.
Omar the ſage, to whom the ſeal of Solyman,
In royal confidence was ſtill reveal'd.
Omar, who trims the lonely lamp of wiſdom,
When half the lazy globe is wrapt in ſlumber.
Omar, the prince's guardian, maſter, oracle;
The proud philoſopher, the ſeer profound;
That he ſhould thus diſpoſe the dotard's ſceptre,
And get the ſtart of men like thee, my Ali.
ALI.
Ali's holy function ſtill protects him
Fom ev'ry rebel murmur of ambition.
CALED.
Ali, 'tis falſe—I know thy temper better.
Like ſome repining ſpirit here thou walk'ſt,
And yon thrice bleſſed orb hath witneſs'd oft,
Thy ſoul's deep ſigh at Omar's better fortune.
Here doſt thou dwindle in the train of courtiers,
At once deem'd inoffenſive, unimportant,
A mitr'd ſlave of Hamet's royal houſehold,
While Omar—
ALI.
Rules half the Perſian empire;
Directs, proſcribes, and governs uncontroul'd.
CALED.
Ali, meantime, with tame dominion, ſways
A band of humble Imans, poor and proſtrate;
Or bids the peaſant tremble at the altar,
As ſuperſtition points the labour'd omen.
O vain pre-eminence of pageant prieſthood,
Compar'd with ſeats ſublime, that Ali's ſoul
Is yet, I truſt the fates, decreed to fill.
ALI.
[4]Forbear, my friend—O Caled, tempt no more;
Wake not the fatal flame I long have ſmother'd:
Already have thy ſtrong ſuggeſtions led
My feet aſtray—Ev'n now, againſt command
Of him I ſerve, of Hamet, and—
CALED.
Of Omar.
ALI.
Well then, of Omar—ſince it muſt be ſo,
Have I contriv'd that Almoran ſhould view
That hidden treaſure of the love-ſick kin,
That fair Circaſſian—
CALED.
Thou haſt, I own it—
There, there, my friend, ſprings up another cauſe
Of rivalry and vengeance.
ALI.
Vengeance!
CALED.
Away with counterfeitings, forc'd diſguiſes—
I've read thy heart. Converſe we then like men
That know each other's bias. Ali, my friend,
My reverend friend, we both are wrong'd and outrag'd:
Me, Hamet, by his miniſter, hath thruſt
From that rich ſun-ſhine where ſo long I baſk'd
In the broad ray of Hamet's royal favour.
THY ſtate is tottering too—inſulted prieſt!
Head of thy tribe no longer then the glance
Of Omar ſhall diſmiſs thee deep degraded—
Now, if no falſe concealments, wayward ſcruples—
ALI.
'Twere beſt confer apart—'tis near the hour
When the Circaſſian lady—
CALED.
[5]See ſhe comes.
With ſpeed retire—
ALI.
Should Hamet or ſhould Omar—
CALED
(going.)
Short be their ſway.—
ALI
(going.)
Much haſt thou mov'd me, Caled.
CALED.
Much are we wrong'd.
ALI.
This way are we ſecure.
Exeunt.
SCENE II.
ALMEIDA, CRISANTHE.
ALMEIDA.
Yes, my Criſanthe, I confeſs it all,
Confeſs that I am happy: Still remembrance
Steals o'er my conſcious heart her ſweet ideas,
And in ſoft viſion charms Almeida's boſom.
CRISANTHE.
And Hamet well deſerves—
ALMEIDA.
Deſerves, Criſanthe!
Not all the laviſh luxury of praiſe
By Imans offer'd at the holy altars;
Not the rich tides of eloquence that roll
Upon the poet's tongue, by every muſe,
And every god inſpir'd, to grace the ſong,
Can pay juſt tribute to the ſoul of Hamet:
[6] 'Tis not my friend the buſy breath of rumour
That pours the doubtful hint into the ear,
The dazzling ſceptre, the effulgent robe,
Nor yet the vollied burſt of public fame
Which ſtamps true ſplendor on the hearts of kings.
Array'd in ALL theſe trappings they may beat
Leſs fair, leſs friendly to the rights of man,
And fill a ſmaller ſpace in nature's circle
Than the poor peaſant toiling at the car,
Monarch of many a private, uſeful virtue,
Without the power, the dangerous power, to prove
A tyrant—o'er the reſt of human kind.
CRISAN THE.
But ev'n th' untutor'd clown delighted talks
Of Hamet's princely virtues.
ALMEIDA.
Oh, he does!
Each hind may ſee the royal ſoul expand
Like ſome etherial light ſupplying fire,
That feeds unnumber'd ſtars with conſtant rays:
But, oh Criſanthe, never can he ſee.
The ſoft enchantments of the tender heart,
Friendſhip's divine effuſion, love's pure flame,
Each grace of life retired.—Theſe ſhine alone
Like ſilent dews that ſhed their balms unheard;
Like planets deep in heaven, that bleſs unſeen
The favour'd few that ſhare the ſacred hour.
CRISANTHE.
The ſacred hour reſerv'd for fair Almeida:
But ſay, my gentle friend—for ſtill delay'd
The tale of wonder—heard but yet in part—
Did he not act like ſome ſuperiour power
When he with vent'rous arm ruſh'd through the flames
To ſave thee from deſtruction?
ALMEIDA.
[7]Like a god,
My guardian god! Hear then, in full, the ſtory.
Midnight had hung the ſilent air in black,
Not one bright ſtar diſplay'd it's beamy brow,
The wat'ry-boſom'd clouds were bent to earth,
When ſwift the deſolating light'ning's flaſh
Spread the far-blazing ruin thro' the palace.
Sudden it ſtruck my venerable ſire:
In vain I preſs'd him in theſe filial arms—
He fell—In that tremendous moment
Came my deliverer, my king, my Hamet,
And reſcu'd child and parent from the flames.
CRISANTHE.
Gracious Heaven!
ALMEIDA.
Soon as fled ſenſe return'd,
I ſaw the gentle, generous, kneeling king
Bent in ſoft ſorrows o'er his wretched charge;
And as the deep confuſion ting'd my cheek
With tender force he ſtrain'd me to his heart;
While good Abdallah, by his care protected,
From all the hurry of the court repoſes;
And ſtill unable as the veteran is
To view the ſun, or move from his pale couch
He cheery laughs, thou know'ſt, the hours away,
Still Hamet or Almeida by his ſide.
CRISANTHE.
Behold the king—The royal lover comes.
ALMEIDA.
Ah, faithful fondneſs—leave us, gentle friend—
Yet ſtay, Criſanthe—Stay, atteſt his kindneſs.
SCENE III.
[8]HAMET, ALMEIDA, CRISANTHE.
HAMET.
Dear, heavenly maid—thou treaſure of my ſoul,
How poor is language to the feeling heart?
Oh, let me thus ſupply the want of words,
Thus ſpeak the tranſports of my wond'rous fondneſs.
ALMEIDA.
How ſhall Almeida mark her gratitude?
Offering to kneel.
HAMET.
Almeida riſe: Oh do not thus o'erpay
The common duties of a common man:
To help the wretched is the debt of nature;
A debt, which every honeſt mind ſhou'd pay
To all that wear the kindred forms of men.
ALMEIDA.
Oh Hamet—Oh my king—if riſing bluſhes—
If theſe reveal not—the obedient ſubject—
HAMET.
Obedient ſubject! moſt unkind Almeida;
Rob not the great prerogative of virtue,
The generous boſom knows no vain ſuperior;
And pitied be the wretch, or king, or ſubject
Who at proud diſtance holds the heart he loves.
ALMEIDA.
Thou haſt ſubdu'd—I can conceal no more:
My humble ſtation bade me long reſtrain
Affection for a prince, for Perſia's king,
But now—
HAMET.
Yes now receive,
Now deign to ſhare my love, my life, my throne.
[9] Oh, witneſs heav'n the glowing exultation,
Witneſs the triumphs of this throbbing heart,
As thus it owns Almeida for a queen.
And yet my brother—
ALMEIDA.
What of him, my lord?
HAMET.
Oh, I have doubts—
ALMEIDA.
Ha! doubts—have doubts my lord?
HAMET.
How ſhall I ſpeak, Almeida, to thy ſoftneſs?
How hope thy pardon for a tender fraud?
By ſome dire chance my brother knows our ſtory,
And, as in jeſt, he tax'd me with concealment,
Deſir'd to view a ſiſter in Almeida.
ALMEIDA.
Where was the fault in this, or where the danger?
HAMET.
At this, a ſudden ſickneſs ſeiz'd my heart;
'Twas plain I lov'd—he pierc'd the thin diſguiſe,
Enjoy'd my pain, and triumph'd in diſcovery.
ALMEIDA.
And what of that? Your feelings are too nice,
Too delicately fine to bear the ſhaft;
Which laughter ever levels at the lover,
Spirits leſs lively meet the mirth with ſmiles,
And wit's pert jeſt falls pointleſs to the ground.
HAMET.
How little doſt thou know the ſoul of Almoran,
That even blazes at the view of beauty;
How wou'd he catch ſoft fury from this hand,
And drink large draughts of paſſion from thoſe eyes?
And then—
ALMEIDA.
[10]What then, my lord?
Haſt thou no credit in Almeida's faith?
Ungenerous prince! the heart that rules this boſom
Courts not the kingly crown, nor ſplendid ſceptre.
Had'ſt thou been born the lowlieſt of the poor,
Still had I ſought alliance with thy virtues,
Still had I ſcorn'd variety of lovers.
HAMET.
I know it all, dear maid; I know it all;
Yet, Almoran—
ALMEIDA.
Can Almoran forget
The ties of nature, or the bonds of honour,
The dear domeſtic duties of the brother,
The awful virtues of the public ſtation,
The law which binds the monarch to the man?
Or if he could, and this ill-fated form
Should chance to touch him with a tranſient paſſion,
What would avail the momentary liking?
Soon would his power o'erlook an humble maid,
And gladly leave her to the partial Hamet.
Or at the worſt—ſhould he purſue Almeida,
Firm in the pure reſolves of virtuous love
Ev'n I, the ſubject daughter of Abdallah,
Bold in her virgin truth, would own her fondneſs,
Aſſert the native freedom of the heart,
Claſp her lov'd lord, and thus avow her paſſion.
HAMET.
Oh, thou dear maid—once more receive my thanks;
embracing.
Receive a willing heart that doats to death!
Forgive the delicate alarms of love:
I have no doubts—my ſickly fears are paſt,
I tread in aether and I breathe in heaven!
I am—oh, all ye Powers—I am moſt bleſt.
ALMEIDA.
[11]My lord, behold—
Seeing Almoran and Caled at a diſtance.
HAMET.
'Tis Almoran with Caled—haſte my love
And ſhield thy beauties from his dangerous gaze,
In this pavilion—Soon he will be gone,
Ah! quick retire, and e'er to-morrow's dawn
I will prepare—by heav'n they're here—away.
Hamet conducts Almeida into a pavilion.
SCENE IV.
ALMORAN, CALED.
CALED.
Yonder, my lord, he ſteals.
ALMORAN.
But where the lady?
CALED.
Dread ſire, I ſee her not.
ALMORAN.
Didſt thou not leave him with her?
CALED.
Hypocriſy aſſiſt thy long tried favourite.
aſide.
I left him loſt in one ſoft dream of paſſion,
Invoking every power fantaſtical
To regiſter his vows—then would he kneel,
Her lovely hand embathe with ſigh-ſick tears,
And earneſt preſs it to his glowing boſom;
While ſhe—
ALMORAN.
Go on.
CALED.
Repuls'd his freedom
With a ſweet reſiſtance—and in ſoft coyneſs
Sported with refuſal.
ALMORAN.
[12]Spoke they of me,
Or ought ſuſpects my brother I have ſeen her?
CALED
(looking.)
Methought, my lord, I ſaw in yon pavillion
A female robe that—yes, by heav'n 'tis ſhe.
going up.
Oh powers of heaven! behold, my lord, behold,
See where ſhe walks—what majeſty of mein?
looking out.
What native beauties in her artleſs air?
Soft as the firſt fair breeze that fans the ſpring.
What glories beam even from her downcaſt eye!
While her diſorder wales a new-born charm
As the bloom ripens on her roſy lips!
ALMORAN.
At every glance more lovely than before;
Ne'er did each feature flame ſo full to view,
Caled, by heav'n her eye ſhot ſuns, out-blaz'd
That ſymbol of the God to which we bow.
CALED.
Well may the happy Hamet wiſh to ſcreen
The fair recluſe from each obtruſive eye,
And hide her from an elder brother's gaze.
Ah! heav'n preſerve the ſultan of the world,
My ſovereign labours with ſome ſecret ſorrow;
Oh, that the ſlave could aught adminiſter
To his imperial maſter!
ALMORAN.
Ha! imperial
Said'ſt thou Caled? that I were imperial;
aſide.
My pulſes fever at the glorious thought.
Caled.
CALED.
My lord.
ALMORAN.
[13]I will no more diſguiſe—Caled—hither—
Yet nearer—lov'ſt thou thy ſovereign maſter?
I know thou doſt, I read it in thine eye,
I'll truſt thee—thou ſhalt ſhare a ſecret, Caled,
Denied to every vaſſal but thyſelf.
CALED.
Great ruler of the Eaſt whoſe boundleſs ſway—
proſtrates.
ALMORAN.
Riſe and approach. Still cloſer and attend—
Thrice has the year renew'd the robes of ſpring,
Since from the circling crouds that guard the palace,
An undiſtinguiſh'd multitude of ſlaves,
Thee I mark'd out for favour, bade thee meet
The eye of Almoran without proſtration,
And rank'd thee next to Oſmyn.
CALED.
Next to Oſmyn.
aſide,
ALMORAN.
In thy ſettled look
Firm and unaw'd, I ſaw the aſpiring ſoul
That ſuited well the ſervant of a prince,
Soon to be more—At length my father died,
The throne I mounted—a divided throne.
CALED
(kneeling.)
Eſſence of light and life, aſſiſt my prayer;
Angel of death, quick moulder in the duſt
The officious Omar's bold and buſy hand,
Which brought the will of Solyman to light,
And thus curtail'd the rights of Almoran.
ALMORAN.
Since that moſt wretched, moſt diſgraceful moment,
Mark its return my ſoul—Since that curſt hour.
No joy, no tranſport hath this boſom known;
Nor ſhall theſe watchful, waking eyes e'er cloſe,
[14] E'er taſte again the balmy bliſs of ſleep,
Till—
CALED.
Every bar to empire, love, and glory,
And each dire obſtacle be ſwept away.
ALMORAN.
Thy ſovereign's ſoul is on thy lip—but how?
How compaſs theſe great ends?
CALED.
Great ends require
Means well proportion'd, and ſuch means
Are ever ready to the mind reſolv'd.
Honeſt Ambition, in expedients fruitful,
Still crouds a thouſand images at once
Upon the forming brain—the dart—the bowl,
The ſmiling banquet, and the midnight ſabre.
ALMORAN.
My boundleſs hopes are ruſhing to a point.
Declare thy purpoſe—Caled ſpeak direct.
CALED.
Direct then thus—My ſover'ign wou'd be king,
Supreme, ſole, undivided, fill the throne
Without a weak aſſociate—be the fate
Of ſubject earth—The thought is great—and great
Muſt be the enterprize—nought leſs than—
ALMORAN.
What!
CALED.
Death.
ALMORAN.
Said'ſt thou?
CALED.
Murder.
ALMORAN.
Whoſe?
CALED.
[15]What need of names? but ſtill to be direct,
The man that thwarts thee in the road to glory,
That ſtops thee midway in the bright career,
And intercepts thy radiance—
ALMORAN.
Ha! my brother!
Murder! my very heart turns from it. No,
One mother gave us being. We were twins.
The bloomy days of youth were paſs'd together;
He ever lov'd me, made this breaſt his pillow,
And wept upon it all his little ſorrows;
Long, long ere love or mad ambition
The roſy bonds of Nature broke and made
Us rivals—And ſhall I murder Hamet?
CALED.
Empire and love ſhall conſecrate the deed,
But I have err'd, and will offend no more,
Hamet loves rule, and therefore ſhares the throne,
If Omar aids, perhaps ſhall more than ſhare it.
Perhaps the wily ſage—
ALMORAN.
Audacious traitor!
Think'ſt thou the feeble dotard e'er will dare—
CALED.
The ſnake, my lord, that twiſts around the feet,
With bold aſpiring creſt at length may tow'r
Ev'n to the ſeat of life.
ALMORAN.
Firſt will I ſeize
With arm indignant its impoiſon'd throat,
Daſh the fell viper inſtant to the earth,
And ſee it writhe its life out in the duſt.
CALED.
The happy younger king too, runs before
[16] Ev'n in the race of love: auſpicious ſtill
The fair Circaſſian melts before he ſighs;
Soon ſhall the Perſian throne confeſs a queen;
Again the mangled crown ſhall know diviſion,
And a fair third of empire yield to her,
To Hamet's beauteous wife, divine Almeida.
ALMORAN.
Hold, Caled, hold—ſhall Almoran then ſtoop
To ſee his rich inheritance thus torn,
Thus raviſh'd, plunder'd by each bold uſurper,
And made the prey of vaſſals, boys, and women!
Caled, diſpatch—concert the great deſign—
Quick let's be gone—I ſicken at delay;
Love, empire, and ambition, drive me on;
Methinks already I redeem the ſceptre,
And o'er th' obedient world triumphant wave it.
The awful name of Almoran alone
Floats on the faithful gale—from ſhore to ſhore
The undiminiſh'd homage ſpreads around,
And my defrauded world's at length reſtor'd.
CALED.
Oh, glorious emulation—By yon heaven
I light ambition at my maſter's blaze!
The ſoul of Caled catches fire from his;
I riſe, I tow'r to do ſome noble deed
That the imperial Almoran ſhall fix,
Secure, uncrouded on his rightful throne.
ALMORAN.
Then take a rich reward—thy king's embrace.
But oh, this languid pauſe! I pine, I die,
'Till from that boy's encircled brow I ſeize
My ſullied diadem, and place it here.
Oh, how my ſoul exults in the idea;
Then ſhall I revel in Almeida's beauties;
Then each high bliſs by turns ſhall know and prove
The fate and fortune of our Eaſtern world.
Exeunt.
END OF ACT THE FIRST.
ACT II.
[17]SCENE I.
A VIEW OF THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS OF PERSIA, CUT OUT OF THE ROCKS, AND A PROSPECT OF A VENERA⯑BLE MOSQUE. THE WHOLE AWFULLY MAGNIFICENT. HAMET, OMAR.
HAMET.
THOU good old man—Thou full of days and ho⯑nour,
Guide of my youth, and glory of my crown,
My boſom labours with a friend's impatience
As now I lead thee to theſe ſacred ſeats—
Theſe awful ſepulchres, where Perſia's kings,
My anceſtors, repoſe in ſolemn ſilence—
Oh, my heart throbs till I have told thee all.
OMAR.
My prince, my child! I praiſe thy tender zeal,
And though oppreſſive time upon this head
Hath heavy ſnow'd full many a winters whiteneſs,
Yet once this heart—the memory ſtill is dear—
Felt a fond paſſion, pure and warm as thine.
To all that rateth high a virgin's worth,
Senſe, beauty, ſoul, long ſince was Omar wed.
HAMET.
If thou haſt lov'd, with unfatigued ear,
Thou wilt allow the ſweet prolixity,
Love's ſoft delay, and tender repetition.
"But, oh! by what ſad ſtroke of cruel fortune
"Fell from thy reverend arms this deareſt treaſure?"
OMAR.
"Full forty years Olmana to this boſom
"Miniſter'd every balm of virtuous ſoftneſs.
[18] "Paſſion from reaſon caught the wiſh compos'd,
"The hope obedient, and the ſteady purpoſe,
"A life devote to nature and to Heaven.
"At length it pleas'd the gods to take her from me,
"And pluck this pillow from my aged head;
"Her death was ſudden, but her life prepar'd.
"In my firſt widow'd days I felt as man;
"At length her ſacred ſpirit ſeem'd to chide,
"And whiſper'd that it only went before
"To intercede the Merciful for mine.
"I left her with the gods, and wept no more."
But come, what ſays Almeida?
HAMET.
How her name
Like ſudden ſun-beams darting thro' a cloud,
Lights up an inſtant joy in Hamet's boſom.
Oh, had'ſt thou ſeen her all diſſolv'd in paſſion—
Paſſion, tho' yielding, modeſtly chaſtis'd,
"And ſhaded by a delicate reſerve,
"Only to look more lovely thro' the veil"—
Had'ſt thou but ſeen her, eloquently dumb,
Sink in her father's arms, confeſs her ſoftneſs
In all the ſweet diſorders of the heart,
Then bluſh, and ſigh, and even weep for words!—
OMAR.
When does Abdallah's daughter then conſent.—
HAMET.
Hear it, ye favouring heav'ns, and every breeze,
Bear on your viewleſs wings the tender tidings,
I ſhall to-morrow claim—
OMAR.
To-morrow!
Knows royal Almoran this ſudden purpoſe?
HAMET.
[19]Ah Omar thou haſt ſprinkled drops of ice
Cold on my heart, to freeze the flame of love.
Not all the jealous vigilance of fondneſs;
Not the ſtill waking eyes of faithful Ali
Can foil the felon arts of wily Caled.
Almoran again hath ſeen her, friend—and much,
Still much I fear leſt—
OMAR.
Oh, forbear;
Wear not a doubtful eye upon a brother,
Nor let ſuſpicion fear thy generous heart.
HAMET.
Heaven knows my fondneſs; knows the generous love,
"Reſpect ſincere, and tenderneſs I bear him,
"And the ſoft ſhade I caſt o'er all his failings;"
Dear is my brother to this faithful heart,
As the warm tide that conſtant flows to feed it.
OMAR.
The ſainted Solyman thou know'ſt decreed,
That ye ſhould wear his yet unblemiſh'd crown
In amity together, wield his ſceptre
As brothers and as friends.—Unite to bleſs,
By a well-order'd government, the land;
The ſmiling arts of peace diffuſe around,
Or give—where patriot virtue points the cauſe
To be the cauſe of heav'n—freſh nerves to war;
O'er the wide wave to ſpread the advent'rous ſail,
Lift modeſt genius from the lowly vale,
And bid it bloſſom in a warmer ſoil,
More near its native ſkies.—
HAMET.
Dear, parent ſage,
Deep are thy counſels 'grav'd upon this heart.
OMAR.
[20]Yet ſpare a moment to the voice of truth,
Even from the hour of panting ſoftneſs ſpare it.
Oh ne'er forget, thou noble youth, 'tis thine
To taſte with Almoran the bliſs ſupreme
That flows from all the great, the glorious virtues,
Worthy of kings, on kings alone conferr'd;
Pity that ſoftens juſtice; merit, guarded
From bolder arrogance, e'en by the ſhield,
The temper'd ſhield of royalty itſelf.
"Bleſſings deriv'd from bleſſings well beſtow'd,
"Delights like theſe—oh, may they long be thine,
"Grow greater by diviſion." Yet remember
If e'er thou'rt tempted—which the gods forbid—
Should'ſt thou, as faction or as favour urges;
Should private paſſions, or domeſtick broils,
Frauds of the ſtate, or follies of the palace,
A miſtreſs or a miniſter, e'er lead
Thine eye, thy hand, thy heart from what thou ow'ſt,
From what the laws, the land, the people claim—
Claim as a duty from the prince they ſerve,
Not Perſia's utmoſt pomp combin'd to ſoothe thee,
"Not all the graces of the lov'd Almeida,
"Nor yet the princely pledges of her faith
"Climbing thy knee and blooming round thy board,
"Not ev'n the huſband's pride, the father's tranſport,"
Can ſnatch thee from the ſhame reſerv'd for him,
Who, baſe and lawleſs, wantons with his power,
"Covers with blood his violated country,
"To an enſanguin'd ſabre turns his ſceptre,
And more than traitor deſolates the empire.
HAMET.
Oh, never, never may this breaſt, which throbs
With all a patriot's, all a parent's ardour,
To ſerve the weal of Perſia, feel a curſe
So charg'd with anguiſh, or ſo full of horrour!
[21] With my lov'd ſubjects teach me, gods, to ſhare
The plenteous glories of this fertile land,
While royal Almoran partakes the joy,
And late poſterity atteſts our virtue!
Now, then, my friend, I muſt require thy aid.
OMAR.
What would my gracious prince?
HAMET.
Engage
His ſecond father in an inſtant office
Of tender import—This letter—take it Omar.
Why trembles thus my fooliſh hand to give it?
'Tis to my brother, and contains—oh heav'ns!
OMAR.
"The tidings of to-morrow. This perchance—
"'Tis dangerous;
[aſide]
ſoft—is there no other way?HAMET.
"Why pauſes Omar?
"Why deeply bent to earth his thoughtful eye?
OMAR.
"Thy love hath ſpoke, I doubt not, brotherly.
HAMET.
"Omar, my heart was in it. Take it then,
"O take it, friend! There, in that little ſpace
Are all my future hopes and fears inſcribed;
It is the hiſtory of a brother's love,
Writ to a brother's friendſhip—Yes, my Omar,
This is the hour which Almoran devotes
To private kindneſs, and unburthen'd freedom:
Upon his ſacred moments thou haſt claim;
And who ſo fit as thee to grace a meſſage
Where Hamet's happineſs ſo cloſes, centres?
OMAR.
Dear to this feeble boſom are ye both;
I honour, love, reſpect—do all but fear you.
The man we dread was never truly lov'd.
HAMET.
[22]Delay no Ionger then—oh think a little,
Something allow to ardent love's impatience;
No reſt ſhall Hamet know till thy return,
But trembling, anxious, wait thy coming, Omar.—
In the bleſs'd grove that ſhades Almeida's chamber,
There will I kneel, there awful bend to heaven,
That all our wiſhes may be crown'd in peace.
Exit HAMET.
OMAR alone.
I would not check his joys too far; and yet
Too plain, alas, theſe aged eyes can ſee
A train of miſchiefs gathering round our heads.
This letter notes the hour, when to the moſque
Hamet conducts his Fair Circaſſian bride.
Ye mighty Powers, who rule the royal ſoul,
And touch the maſter chords that ſway our nature,
Let kindred kindneſs ſave my kings from diſcord,
Preſerve the publick welfare, private quiet;
And theſe old eyes ſhall pour their thanks in tears.
Exit.
SCENE II.
A MAGNIFICENT APARTMENT IN THE PALACE. ALMORAN, OSMYN.
ALMORAN.
Oſmyn, thy conduct hath been ever humble,
Wary, and watchful. Now the time is ripe
To note thy ſubject ſervices more amply;
Caled, thou know'ſt, is our obedient ſlave,
Thy preſent poſt of honour ſhall be his,
And thou to larger dignities ariſe;
'Tis Almoran that liſts thee from the duſt.
OSMYN.
[24]Dread king, and father of the eaſtern world,
Thy ſacred purpoſe ever in my view
Bounds all the hopes of thy obſervant Oſmyn;
ALMORAN. aſide.
This is another Caled at the core;
Long have I marked his hypocritick look,
Diſguiſing falſehood in the fraudful ſmile:
'Twere not amiſs to make the ſlave ſecure.
Oſmyn.—
OSMYN.
Yonder, my lord, with ſober ſtep
Old Omar, that ſage pillar of the ſtate,
Comes ſlowly onward—venerably ſweet
His reverend aſpect.—
ALMORAN
(pauſing.)
Haply that were well.
Oſmyn!
OSMYN.
Imperial ſultan.
bows.
ALMORAN.
The important office of a miniſter
Might ſuit thy vigorous years and mind mature,
That feeble pillar ſoon muſt fall. Of this
Anon.—Ere night her ſable wing ſhall ſpread
O'er day's fair boſom, ſee that thou attend,
Juſt where the cluſt'ring citrons form a ſhade
Near to our chief ſeraglio, there I'll meet thee.
Go. Thou wilt remember and obey.
Exit OSMYN.
I wou'd not raſhly loſe a ſabre, when
Haply, I may want to try its temper.
aſide.
My curſes on this dotard. Caled, now
Shall Almoran take heed t' obſerve thy counſel;
A ſmile—Yes, ſmiles are well till all be ſure;
And yet my ſoul diſdains the narrow art
Of ſeeming that I am not. But he comes;
Take me hypocriſy, awhile I'm thine.
[24] Enter OMAR (offers to kneel.)
Thou ſhalt not bend. The venerable knee
Grown feeble in the ſervice of the ſtate
Should only bow to heaven. Thy ſilver locks,
Thoſe ſacred ſignals of the experienc'd mind,
Command the reverence of the kings they honour;
Ev'n Almoran reſpects them. O the falſehood,
aſide.
Shame on my abject tongue for thus diſſembling.
OMAR.
My fears were ſurely wrong.
[aſide]
O gracious king,This old fond boſom feels a father's joy
Thus to be welcom'd by the prince he loves.
Ev'n in the tendereſt hours of earlieſt life,
Thy mother ſent her little pride to Omar,
And ere thy tongue began to liſp its purpoſe,
The name of Omar firſt employ'd its efforts;
Then, as a preſage of thy future friendſhip—
Oh! be it heav'n prophetic—thou didſt throw
Thy infant arms around my neck—there clung'ſt
As if thou lov'dſt the ſoft repoſe I gave thee;
My boſom throbb'd as if thou wert mine own;
Upon this breaſt ſweet ſleep did viſit thee;
It was thy cradle, and thou oft haſt bleſt it.
ALMORAN.
Thou worthy ſage! Nor in maturer manhood,
Lord as I am of half the ſubject world,
Am I leſs tender of the faithful Omar,
The ſenſe, the ſoul of Perſia's blooming empire.
OMAR.
The mighty Solyman, as ſick he lay,
Upon his laſt, laſt bed, bequeath'd you to me,
Gave Almoran and Hamet to my care;
He preſs'd me as I promis'd, ſmil'd, and died:
And far, dear youth, beyond the glowing gold
Which grows beneath the wealthy breaſt of earth,
I prize the royal legacy—O ſire
[25] Forgive me—I am old, and age is tedious;
But 'tis the heart offends, and thou wilt pardon.
ALMORAN
(aſide)
Again he teaches me to be ſincere;
Nature's all-conquering language from his lip
Flows on the heart with meek ſerenity;
He cannot be ambitious—Caled wrongs him.
What welcome meſſage of fraternal love
advancing.
Brings Omar from his Hamet—Ha! a letter.
May its contents be happy!—
OMAR
(aſide.)
His motion is diſturb'd—'Twere beſt withdraw
A moment—I wait, my lord, your ſacred leiſure.
Bows and retires, Almoran not marking him.
ALMORAN.
Hell to my hopes, and horrors to my heart!
Wed her! ſo ſoon! to-morrow! wed Almeida!
Oh, dire confuſion—ſome protecting God
Deſcend, deſcend to ward the fatal blow;
May rolling thunders, light'nings intercept it!
But curſe on invocation, what avails it?
Even while I ſupplicate the hour draws nigh,
The fatal hour that is to cruſh my hopes,
As I this murd'rous ſcroll—away with prayer;
The tardy ſtriking gods deny their ſuccour.
What muſt be done? Ye powers of darkneſs riſe!
Spirits infernal leave your flaming beds—
Omar re-enters ſuddenly.
OMAR.
My lord.
ALMORAN.
Ha! dotard, traitor, trembling hoary traitor,
Dare not to think I wiſh it were conceal'd;
My rage, my grief, my ruin—Dotard, no!
Tho' thou haſt ſtol'n the ſecret from my lips,
The ſoul of Almoran by fear unaw'd
[26] Smiles on thy powerleſs perfidy.—The world,
The vaſſal univerſe, is mine—Away—
Begone with life—I give it thee—I ſcorn
To ſtain my arm, but leave thee thus deſpis'd.
Going, Omar catches his robe and kneels.
OMAR.
Bow'd as I am already to the earth
By time's oppreſſive hand—with all the weight
Of fourſcore winters on my aged head,
I fall ſtill lower, with ſubmiſſion fall,
To claſp theſe ſacred knees and beg an audience.
Ah, dear, unhappy prince, repreſs theſe ſtarts;
Subdue the unmanly rage that checks thy virtue;
Conquer thy ſury, and reſume the king.
There is no cauſe, my ſoul diſdains to liſten,
Affection brought me back.—
ALMORAN.
And what art thou,
That Almoran ſhould care, or clear, or guilty?
OMAR
(riſes.)
And what am I? A long-try'd faithful ſubject;
A man who honours and a friend who loves thee.
If theſe white hairs, grown ſilver in thy ſervice;
If age, if truth, no kind attentions warrant,
Still Omar's duty dictates to his tongue.
ALMORAN.
Hah!
OMAR.
The pride of health now blooms upon thy cheek,
High bounds each fervid pulſe with vigorous life;
Unbounded power, unbounded wealth are thine;
Beauty has thrown her manly graces round thee,
And laviſh nature hath done all ſhe can:
Yet miſery and grief, and rage unſeemly
Blot every bleſſing, wither every joy,
"Rob of its radiance thy imperial crown,
[27] "From the ſoft pillow rudely tear repoſe,"
And make thee, Almoran, ſupremely wretched.
ALMORAN.
"And if I were; thou like a meddling fool,
"Like the dark raven on the blaſted branch,
"Art come officiouſly to croak deſpair,
"And ſpread more gloom upon the troubled mind:
"I thank thee for't.—
OMAR.
Heav'n knows thou doſt me wrong.
"That heav'n can tell, I pity, love, revere thee.
"My very heart now bleeds to ſee the prince;
"To ſee the youth, who, from the prattling hour
"Of unoffending infancy, theſe eyes
"Have view'd with all the fondneſs of a father,
"Thus ſink to earth, the victim of the paſſions.
"But oh! th' abode of bliſs is ſtill before thee;
"The flow'rs of peace, and joy, and ſoft content,
"Smile beautiful around—plain lies the path,
"Nor is it difficult to keep the track,
"Mark'd by the cherub hand of truth to man,
"Purſue it—oh, purſue it, and be happy."
ALMORAN.
Doſt thou preſume with a bold pedant's tongue
To ſchool the ſon of Solyman—thy maſter?
Bold monitor, I am my own adviſer;
Think, ſpeak, act, dictate, only for myſelf,
Nor will I brook a vaſſal's interuption.
OMAR.
Ev'n Solyman himſelf, thou cruel prince,
That ſcepter'd ſaint, who from the King of Kings
Now takes the crown of virtue—He diſdain'd not
To catch inſtruction from the voice of Omar;
Nor did he weigh in pride's too partial balance
The ſtation or deſcent of uſeſul wiſdom.
[28] But this avails not: Tho' my lord thou ſcorn'ſt
The honeſt cautions of my zeal to ſerve thee,
I muſt not ſee thee—for thy ſire is dead;
The oath I gave is with him in the ſkies,
And all the parent ſits upon this boſom—
I will not ſee thee ruſh on ſhame and ruin.
ALMORAN.
Ha! traitor, dar'ſt thou—
OMAR.
In a cauſe like this,
Tho' death ſtood ready with the bloody bowſtring,
Omar dare ſhew the firmneſs of his virtue:
Nay, if his duty urges, dare do more.
ALMORAN.
What more, inſulting miniſter, what more?
OMAR.
Unaw'd, undaunted, like a faithful ſubject—
Dare, unappall'd, tell Almoran he's guilty—
Tell him—whene'er he deviates into vice,
Preſumes that kings are left to range at large
O'er the heaven-guarded property of others,
And treſpaſs on the ſovereign rights of man;
Or yield to paſſions that debaſe his ſtation,
Kindle inteſtine ſlames, embroil the ſtate—
Then tell him that he merits well the ſcorn
Of every loyal heart—A king no more—
A king, the public father, born to bleſs,
And court the ſmiles of all his ſubject children.
ALMORAN.
Loquacious babbler—ceaſe thy rude upbraidings,
Leſt I be tempted to deſtroy the web
Wove with ſuch waſte of toil—Away thou fool:
Go ſchool thy Hamet—we diſdain preſcription.
OMAR.
My duty is diſcharg'd and I have done.
Farewell—There is an hour on wing—Oh heavens!
[29] I tremble for thee—Prince, there is an hour
That will, alas, when thou art all unfriended,
When the proud monarch, like the ſlave he ſpurns,
Shall drop the lofty eye, the ſultan's creſt,
"And fell diſeaſe unſmoothe the chearleſs pillow,"
Thunder conviction on thee—Oh, expect it—
'Tis terrible—a pang without a name—
To meet it unawares or unprepared.
Exit.
ALMORAN
(alone, greatly agitated.)
Thunder conviction!
—Curſe upon the ſlave,
He ſtarts a thought that quite diſarms my ſoul.
—But wherefore pauſe I thus, the fool of fancy?
Grey ſteals the dawn upon me, and to-morrow,
That mountain to my hopes, is near at hand,
Veil'd only by the tranſient ſhades of night.
Hamet, Almeida, Omar, all oppoſe me:
No more delays—the meaſures muſt be ſwift.
Enter CALED. (Haſtily)
Again! Audacious villain die.—Ha, Caled!
Almoran draws a ſabre,
CALED.
How! ſovereign of the world, have I offended?
ALMORAN.
Riſe, Caled, riſe: I thought thee that vile Omar—
Wherefore this haſte?
CALED.
Paſſing the weſtern gate
That opens on the eye the gliding barks,
I ſaw but now the lovers arm in arm
Purſue the tender walk, and ſighing ſay
To-morrow—oh! to-morrow.—
ALMORAN.
I've heard it all,
That Omar brought the tidings, fretted, chid me;
[30] Prated cold maxims to my burning rage,
And tho' he ſaw my very ſoul diſorder'd
Perſiſted ſtill to preach me into patience:
At length the pent-up tempeſt tore its way
Thro' this indignant boſom, and all wild
With anguiſh and deſpair, I ſpurn'd him from me.
CALED.
Short is the time my lord—If inſtant acts]
Prevent not the ſolemnity, all's foil'd.
What may be done?
ALMORAN.
Be quick then, tardy thinker,
Diſpatch, determine, execute at once:
And let a moment do the work of ages.
CALED.
Suſpecting ſomewhat of love's forward zeal,
And from the faithful Ali gathering more,
I am not wholly unprepar'd, my lord;
Ali, 'tis true, is ſomewhat ſtubborn, thoughtful,
Of temper oft reſiſting; but a prieſt, my lord,
Open to great aſpirings, wary, plauſible:
We have conferr'd of late.
ALMORAN.
Ha! light breaks in upon me.
I have it all—Haſte, Caled, then to Ali,
The night is far advanced—the time moſt precious.
Loſe not a moment to bring Ali with thee,
Ev'n to my ſecret chamber thou conduct him:
The blow we have to ſtrike ſhall—but away—
'Tis unexpected thunder ſtuns us moſt,
And terror doubles when the flaſh is ſudden—
Let Oſmyn too be ſummon'd; all combine—
Sure of immortal honour—to defend
The throne, the heart of the inſulted Almoran.
END OF ACT THE SECOND.
ACT III.
[31]SCENE I.
AN APARTMENT IN HAMET'S PALACE.
OMAR.
A Change ſo ſudden—every tumult huſh'd—
So wild an hurricane blown o'er already?
'Tis moſt ſuſpicious, and I yet have doubts.
Perhaps ſome plan of deep drawn policy—
Perhaps—but hither ſpeeds the younger king:
He comes with all the lover in his ſtep,
And the fond bridegroom beaming from his eye:
(looking out)
O bleſſed ſtate of unſuſpecting youth,
Gay, worthy, ardent, generous, and warm,
'Tis barbarous to deſtroy thy gilded dreams
And wake thee to the cunning turns of life.
SCENE II.
HAMET, OMAR.
HAMET.
My reverend father, guardian ever dear,
My ſpirit could not reſt till it had found thee.
I left thee late with gloom upon thy brow,
And all unevenly thy accents fell,
As if contention 'twixt thy heart and tongue
Wag'd war ſevere.
OMAR.
It was but fancy;
The eye of friendſhip magnifies each trifle.
HAMET.
If 'twas but fancy, wherefore droop'ſt thou now?
What may this mean, my friend?
OMAR.
[32]Regard it not;
Age is uncertain, weak, and full of ſtarts;
Precarious life then hangs but by an hair,
And a babe's breath will ſhake it—
HAMET.
Haply, ſtill
Thou art with Almoran diſpleas'd—Forgive him!
The letter brought by Oſmyn might excuſe
His warmth. 'Twas to invite my Omar's pardon;
What could my brother more? We all are men:
Error confeſs'd, is, to a noble mind,
Error's atonement. Heav'n requires no more!
OMAR.
If I am ſad, thou haſt not gueſs'd the cauſe.
Power's vain parade, and Paſſion's rudeſt burſt,
Fall unregarded on this aged boſom;
And all their force is blunted e'er they reach me.
The pangs which now I feel are all for thee.
HAMET.
For me—and art thou ſad for me—for Hamet.
Have not the gods been more than laviſh to him?
Will not the muſick of th' harmonious choir
Soon echo Hamet's joys throughout the palace?
Are not the prieſts already in the moſque?
Are not the virgins with their wreathes prepar'd
To ſtrew the roſeate paths of love with flow'rs?
Nay, will not Almoran himſelf attend?
Come, let's be gone. Ali ere this expects us.
OMAR.
I have deceiv'd thee, Hamet—much deceiv'd thee.
HAMET.
Deceiv'd me!—Thou!—Has Omar much deceiv'd me?
OMAR.
Yes—thy brother—there it begins—thy brother—
[33] Yet, ſay his life upon thy kindneſs reſted,
Wou'd not thy virtuous heart do much to ſave it?
HAMET.
To ſave his life!—O much indeed, my Omar.
I'd ruſh undaunted thro' the perilous war,
Ev'n where the bleeding battle thickeſt rag'd,
And ſpread my body as a ſhield before him.
I'd ruſh into the wild and fearful waves,
When their chaf'd fury drench'd the ſailing clouds,
I'd fight, I'd fall, I'd DIE to ſave his life.
OMAR.
There ſpoke at once the monarch and the man;
And oh! ſtill dearer, there the brother ſpoke.
Should he then aſk a treaſure at thy hand,
Thy ſoft humanity would grant his ſuit,
Ev'n tho' it pointed to—the fair Almeida.
HAMET.
To fair Almeida!—Hear me, Holy Powers;
kneels.
Hear me each power that in Fate's awful volume
Record'ſt the vows of men—the oaths of kings,
That ought to bear, like thine, the ſeals of truth;
Oh hear me ſwear—while kneeling thus before thee,
I pledge my ſoul's fix'd ardours to Almeida,
Nor ſhou'd the congregated globe united
E'er rend her from theſe claſping, conſtant arms,
'Till their laſt ſinew ſunk beneath the ſabre:
This witneſs, gods—the guardians of our love.
riſes.
OMAR
(aſide.)
'Tis as I thought—all gentle as he is,
At the fond heart he is a very lover:
'Twill be in vain to warn him.—O, my ſon,
Forgive the cautious ſcruples of my age;
No more I chill with doubts thy generous hopes.
HAMET.
[34]Doubts!—there's no cauſe of doubt—I am moſt bleſt.
OMAR.
Go then, dear youth, indulge the ſacred joy.
Go—and with this eternal truth be happy,
Tho' yonder orb ſhou'd from its ſphere be hurl'd,
And this firm-ſealed earth—with all her tow'rs,
The mighty labour of three thouſand years—
Shou'd inſtant mingle with the duſt that form'd them,
The equitable ſoul, by truth upborn,
Far o'er the vapours of this mould'ring world,
Shall bold reſiſt each periſhable power,
And greatly triumph in the cruſh of nature.
HAMET
(looking out.)
Omar, behold! my Almoran appears.
In the fraternal look he comes array'd.
You wrong'd him, friend—indeed you wrong'd him much.
SCENE III.
ALMORAN, HAMET, OMAR.
HAMET.
Welcome, thrice welcome, on this happy day,
For ever, ever welcome to theſe arms.
embrace.
ALMORAN.
Yon Heav'n alone can tell how much I thank thee;
And yet I feel the tinge of glowing ſhame
Burn on my cheek as I embrace my brother.
Indeed I've been to blame, forgive me, Omar;
Brother, ſpeak for me—I have us'd him harſhly.
OMAR.
O think me what I am, I aſk no more.
ALMORAN.
Thou art a friend, and ſtill wilt bear my failings.
HAMET.
[35]Did I not tell thee, Omar, he would act,
Ev'n as thou ſee'ſt, a brother's tendereſt part.
But love is full of fears. I fear'd myſelf—
At firſt I fear'd thee, but when riper thought
Recall'd to view the aſſociate and the friend;
The dear companion of my early cradle,
Sharer in ev'ry ſport, in every toy,
Depoſit lov'd of every little care,
I chid my cruelty, and all was well.
ALMORAN.
And yet, my Hamet, could'ſt thou gueſs the pangs,
The trying agonies, this conqueſt coſt me,
Then thou indeed would pity.
HAMET.
Generous friend,
O do not wound me thus, my other ſelf.
What ſhall I do, 'twixt two extremes I'm torn,
And nature ſtrains the chords of love and friendſhip
With too ſevere a hand.
ALMORAN.
Hamet, no!
Here, in the preſence of the faithful Omar,
My flame I ſacrifice to purer fires.
Dear as ſhe is, my brother, take Almeida,
Lead undiſturb'd the virgin to the altar,
And from this hand receive thy charming bride.
HAMET.
Oh, Almoran, with unexampled greatneſs
Thy virtue ſoars above me—Still my elder:
ALMORAN.
But wherefore waſte we thus the precious moments,
Even now the jocund, joy announcing note,
Harmonious calls thee to the ſcene of bliſs;
Love's vermeil bluſhes, height'ned by a charm,
[36] Which kind diſorder wakes in every feature,
Now bloom around Almeida; while her eye
Shines ardent forth to chide the tardy Hamet.
HAMET.
With a tumultuous heart I wait the ſummons.
Come then, oh come, my father and my friend,
Together let us ſeek the heavenly maid—
Together lead her to the ſacred altar;
There thou, before the gay aſſembled throng,
Kindly preſiding o'er the nuptial rites,
Shall, with a brother's gentle privilege,
And like a parent, give her to my arms.
Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
OMAR
(alone).
How this old boſom akes with tender joy;
Such joy as only friends and fathers feel,
To ſee them thus agreeing, thus united!
Ah, bliſs ſupreme of ſubjects and of kings:
Our richeſt joys ſtill court the private ſcene,
And life's prime hope is to be bleſs'd at home.
He is indeed convinc'd, and I have wrong'd him.
O thou, who thus infuſeſt kindred love
Into their ſocial hearts, ſtill ardent, fix,
Aid, and invigorate the generous cement;
Then like two planets may they gild the land
With undiminiſh'd luſtre. Thro' the realm
Of Perſia's wide domain may they diſpenſe
Th' effulgent rays of truth and virtue round,
Bleſs every object in their glad career,
Imparting mutual brightneſs to each other.
Exit.
SCENE V.
[37]THE INSIDE OF THE CHIEF MOSQUE, MAGNIFICENTLY ILLUMINATED—ALI, IMANS, OFFICERS, AND THE ASSIATICK AMBASSADORS, PREPARED FOR THE CERE⯑MONY —CHORUS OF YOUTHS AND VIRGINS, WHO ENTER WITH THE PRIESTS TO SING THE EPITHA⯑LAMIUM —AN ALTAR SUPERBLY DECORATED.
ALMORAN.
Ali approach; begin the ſacred rites.
ALI.
Deep in yon conſecrated grove's receſs,
E'en now the holy men, their ſanctities
Unſeen prepare. We wait their high report.
after a pauſe.
And yet ſo bleſt a marriage may rely
Upon approving heav'n. On virtuous love
The gods will ſurely ſmile. Advance, ye pair,
On to the ſacred altar—we delay not.
Hamet and Almeida go a few paces and ſtop.
ODE.
Angels of truth, in robes of living light,
From yonder radiant ſphere,
Expand your ſtarry pinions bright,
And lend a fav'ring ear.
And thou benign, refulgent Source of day.
Beſtow a tutelary ray;
Behold thy holy miniſters prepare,
To join this heav'n-elected pair.
Behold, advancing to thy ſhrine,
They humbly beg the boon divine.
O then, from yonder regions pure above
Deſcend thy cherub choir on beams of love.
[38] CHORUS of Youths and Virgins.
Angels of truth, in robes of living light,
From yonder radiant ſphere,
Expand your ſtarry pinions bright,
And lend a fav'ring ear.
ALMORAN.
Thus then I take the fair Almeida's hand,
And to our happy brother thus preſent it.
Joining their hands.
ALI.
Henceforward be theſe hands for ever—
Enter PRIEST (in great conſternation).
PRIEST.
Ceaſe, ceaſe your rites, unhallow'd and unbleſt.
As but e'en now we kneel'd before the ſhrine,
Sudden tremendous darkneſs brooding ſat,
Full on the grove, and ſhadow'd all beneath;
In adverſe ſpires the angry flames aroſe,
And from the ſacred ſepulchre of Solyman
Deep ſounds were heard, of inauſpicious groans—
As if the troubled ſpirit there entomb'd
Oppos'd the nuptials—When lo! a voice,
Like thunder vollied thro' tempeſtuous air,
Said—take this ſcroll—commiſſion'd from above.
It is the will divine—to Ali bear it.
Trembling we bow'd, and promis'd ſwift obedience.
ALI.
Ye powers, is this the heaven directed ſcroll?
ALMORAN
(eagerly).
But what imports it?
ALI
(reads).
Fate hath decreed to ALMORAN Almeida!
OMAR
(aſide).
'Tis as I fear'd—Ali has play'd us falſe.
HAMET.
[39]Away with prodigies diſſembling Ali,
Finiſh the rites this moment, or expect—
ALMEIDA to ALI.
The profanation then, falſe prieſt, is thine:
Art thou to learn—and from a woman's tongue—
The duties of thine office? "Know'ſt thou not,
"That the juſt gods, with whom thou dar'ſt to trifle,
"Act by conſiſtent and unerring laws
"Of truth, of love, and everlaſting virtue."
And would'ſt thou charge—oh, force of impious fraud!—
The dext'rous artifice of wicked men
To the account of heaven! Of heav'n, which ſheds
It's freſheſt dews of bleſſedneſs on all
Whom faith and fondneſs hold in bonds of honour.
HAMET.
Are theſe thy arts?—Oh, moſt unhallow'd Ali.
ALMEIDA.
"Hence each iniquity, each dark deſign,
"The lures of intereſt, and the guſts of paſſion,
"The inſidious project, and the ſordid purpoſe,
"With each complotting juggle of the ſtate,
"That venal miniſters or holy minions,
"Full often practice to advance themſelves,
"Or feed the luſts of ſome deluded maſter,
"Receives a ſanction from the powers above."
HAMET.
Yes, prieſt, there's not a crime which meanneſs prompts,
Vain folly ſighs for, mad ambition kindles;
There's not a daring dreadful villainy,
"Nor yet a fraud that the ſmooth courtier wiſhes
"To paſs on prince or people, as a virtue,
"And trick it off in reverend robes, like thine,"
But ſtill the inſtrument is wrong'd RELIGION,
And heav'n itſelf is made the guilty cauſe
Of heap'd enormities, which hell would ſtart at.
ALMORAN.
[40]Brother forbear—
ALI.
The gods muſt be obey'd.
ALMEIDA.
Yes, prieſt, I know it. Then obey them ſtraight.
Doſt thou ſtill waver to expound their will—
Their will is obvious, ſimple, unperplex'd,
And never leads the enquiring mind aſtray,
But when entangled in thy myſtick toils.
"O ſlow of ſoul as deſtitute of honour,
"Had'ſt thou e'er heard the heavenly voice of truth,
"Or could that boſom, dark and drear as death,
"Sacred to viler paſſion, e'er have felt
"The unblemiſh'd fervors of a generous love,
"Without diſguiſe the oracle would tell thee
"—That pure plain oracle, an honeſt heart—
"The ſacred duties at the bridal altar."
ALI.
Still we repeat the gods, and fate—
HAMET.
Peace ſacrilegious—much thou talk'ſt of gods,
And much of fate—thy guileful lips have utter'd?
But when did fate work miracles for tyrants?
Or when invert the order of the ſkies
To favour luſt, impiety, and ſhame?
ALMORAN.
I'll hear no more—Ali renew the rites
For Almoran, renew them. Fate decrees
Almeida to my arms.
HAMET.
Brother 'tis falſe,
And with my life—
ALI.
Monarch deſiſt—With reverence obey.
Omar himſelf can tell—
OMAR.
[41]Yes prieſt, he can;
For long his wary eye has watch'd thy ſliding.
Omar CAN tell thee all thou dare forget;
That mark'd for holineſs, thy heart ſhould prove,
A temple worthy the pure truth it teaches;
That thou ſhould ſpurn ambition's fatal fires,
And kiſs the ſhrine, unſpotted and ador'd,
Of meek humility—"Religion's chief
"Guide of the Perſian faith—that thy example
"Should, to the countleſs crouds thou haſt in charge,
"The undefiled charities diſpenſe,
"Cleans'd as the dews of heav'n—Amid'ſt thy wealth,
"Pour'd in large tribute to thy honour'd order,
"That ſtill the willing offering of the rich
"Should poize the lots of life, and bleſs the poor;
"The everlaſting fire that thou ſhould'ſt guard,
"Ev'n 'till that ſacred element ſubdue
"The world whereon we move—But above all,
"That thou ſhould'ſt ne'er pervert the holy flame
"With fancied viſions that confound the ſoul;
"Nor terrify with myſtic forgeries
"The ſimple and ſincere; but calm to teach,
"Powerful to aid, and patient to inſtruct,
"Diſtinguiſh vice from virtue, truth from error;
"Check the bold ſinner whatſoe'er his ſtation;
"Ev'n in the royal preſence to aſſert,
"If a more awful preſence prompts the duty,
"The man of truth;" nor even dare, as thou
Haſt dar'd, to KNOW theſe glorious truths,
Yet turn them all to mockery and baſeneſs.
HAMET.
The holy moſque is tainted with their crimes:
'Twere beſt retire, my love; nor will I deign
Once to reproach the prieſt—man's faint rebuke
[42] Is loſt where heav'n prevails not—But for thee,
Brother and friend no more—Diſhoneſt man!
Be mine, or thine, henceforth the Perſian throne.
The PRIESTS and ALI confer.
ALMORAN
(interrupting.)
Deep-judging Ali,
Is this the boaſted iſſue of thy wiles?
Is this the proud reſult of all thy wiſdom?
Of flaming altars and concerted groans:
This the rare miracle—the rich device—
That was to bring Almeida to my arms,
A gift of heav'n! Away, ye hoary traitors,
This inſtant quit the temple—hence—begone—
Dare not to juſtify—I'll hear no more.
Curſe on thy prodigies, I here renounce them.
She ſhall be mine without your feeble aid;
Force, ſcepter'd force, enſues, avow'd and bold:
Spurn'd from this heart be ev'ry vain diſguiſe,
My paſſion knows no bounds—henceforth I ſeize
My beateous victim in the face of day.
Exit with OSMYN and CALED.
SCENE VI.
CHANGES TO A GROVE NEAR, PRESENTING AN OUT⯑SIDE VIEW OF THE MOSQUE, BUT DIFFERENT FROM THAT OF THE TOMBS.
HAMET, ALMEIDA, OMAR.
HAMET.
Still onward, friend, to where yon branching palms
Embow'r the ſhrubs beneath. There, lov'd Almeida,
Awhile ſhalt thou remain with virtuous Omar,
"Till I explore ſome yet unbribed Iman,
[43] That ſtraight may foil the wicked arts of Ali.
This way, my love—I will with ſpeed return.
Hamet goes with them to the upper wing, and returns.
The time admits not of delay—When fraud's on foot
And guilt is once detected—Ha!—by heav'n!
looking out.
Ev'n in this ſacred privacy he haunts me—
The man on earth my ſoul would wiſh to ſhun—
I would avoid thee.
To ALMORAN entering.
ALMORAN.
I know thou would'ſt;
But Almoran forbids.
HAMET.
Does Almoran?
Does Almoran forbid? And who is he
That thus preſumes, with mock prerogative,
To bar the paſſage of the injur'd Hamet?
And hath this mighty monarch been reduc'd
To poor hypocriſy, and foul contrivance?
Is the rich blood of Solyman debas'd
To mix with mercenaries, who can forge
Upon the gods they worſhip? Shame upon thee!
ALMORAN.
Tempt me no further, boy; thy life's at ſtake.
puts his hand on his ſabre.
HAMET.
Yes, draw thy ſabre—riſe upon the friend;
Convert the ſultan to the common ſtabber:
Aſſail—oh glorious—Hamet while unarm'd—
The only moment thou wouldſt dare to meet him.
ALMORAN.
Hah—would'ſt dare—
HAMET.
[44]Tyrant, I ſaid ſo—dare.
Haſt thou not ſtoop'd to deſpicable frauds,
To vile deceits, and arts of little cunning,
Beneath thy manhood, ev'n beneath thy pride—
To arts which cowards practice—mark it—cowards.
When did the brave—the brave are ever generous—
When did the brave man ſkulk in the diſguiſe
Of prieſtly prodigies, or bribe a ſlave
To traffick with his function—ſell his gods—
And tear the trembling virgin from the altar.
ALMORAN.
Villain, forbear.
HAMET.
Nay, more than virgin yet more ſacred,
The appointed wife—Yes, royal raviſher,
Fraudful to ſteal thy brother's wife away.
Ha!—were thy ruffians ready—Oh, inſidious!
Enter CALED with guards.
They offer to ſeiſe HAMET, ALMORAN prevents.
ALMORAN.
Caled, forbear. Now then, Inſulter,
In manly ſcorn of all thy baſe aſperſions,
The outrag'd Almoran, to thy confuſion,
Ev'n on thy heart ſhall PROVE his want of courage.
There, vaunting inſolent, defend thyſelf—
Throws his ſabre to HAMET and takes CALED'S.
Now try thy boaſted bravery.
HAMET.
Thanks to thy wounded pride for this one virtue.
Prepare to fight.
SCENE VII.
[45]Enter ALMEIDA.
Guards ſeiſe HAMET.
ALMEIDA.
Deſiſt, inhuman murderer, nor deeper plunge
Thy ſoul in guilt.
ALMORAN.
Ah, Almeida here!
Now ſee if thou eſcape a ſecond time.
HAMET.
Off, ruffians, off. Art thou a coward now?
ALMORAN.
I will not take life, nor hear thee rail,
But thus aſſert an elder brother's right.
ALMEIDA.
What right, thou violating man?—What right?
To whom haſt thou a right?—And is it thus
Thy horrid reign begins?—Is this, vain boaſter—
Thou large of promiſe, but of deeds, penurious—
Is this the firſt great act of Perſia's king?
ALMORAN.
Now thank the gods!
ALMEIDA.
For what doſt thank them?
That yet, forbearing, they ſuſpend the thunder,
And do not fend the ready light'ning forth
To cruſh thee, proudly blooming in thy crimes.
But death were lenity—live on deſpis'd—
Live, to endure th' extremities of ſhame,
The pangs of conſcience, and the realm's contempt,
The people's hatred, and thy own reproach.
ALMORAN.
[46]Full dearly ſhall theſe baſe aſperſions coſt thee:
This inſtant ſeiſe, and bear her to our palace.
They ſeiſe her.
HAMET.
Oh! by the gods I charge thee—
It is your prince—your future queen.
ALMORAN.
Caled, along.
Guards drag her.
ALMEIDA.
Inviſible power of nature, truth, and juſtice—
If ever innocence—how the ruffians tear me—
I will not go—ye ſhall not—Hamet—
Drops on her knees.
Oh, Hamet, Hamet—
Dragged off.
HAMET.
In pity, brother—on my knees—
Oh!—murd'rous—barbarous—cruel—
Torn away.
ALMORAN.
The lady once ſecur'd, be Hamet free.
Exeunt.
END OF ACT THE THIRD.
ACT IV.
[47]SCENE I.
AN APARTMENT IN ALMORAN'S PALACE.
ALMORAN, OSMYN, CALED.
ALMORAN.
THEN empire is our own; dominion courts
At length the ſmile of Almoran alone,
And proud Almeida, the Circaſſian maid,
Like ſome rich jewel, the reward of conqueſt,
Decreed to ſparkle on the victor's brow,
Shall yield her beauties to theſe longing arms.
CALED.
Ali, dread king, induſtriouſly loyal,
Still plies the rabble with fomenting zeal,
And deaf of fair Almeida's eloquence,
The oaths of Hamet, and the arts of Omar,
Ev'n now the multitude tumultuous ſhout—
"We ſaw the altar flame, we heard the groans,
"And heav'n decrees to Almoran Almeida."
ALMORAN.
See, Oſmyn, that each ſoothing art be tried
To reconcile Almeida to our power:
Let Perſia's utmoſt pride and pomps await her:
Breathe forth the ſoul of harmony around:
To his inventive mind who ſtarts a joy
Unknown, be recompence adjudg'd. Let ſlaves
In ſplendid vaſſalage attend the fair,
Our future queen, the new, the lov'd ſultana.
But, above all, beware no female forms
Obedient to our paſſion, or our pride,
That ſwell the choſen train of the ſeraglio,
Approach apartments ſacred to Almeida.
CALED.
[48]Monarch of nations, ever-glorious ſultan,
Thus let me pay the debt of adoration.
proſtrates.
OSMYN.
Great ruler of the world, accept my homage.
proſtrates.
ALMORAN.
Hold, laviſh Fortune, hold thy bounteous hand;
Too faſt increaſe the thronging joys upon me,
And my ſoul labours with the ſoft oppreſſion.
Riſe, both riſe—vicegerents of my greatneſs:
On ye, as my deputed delegates,
Henceforth devolve the ſhining toils of ſtate;
All Perſia's vulgar care's beneath the ſultan:
Guard ye my paradiſe from all obtruſion,
Next in command to Almoran and fate.
Yet ſtill beware—let ſtrict fidelity
And nice obedience juſtify our favour;
Remember ſtill—the breath that gives ye ſway—
Th' immortal arm that raiſes, can deſtroy.
Exit with OSMYN.
SCENE II.
CALED.
Lo! ſuch the wages of ſucceſsful vice.
Vice did I ſay! oh, infamy of ſlander!
'Tis pious artifice, 'tis glorious thrift!
While virtue ſtarves, bold ſpirits will burſt forth
Beyond the lying letter of the law,
The ſhackling trammels of the moral fool,
And fly to arts like Caled's for ſupport.
I ſtand excus'd. Let but the gale of virtue
Waft Caled as conveniently to port,
The golden port of int'reſt and ambition;
"Let but the ſlighting world on truth beſtow
"Diſſimulation's gay and gorgeous robe,"
[49] Then nought but holy maxims ſhall be heard
From this converted tongue.—But, oh! my ſoul,
This rock impaſſable—this tow'ring Oſmyn—
Be ſwift prolifick brain to work his fall,
And ſhake the fabrick he has rais'd above me.
Exit.
SCENE III.
THE SERAGLIO GATES.
OSMYN
(alone).
While Caled takes his ſtation near the palace,
Here muſt I wait the coming of the ſultan.—
Ah! ſervitude abhorr'd, diſgraceful ſtate!
The recent honours he has heap'd upon me,
Chill on my brow, and ſicken at my heart.
O, conſcience! conſcience! ſmite me not ſo ſore,
Thou ſcourge inviſible! Who plac'd thee here,
With thy dread arrowy ſtore, to goad and wound us?
Something far ſharper than the ſabre's point
Now ſtrikes this breaſt and calls me ſlave and minion.
What may be done? This conſtant care diſtracts me—
The account of infamy is large againſt me.
Long have I inly mourn'd—
SCENE IV.
Enter HAMET (in a mute's habit)
Stand! Who approaches?
What ſtep forbidden, thus intruſive—Hamet?
HAMET.
Yes, traitor, Hamet. Where is that inhuman
That forces Hamet to aſſume theſe robes,
And ſeize upon his ſacred rights by ſtealth?
Where is that king?—that monſter-brother—Speak!
Where, villain, is Abdallah?—Where Almeida?
[50] Anſwer me ſtraight—behold this ſcymeter—
Delay will make me deſperate.
OSMYN.
Abdallah
Still is ſafe.—Oh! aſk, dread king, no more.
HAMET.
Equivocating ſlave, my heart is broke;
Loos'd is the chord that ty'd it to my breaſt.
Tell me each atom of the damning truth,
Or—
OSMYN.
Thus compell'd, my lord—She's there.
Points to the ſeraglio.
HAMET.
There!
OSMYN.
My heart bleeds for him.—Even there, my lord;
In that ſeraglio—
HAMET.
Seraglio! What?
My deſtin'd bride?—Almeida—Perſia's miſtreſs?
Has he then turn'd her to the train of victims,
Mix'd her ſoft purity with venal beauty,
Stain'd the pure bloſſom of our virtuous joys,
And like the hapleſs ſacrifice of riot—
Oh, nature! nature! this—I cannot bear it.
Burſts in tears.
OSMYN.
No, gracious ſovereign, 'tis the ſultan's orders,
That far apart—
HAMET.
Ope not thy villain lips.
Already have they more than murther'd me—Ha!
I'll weep no more. How did the monſter dare?
And thou the accurſed ſlave that brought her hither;
And this the hell that holds my ſtolen treaſure.
[51] Oh! give me ſtrength of armies, righteous powers!
Sinew my arm with force omnipotent,
That I may hit the centre of his heart;
Then to you—Blaſt, blaſt me not ſweet heavens,
Going to ſtab Oſmyn.
Keep me, kind gods—Oh! keep my hands from blood.
Ha! wilt thou force him on me—Nay then, thus—
Thus let me meet the robber ere he plunders—
Seeing Almoran.
SCENE III.
HAMET, ALMORAN.
ALMORAN.
Oſmyn, what daring ſlave—
HAMET.
Strike ſwiftly then,
Stab ſure—or die.
ALMORAN.
Hamet turn'd ſlave—to murder? Moſt intrepid!
Skulks he beneath the habit of the mute
To rob the wretched vaſſal of his office?
O worthy emulation.
HAMET.
No—I cannot ſtrike—
All frantic as I am, th' unſpotted ſoul
Shudders at brother's blood—Away foul purpoſe,
Deteſted inſtrument away—Oh! Almoran,
throws away the dagger.
Ev'n ſhe who ſhar'd her matron breaſt between us,
Then died the martyr of the lives ſhe gave,
Seems beck'ning from the tomb to ward the blow:
Obey the ſummons of the ſaint who bore us,
Admit the touch of nature to thy boſom,
And open yet thy heart to meet thy brother.
ALMORAN.
[52]What ſhall I do? He melts my ſix'd reſolves,
Nor can this boſom, ſlave of every paſſion,
Thus inly touch'd, ſhrink back from his embraces.
Generous—too generous—Hamet.
embracing him.
HAMET.
Thy heart relents—
I have thee in my arms—thou art ſubdued;
'Tis the bleſt moment of returning virtue;
Truth, juſtice, and humanity prevail,
Thou art my brother ſtill—The gods be prais'd.
again embrace.
SCENE IV.
CALED and GUARDS.
CALED.
Sultan and ſovereign of the world, thy life—
Thy ſacred life's at hazard.
ALMORAN.
Said'ſt thou life?
CALED.
As at the palace gate I plae'd the guard,
Redoubling ſhouts aſſail'd my ſtarted ear;
When ruſhing on, with every ſlave in arms,
Full in the city's heart I ſaw a crowd
Of Perſian peaſants—Omar at their head—
Vollying the rights of Hamet in each ear,
'Till ev'ry gaping fool abus'd the Sultan,
And toſs'd their ſaucy turbans up for Hamet.
Injuriate Omar cried—REVENGE—when ſtraight,
With my own arm, I ſeiz'd the hoary traitor.
HAMET.
Slave, ſpeak with reverence of that noble Perſian.
ALMORAN.
[53]Swift, Oſmyn, load the bald conſpirator
With ponderous chains—Bid him expect a fate
Well ſuited to his crimes—then bring him to us.
Exit Oſmyn.
Well, young diſſembler, but deep-learned in fraud,
Well may'ſt thou ſtart; but ere the veil of night
Shall hide his ſhame from the attending croud
That cluſter curious o'er each ſcene of death,
Omar, thy oracle, ſhall bleed before thee.
HAMET.
Inſenſate as I was—how could I hope?
How could I ever frame a thought ſo wild
As to expect from that tempeſtuous ſoul
Or truth, or juſtice, pity, love, or honour:
My heart, that knows thee, throbs with keen reproach
To chide its own ſimplicity.
ALMORAN.
'Twas truth—
Haply 'twas Hamet's juſtice, love, and pity,
That bade thee try the force of artful tears,
Well manag'd warmth, and counterfeited fondneſs.
'Twas honour taught him, like an hypocrite,
To wind his ſerpent arms about my neck,
To triumph in the theft of fair Almeida;
While his arch miniſter, the virtuous Omar,
Back'd by the trait'rous phalanx he had form'd,
Concerted meaſure of eſcape and reſcue:
O flight of ſtratagem ſublime and noble!
HAMET.
I ſcorn to anſwer thee, diſnatur'd taunter.
ALMORAN.
Thou haſt prepar'd for puniſhment and priſon!
Thy heart, ſo ſkill'd in Almoran, has told thee
Theſe guards ſhall drag thee inſtant to the dungeon,
[54] Unarm'd and undefended as thou art.—
Slaves, leave the traitor free—Go, man of virtue,
Captivity would ſwell thy pride—Go, haſte,
Array thy troops, and lead them on to battle—
Ev'n to this boſom bid the ſlaves advance,
Then ſee if Almoran retreats before them—
See if thy traitors, or thyſelf, their king,
Can awe this heart, or check one promis'd joy
It made to tranſport, and the fair Almeida.
Caled, unbar the gates—Farewel! my brother—
My kind, my juſt, my honourable brother.
Going.
HAMET.
Hold—yet hold—Ah, Almoran, forbear !
If there is courage, pride, or manhood in thee,
Yet—yet deſiſt—I charge thee by the pangs—
The bittereſt pangs of conſcience and the ſoul,
Not to invade—Turn back, baſe raviſher;
Thus on my knees—
ALMORAN.
What, at thy arts again?
'Tis thus I anſwer them—I'll talk no more.
Exit, cloſing the gates againſt him, he falls.
SCENE V.
HAMET
(alone.)
Is this permitted—Is this ſuffer'd, gods?
Spurn'd to the earth—Ha! left alone—gone from me—
Gone whither!—Did he not ſay to—horror! horror!
To make a hell of heaven—My ſenſes ſhake!
The brain begins to totter on its baſis—
This is the gate that leads to Paradiſe,
riſes.
And Satan is within—Still faſt upon us.—
No means of death—The ſcymetar remov'd—
Death!—I'll not die.—Firſt grant me rich revenge.
Demons of vengeance here poſſeſs me quite;
[55] Take me infuriate—Take me to yourſelves!
Oh! bring the villain once again before me,
Arm my firm hand, and I ſhall die content.
Exit.
SCENE VI.
THE INSIDE OF THE SERAGLIO. ALMEIDA DISCOVERED IN A SUPERB APARTMENT OPENING INTO SEVERAL OTHERS MAGNIFICENTLY DECORATED. MUSIC AND VOICES, ATTEMPT HER ENTERTAINMENT BEFORE SHE SPEAKS. MUTES RICHLY DRESSED ATTENDING.
ALMEIDA.
O vain magnificence of impious grandeur—
Poor ineffectual gildings to ſet off
Th' impriſon'd victim with a ſhew of pleaſure,
Oh! for Circaſſia's unpolluted ſhores,
And all the unblemiſh'd ſcenes of guiltleſs life!
Tell me, ye inſtruments of Perſia's tyrant—
Tell me with inſtant ſpeed—Alas! ye dare not—
Chain'd, by your hapleſs ſlavery, to ſilence,
Vain is to you the bleſſed power of ſpeech.
Retire, retire—Ye may not give me comfort.
Torn from my father, Omar, Hamet too—
From Hamet—hold my heart—what have I ſaid?
It wakes a thought ſo full of tender ſorrow
I cannot bear it—it overwhelms my foul.
Reclines on one of the ſophas.
SCENE II.
Enter ALMORAN to ALMEIDA.
ALMORAN.
The burſting anguiſh ruſhes to her eye,
And her fair form, more lovely in diſtreſs,
Droops like the tender bloſſom of the ſpring,
[56] Beat by the gather'd force of pitileſs ſhowers.
Fierce as I am, unbidden ſoftneſs ſteals,
In gentleſt ſighs, from an unwonted ſource.
My very heart's ſubdued. Almeida, ceaſe—
Repreſs thoſe tears, this anguiſh, this deſpair.
I come to ſmoothe the tumults of thy boſom,
And at thy feet to lay the Perſian ſceptre.
ALMEIDA.
The Perſian ſceptre—Why muſt I reproach thee?
Such trappings are, alas! thy ſole dependance.
Keep them, my lord, to awe the vulgar mind.
The ſcepter'd conſcience wants no crown to grace it.
ALMORAN.
For thee, behold, I leave the Perſian throne—
For thee, forgetting empire and command,
Lo! Almoran now bends his knee to earth,
And, with a ſubject's low humility,
Thus deigns to court the ſmile of fair Almeida.
kneels.
ALMEIDA.
And doſt thou ſtrip me of each dearer joy,
Fix the fell poignard in the quivering heart,
And, as the ruddy life-blood guſhes from it,
Calmly ſurvey thy work, and bid me ſmile?
ALMORAN.
By Heav'n, you charge unjuſtly, my Almeida.
ALMEIDA.
Oh! Almoran, the human form is thine,
Yet where's the honour that ſhould mark thy manhood.
Reluctant thouſands call thee mighty ſovereign;
Yet where's the virtues that ſhould grace thy ſtation?
But leave me to myſelf—I'll not upbraid thee.
One mournful boon is all that I ſhall aſk;
I beg the privilege to weep alone.
ALMORAN.
Sorrow and ſolitude be far away.
[57] Thou'rt too ſevere Almeida. Long I ſtrove
To hide MY love in pity to my brother.
ALMEIDA.
He talks of pity too, who never felt it.
Where is thy brother, tyrant?—Where is Hamet?
ALMORAN.
He lives—is free—But wherefore talk of him—
Regard him not—
ALMEIDA.
Mark me, Almoran.
Thou bid'ſt me not regard him—then obſerve me!
If thy unhallow'd, deſolating hand,
In utter darkneſs could that ſpark extinguiſh,
That viewleſs, vital ſpark of heaven-born fire,
Which the Omnipotent in this true breaſt
Hath kindly kindled, here to glow for ever,
Pure as the ſource that firſt ſupplied the flame,
Then might thy priſoner ceaſe to think of Hamet.
But long as that inſpires my faithful fondneſs,
Though waters wide as yonder heaven from earth,
Though worlds remote as planets from each other,
Should from his honour'd preſence far divide me,
Still ſhould Almeida's prayers be offer'd for him—
Still ſhould her ardent tenderneſs increaſe—
And ſtill, as now, in all his pride of ſplendour,
'Midſt the vain glitter of his vacant greatneſs,
Still ſhould perfidious Almoran be ſcorn'd.
ALMORAN.
Then be it ſo—Lady, 'tis well—I'll not complain,
For the curs'd ſtripling can obſtruct no more.
ALMEIDA.
Ha!—how!—What ſaid'ſt thou?—Is it poſſible,
Thou man of blood?—Sure thy barbarian hand—
And yet I fear—for in thy ſanguine eye
Murder's inſerib'd—Yes, yes, thy ſilence ſpeaks—
[58] The characters of death are legible
In every cruel feature. Oh, diſtraction!
Here then, unnatural—here, well-pleaſed, behold,
Indulge thy genius—take thy fill of blood,
Point thy inſatiate ſabre here—yes, ſtrike;
Think me a ſiſter, and enjoy the ſlaughter.
ALMORAN.
By heav'n he lives, uncircumſcrib'd he walks
Thro' Perſia's realm, ſave this one dear apartment.
ALMEIDA.
Prais'd be the guardian god that ſhields his virtues;
Ador'd the power that watches all his ways.
ALMORAN.
Ah! laviſh not theſe raptures on a wretch,
But kindly treat thy heav'n-allotted huſband.
ALMEIDA.
Speak'ſt thou of heav'n?—and after foul detection?—
Of heav'n, where ſceptre'd virtue ſits enthron'd,
Sublime, amid'ſt the ſtars, to regiſter
The deeds of human kind. "Oh, bethink thee:
"Can he who hangs, in yonder ſpangled vault,
"The even ſcale of juſtice, e'er ordain
"That I ſhould violate this wretched form,
"And weary out a life of loveleſs perfidy?"
No, Almoran, thy prieſts have led the wrong:
Whate'er is made thy deity—ah! think not
Thou doſt him honour, when thou mak'ſt him pleas'd
With what offends the ſecret judge within thee—
Yes, ſtart; but know, inſidious king,
E'en now, thou ſtand'ſt beneath a piercing eye,
That notes thy crimes, and will one day requite them.
ALMORAN.
I thought to have ſound thee, lady, leſs reluctant:
I'll talk no more—nor have I time to loſe
In idle parly with a haughty beauty.
Thus in a word—if thou, with yielding kindneſs,
[59] Within an hour, conſent to crown my wiſhes,
The next ſhall honour thee as Perſia's queen,
(Something thou ſee'ſt I can allow to pride)
If not, then learn the iſſue—That vile boy
Who hath uſurp'd a gem, than crown more worth—
The throne of thy affections—think upon it—
Dies the ſucceeding inſtant—ſo reſolve.
ALMEIDA.
The very image hurries me to phrenzy.
See, cruel, ſee Almeida at thy feet;
She condeſcends to kneel—for whom?—Thy brother.
Is human pity quite extinct, my lord—Oh, heaven!
Where is thy nature that it ſleeps ſo ſound?
Nay, turn not from me—ſpare the generous Hamet—
Shed not thy brother's blood—Thou wilt not kill him?
ALMORAN.
'Tis in Almida's power to ſave or ruin.
ALMEIDA.
Oh, name the means—Almeida dies to ſave him.
ALMORAN.
I've mark'd out eaſier terms, thou know'ſt.
ALMEIDA.
See, Sultan, ſee! behold!—ye ſhall not ſtir.
Catches hold of him in great agony.
ALMORAN.
By hell he dies this moment—nay, thou
Shalt SEE him ſtruggling in the pangs of death;
That hoary traitor too, thy ſire Abdallah,
HE from the palace ſhall be dragg'd.
ALMEIDA.
My father!
ALMORAN.
Yes; thou ſhalt gaze upon them—powerleſs gaze—
With frantick hand tear thoſe luxuriant locks,
And ſhriek, and weary the reverberant air
With unavailing, impotent complainings.
[60] Thy tears, thy ſtrugglings, and thy woman's arts,
Aſſail in vain. Away, and hang not thus
Idly upon me, for I now can hate thee—Go—
Go and prepare for anguiſh, blood, and horror.
Exit.
SCENE VIII.
ALMEIDA.
Oh, barbarous, barbarous man, inhuman tyrant—
Then they muſt die: Well, well, I will not weep.
Am I not very patient, righteous gods?
Am I not very calm?—Yes, let them bleed,
The pitying heavens ſhall open to receive them.
Bleed! whom bleed?—My lord, my love, my father!
Oh, ſhrouding darkneſs, hide me from the ſight,
And I, I murther them—What can I do?
Point out the path to me, ſome kindly power,
Inſtruct my ſtaggering ſenſes how to act,
And ſave the innocent from the aſſaſſin.
It ſhall not be—I cannot bear the thought.
Oh, I will ſave their lov'd, their precious lives;
Prevent the fatal blow, or with them die.
END OF ACT THE FOURTH
ACT V.
[61]SCENE I.
A GRAND SALOON IN THE PALACE.
ALMORAN, CALED.
ALMORAN.
OH! torture, torture—infamous abaſement!
Shall Almoran—the oriental god—
Stoop meanly from his throne to fawn and ſigh—
To fawn and ſigh yet be repuls'd—rejected?
CALED.
Take then, my gracious lord, without delay
The offer'd remedy—a rich revenge.
ALMORAN.
What power can give it me!
CALED.
Thy faithful Caled.—
ALMORAN.
Quick pour the balſam on my bleeding wounds.
CALED.
Sultan, foul treaſon lurks around thy throne—
That ſolemn Oſmyn—
ALMORAN.
Oſmyn!
CALED.
He! my lord!—Our ever faithful Ali,
Still buſy in the ſervice of the ſultan,
Informs me of a dark conſpiracy
Plann'd by that very Oſmyn.
ALMORAN.
O the ſlave!
Th' ungrateful ſlave—
CALED.
[62]By him concerted,
Thy rival brother ſtill has power to hurt thee;
This very night, when darkneſs wraps the ſphere,
In the deep zenith of its gloom he goes,
Maſk'd in the robes of thy domeſtic Iman,
(The prieſt appointed to attend Almeida)
To meet the fair in the ſeraglio garden—
Acceſs how eaſy, by the prieſt conducted!
ALMORAN.
Perſia teems with traitors!
CALED.
This ſhallow Iman, wrought upon by Oſmyn,
Favour'd the treaſon, and betray'd his maſter.
A ſlave was truſted—Aladin the eunuch—
Obſerve the hand of heaven, my lord—As Aladin
Convey'd the borrowed robes to wily Oſmyn,
Ali perceiv'd the traitor ſteal along,
And ſoon by menaces the truth extorted:
At length the venal ſlave is wholly our's.
ALMORAN.
Down, down, aſpiring rage.—What follow'd, Caled?
CALED.
The ſlave ſecured, ſtraight Ali wrote, my lord,
To Oſmyn, in the Iman's character,
Exactly fein'd—that all things were prepared;
That Aladin by chance had met the king,
The injured Hamet, who detain'd the ſlave
'Till the bleſt hour of meeting.—Long ere that
Shall happy Almoran defeat the project—
Long, long ere that ſhall triumph o'er Almeida.
ALMORAN.
Firſt ſee that Oſmyn, and that villain Iman,
Periſh in pains unheard of—
CALED.
Leave their fate
[63] To me, my lord—but now enjoy thy victory.
Of this aſſur'd, this night they breathe their laſt.
The robes are now without, the hour advances.
ALMORAN.
Thou ready counſellor—but this voice—this face—
CALED.
Art, art, my lord.—Nature is eaſy marr'd—
The face may be conceal'd—it will be night—
Thick the diſguiſe—thou goeſt as Hamet too—
Almeida is appriz'd—expects her Hamet—
Oſmyn at hand—all ready to receive thee,
And trembling love may breathe its ſighs in whiſper.
ALMORAN.
Yet to what end this labour'd artifice?
CALED.
The end of happineſs—To make her hate
To kindle all the pride of virtue in her:
By well-ſown hints of an unbounded paſſion,
Perhaps by menac'd FORCE, and other lures,
To rouſe her fury, and provoke her ſcorn
Ev'n againſt the REAL Hamet—Then retire—
Reſume thyſelf—as Almoran appear,
And in the fever'd hour of—
ALMORAN.
Vain attempt!
Oh! impotent device to move a love,
Fix'd as the central heart within her boſom.
And how, preſumptuous, doſt thou dare to think
That Almoran will act the baſe diſſembler;
Still by thy arts impos'd, and ſtill ſucceſsleſs?
CALED.
Pardon my zealous duty, mighty ſultan,
Since 'tis thy ſacred pleaſure to reſign
The beauteous maid—perhaps—
ALMORAN.
[64]Reſign her! No!
No, by the love and rage that rends my heart,
Firſt ſhall this executing arm—Away!
The effort ſhall be try'd—Some circumſtance
Perchance may riſe—at leaſt 'twill foil the arts
Of thoſe vile minions, and ſecure Almeida:
Caled prepare the robes, and wait my coming.
Exit CALED.
Meantime this feeble traitor—Ha! he comes,
And Oſmyn too; but Caled will deſtroy—
SCENE II.
OSMYN with OMAR in Chains.
GUARDS WITH THEIR SABRES DRAWN. ALMORAN, OMAR, OSMYN.
ALMORAN.
Well, proud philoſopher, is this thy virtue?
Doſt thou at length go forth to preach rebellion?
Lo! thy reward.
OMAR.
And what, vain man, is thine?
In thy own toils entangled, ſham'd, defeated!
Treaſon and Omar never can be join'd—
What thou haft ſtyl'd rebellion, he calls juſtice!
And, deeming that a virtue—glories in it.
ALMORAN.
Thou doſt, audacious? Then ſay, rude boaſter,
What haſt thou gain'd by all this wond'rous virtue,
But ignominious chains, that now enfold thee?
And the tremendous death which waits to ſeiſe thee.
OMAR.
Thou haſt miſcounted, ſultan, of my gains,
[65] Nor can thy moſt malignant tyranny
Blaſt the bright wreathe that waits to crown my triumph.
I've acted as became me—That's a victory
Thou ne'er wilt know.
ALMORAN.
Inſenſate moraliſt!
Conduct him, Oſmyn, inſtant to his cell,
Within the traitor's cave encloſe the dotard,
And leave him to his fate.
Going.
OMAR.
A moment ſtop!
I deign to aſk it as a parting favour.
Unmov'd I heard my ſentence, Almoran,
Unmov'd ſhall brave whate'er thy pride inflicts,
To ſtop the pulſe that ſoon, without thy aid,
Would ceaſe to beat; yet a laſt pray'r remains;
Let thine own eye ſurvey me in my fall;
Let thine own eye atteſt th' unruffled calmneſs
With which old Omar lays down weary being;
And though he could not teach thee how to live,
Let him yet teach thee—what it is to die.
Going.
ALMORAN.
Exulting ſlave. Death ſhall not be thy lot,
Convey the traitor, Oſmyn, from our preſence;
Double his weight of fetters; bind them hard;
Let every crevice that admits the light,
And ev'ry wholeſome gale of heavenly air,
Save what may chain the rebel down to life,
To ling'ring, hated life, be faſt repell'd.—
See thou obey, or tremble for thyſelf.
Remember, I am Almoran, whoſe power
Can in a moment cruſh thee.—Hence!—Diſpatch.
Exit.
SCENE III.
[66]OMAR, OSMYN.
OMAR.
Unhappy, wretched, raging man, farewel!
"In what a bleſſed time his father died:
"The gods foreſaw the miſchiefs in advance,
"And took him from ſuch anguiſh to themſelves."
Come, thou diſgraceful ſervant of the guilty,
Lead to theſe glooms—I follow thee undaunted.—
Dearer to Omar far the dungeon'd darkneſs,
Than all the ſunſhine Oſmyn can enjoy,
While Oſmyn is the pandar of a tyrant.
OSMYN.
Slaves, leave your priſoner, and wait without;
Remove the maſſy bars that cloſe his cave—
I will myſelf conduct the captive thither.
Exit guards.
OMAR.
Why trifles Oſmyn with his king's command?
He ſeems diſturb'd.—
OSMYN.
Omar, thou ſtrik'ſt me hard—
Survey this face—is nought depicted there
'I hat ſpeaks an alter'd ſoul?
OMAR.
An alter'd ſoul!
OSMYN.
Yes, Omar, thou haſt ſhewn me to myſelf,
Long ſince, prepar'd to ſeize ſome fair occaſion
Of breaking from the manacles I wore—
Worſe than theſe bonds to thee—Yes, Omar, thou,
Like the pure mirror in a cherub's hand,
Hath held the hideous picture to my view,
And ſhewn to Oſmyn his deformity.
Here, by the holy pow'rs of heav'n, I ſwear—
Kneels.
OMAR.
[67]Oſmyn, forbear—If thou inded art fix'd,—
If vows have paſt between thy ſoul and thee,
Oaths are ſurperfluous, impious, and vain:
The ſolemn ſecret purpoſe be thy bond,
And note of that is mark'd above already.
OSMYN.
In all things far above me. I'll not ſwear,
But do a deed ſhall better ſpeak my truth
Than all the laviſh language of the lip.
Thy glory is at hand—thine and Almeida's.—
I have, my friend, devis'd a pious fraud
To ſerve an injur'd king. Hamet, this night,
Viſits his lov'd Almeida. That the leaſt—
Freedom and virtue will attend the iſſue—
A fit diſguiſe, already is prepar'd
A ſlave—the truſty Aladin—attends,
Silent and ſafe to guide the happy Hamet
To the appointed place.—What's further purpos'd
I will unfold hereafter.
OMAR.
Generous Oſmyn,
I need not thank thee—there's a god within
Each honeſt breaſt, that well rewards the virtuous.
What's to be done?
OSMYN.
I'll tell thee as we paſs.
A thouſand ſlaves look up to me for life;
The tyrant plac'd me o'er them for his pride;
Yet do they hate the perſon they protect.—
Theſe, at a nod, I ſummon to the cave,
Where I will now conduct thee.—There remain
Till the rich criſis of a juſt revenge.
Truſt to my ſaith, and fortune is our own.
OMAR.
[68]Now, Oſmyn, thou indeed art good and virtuous,
And with an honeſt joy my heart enfolds thee!
Embraces.
But haſte, my friend—fie on theſe loitering limbs—
Oh, that awhile I could ſhake of my age!
But even now, ſhould nature cloſe the ſcene,
Still ſhould I doubly triumph in my death,
Since I have ſerv'd my king—and ſav'd a ſoul.
Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
THE GARDEN OF THE SERAGLIO; THE MOON ABOUT TO SET.
Enter HAMET.
At length, by many a maze, I've reach'd the garden,
Scal'd the high walls, and paſs'd the ſentinels.—
Ha! at yon window flames the diſtant taper!
There! there! e'en now, perchance—O! hold my brain!
No more will I arouſe the ſons of Perſia,
But my own cauſe with my own arm avenge.
Omar, e'er this, has breath'd his lateſt prayer—
Almeida too—I will not think—Almeida!—
O! never more this ſabre will I ſheathe,
Till on its point a brother's blood!—Forgive—
Forgive me, gods!—Ye have not form'd me ſanguine:
Wrongs, wrongs have wrought me to this dire extreme.
Nor ſhall I ſtrike a brother, but a tyrant.
Remote from notice will I wait the morn,
Till Almoran, as is his cuſtom, walks
To the ſeraglio, from the palace—then
Shall injur'd Hamet pay th' important debt
He owes himſelf, Almeida, and his country.
Exit.
SCENE V.
[69]Enter OSMYN.
The moon hath veil'd her orb, a few faint ſtreaks
Silver the ſomb'rous ſhades, to note her parting.
'Tis near the moment Aladin ſhould come.
The monarch his high charge—ſoft—they're here,
Aladin leads the way.
SCENE VI.
ALMORAN
(diſguiſed).
Starts back at ſeeing OSMYN.
OSMYN.
My royal maſter,
Accept the willing homage of my heart,
A firſt fair offering at the ſhrine of virtue.
Welcome to liberty and fair Almeida.
Thy Omar's ſafe—the guards are far remov'd—
The tyrant ſleeps, perchance; or if he wakes,
Suſpects not—all's ſecure—Almeida waits
The ſignal.
ALMORAN.
This ſpeaks for me, Oſmyn.
Embracing.
Oh! Almoran, to what art thou reduc'd!
Aſide.
OSMYN.
'Tis the twelfth hour—and ſee, my gracious lord,
Faithful Almeida comes.—Thou, Aladin,
Still wait—Farewel! my lord—be happy.
I go to guard thy privacy.
Exit.
SCENE VII.
[70]ALMEIDA with CRYSANTHE, from the ſeraglio.
ALMEIDA.
This is the place my Hamet has appointed,
And this the ſilent unſuſpected hour.—
Yonder he walks, Criſanthe—O! my heart!
Going to him,
Muffled, as he now is, by night's dun ſhades
And gloomy robes, my boſom owns its lord—
My love, my Hamet!—Thus receive my welcome.
Embraces.
ALMORAN.
Her tender preſſure pays for every pang.
Aſide.
ALMEIDA.
Much did I fear the tyrant Almoran.
"Yes, gracious prince, ſtill doth thy virtuous ſpirit,
"E'en 'gainſt thyſelf, defend a brother's fame—
"Defend the man which wrongs thee"—But, nor toil,
Unwearied watchfulneſs, nor life itſelf,
Paſt in ſubſervience to his dark deſignings,
Prevents the ſudden whirlwind of his rage,
Nor checks the frenzy of that lawleſs ſoul.
ALMORAN.
Is't poſſible!
ALMEIDA.
Oſmyn has told me all—
All that relates to that perfidious monſter.
The man who ſerves him, like a wretch condemn'd,
Fancies he hears, in every paſſing gale—
That ruſhes by his dungeon, ſome ſwift fate;
The ſavage bowſtring, or the ſanguine mute.
ALMORAN
(aſide.)
Oh! agony extreme!—Said Oſmyn this?
ALMEIDA.
[71]Were this a place for words, O! much lov'd youth,
Inſulted partner of a throne degraded—
Were this a place for converſe—I could tell thee,
How ſovereign hate ſurrounds the gloomy palace,
And ſheds tremendous darkneſs o'er the ſceptre,
How all the hearts of Perſia wrung with ſlavery,
Throb in their loyal boſoms to be free—
And how that gem, which in thy father's reign
Shone brightly lambent as the flame of life—
That gem which regal power would ſeize in vain,
Prerogative uſurp, or riches bribe—
TH'AFFECTION OF HIS SUBJECTS—All is loſt:
"While hate and horror, flattery, and falſehood—
"The ſecret murmur, and the mining treaſon,
"Are gone abroad, like ſome wide-waſting peſt,
"To frighten every virtue from the empire."
ALMORAN.
Indeed!—Is Almoran?—My heart is rent.
aſide.
ALMEIDA.
But ſoon the lofty tyrant from his height—
O! my beſt Hamet, hail the radiant hour—
Falls, like a ſtar from heav'n. The time's at hand
When Hamet ſhall reſume the wreſted ſceptre;
When peace her ſacred birth-place ſhall regain,
And honeſt loyalty once more look upwards:
All Perſia watches the eventful criſis,
And not a ſlave—a vaſſal here immur'd,
But hath to virtuous Hamet vow'd allegiance:
This very night will wait his ſovereign mandate,
Avow their ſcorn of Almoran and guilt,
Led on by daring ſpirits form'd for freedom:
Shews a dagger.
And I—even I—my lord, behold am arm'd
To aid the glorious cauſe—
Ha!—thou art not well, my lord—You feel too much
[72] For an ungrateful brother—But no more
I'll name the tyrant—ſince it pains my Hamet.
Come then, my lord—behold Almeida ready;
Oſmyn conducts my ſire—Criſanthe's here,
Lead thou the way.
ALMORAN.
Soft—ſome ſafer means.
ALMEIDA.
What means remain?
ALMORAN.
The means to ſeize
That joy which ſlaviſh forms—
ALMEIDA.
Away,
Thou worſe than Almoran—Away!
ALMORAN.
Thus let me claim the rights of generous love.
ALMEIDA.
All, all but this Almeida could have borne:
Her fate was never deſperate 'till this moment.
Ev'n in the darkeſt hour of her diſtreſs,
She thought on thee—ſhe thought on virtuous Hamet;
Hoarded his fondneſs with a miſer's care;
And when the piercing ſorrow ſmote her heart,
His lov'd idea, like a charm divine,
Still'd the ſad ſigh, and check'd the falling tear.
ALMORAN.
When will Almeida from theſe dreams awake?
ALMEIDA.
Nay then 'tis time to treat thee as thou art.
In the ſoft hour of peace, I am a woman,
And not unmindful of my ſex's province;
But in the trying moment of diſhonour
draws the dagger.
[73] I tow'r above the female's fancied terrors,
And meet the ruſſian with a hero's boldneſs:
See heav'n hath arm'd my hand—Deſiſt or fall.
SCENE VIII.
Enter HAMET.
Surely I heard—
Villain forbear—O! all ye gods—Almeida!
ALMORAN
(throws off the diſguiſe.)
Ha!—Who art thou—'Tis Almoran—Ha!—Hamet!
ALMEIDA.
Almoran!—Ah! poor betray'd Almeida.
Faints.
HAMET.
Ha! betray'd!—Now then accurſed king—
They fight, ALMORAN diſarm'd.
Guilt brings the haughty tyrant to the earth—
Behold the mighty Almoran diſarm'd!
ALMORAN.
Strike—ſtrike—I will not bear the load of life.
HAMET.
I need not ſhed thy blood—Thy conſcience bleeds
Already
SCENE IX.
CALED and ALI (with lights.)
ALMORAN.
Ye loitering villains—ſeize—this inſtant ſeize—
HAMET.
Approach and die—
SCENE X.
[74]ENTER OMAR AND OSMYN, AT THE HEAD OF A LARGE PARTY.
ALMORAN.
More treaſon-ſlaves!
OMAR.
Seize, but ſhed no blood.
HAMET.
Hah!—Omar!—Oſmyn!—Almoran diſguis'd!
Oh! my brave friends, help, help, thy wretched maſter.
Riſe injur'd excellence to life and Hamet.
ALMORAN.
Kill me, ye ſlaves, and I forgive the treaſon:
Unhand me, or by heaven—O! ſhame, ſhame, ſhame!
ALMEIDA.
Profound aſtoniſhment chains every ſenſe!
Ah! righteous providence, what art's involv'd.
HAMET.
My fears for thee—
ALMEIDA.
Thy fears were vain, my lord—
Thou ſaw'ſt me arm'd—
HAMLET.
Then I am bleſt indeed—Thy father's ſafe,
And all the tears he ſheds are tears of joy.
But ſtill that hapleſs man—It wounds my ſoul
To ſee the lofty ſpirit ſinking in deſpair;
And nature yet demands a brother's pauſe
Suſpended o'er his fate.
ALMORAN.
Thou ſhalt not chain me to the wheel of life—
Fierce throes of heart, and agonies unheard of,
[75] Sit vulture-like upon—Stand off—I will not,
No—no power on earth ſhall hold the hand of juſtice:
Breaks from the guards.
Lo it is poiz'd—Brother, I owe thee much—
How then to pay thee?—thus—thus—and thus.
Stabs himſelf.
Hamet, thy fears are paſt—I faint apace—approach—
Ah! gently—Let me die upon thy boſom.
Much have I wrong'd—I can offend no more.
Dies.
HAMET.
Ha! Almoran—my brother—once lov'd friend,
Alas! too late convinc'd.
Save me, Almeida, from this dreadful ſight.
ALMEIDA.
Unhappy Almoran—My ſoul forgives thee!
OSMYN.
Hail injur'd king, the eaſtern world is thine.
HAMET.
I aſk not now the means of this ſtrange fortune;
But ere I taſte the bounty of the gods
Daſh'd with ſome bitternſs—prepare that corpſe
For the cold grave, with every regal honour:
And may his failings with his duſt be buried.
The forfeit paid, how dark ſoe'er the crimes,
'Tis our's to pardon, friends, and not to puniſh.
OMAR.
Then Perſia ſhall revive, and all be well.
Behold Ambition humbled in the duſt,
The guilty Minion trembles at his crimes,
In this good man returning virtue ſmiles,
In your bleſt ſelves, my children, we may trace
The ſure rewards of conſtancy and truth,
The meed of goodneſs—and CONSENT OF HEAV'N,
FINIS.
Appendix A EPILOGUE
[]Spoken by Miſs FARREN.
OF late at Weſt minſter *, in order due,
A gracious ſpeech firſt made, debates enſue.
Ere then, in this full houſe, our author's fate
Becomes the ſubject of your warm debate—
Ere yet you oppoſition criticks riſe
To move for cenſures, and refuſe ſupplies;
Or partial friends pour down corrupt applauſe,
By orders penſion'd in the author's cauſe,
From either party—none will ſure impeach
My ſovereign title to pronounce the ſpeech.
Thro' me the muſe her loyal ſubjects greets—
Tho' I ſpeak ſtanding, and you keep your ſeats—
Pleas'd that ſo full a houſe attends the ſummons—
Pit—Box—and Gallery—Peers and faithful Commons—
With deep concern ſhe bids me here relate
What dangers threaten the dramatic ſtate—
What hoſts of foes her tottering realms invade,
By faſhion muſter'd, and by folly paid:
While Taſte, her old ally, unmov'd we ſee,
And Spleen preſerves an arm'd neutrality.
See firſt come on—all arm'd in whale-bone hoops—
The tuneful leaders of the Italian troops.
Long have they wag'd—too oft with conqueſt crown'd—
The doubtful conflict betwixt ſenſe and ſound.
Allied with theſe—in hoſtile bands advance
The light-heel'd legions of invading France.
To point her thunders on our Britiſh coaſt,
Year after year, has been vain Gallia's boaſt.
Their troops embark—the bold attempt is plann'd—
Their heroes threaten — and their dancers land,—
Theſe only put their threats in execution,
And lay all London under contribution.
[] Immortal chiefs! who on one leg can do
What yet no warrior has atchiev'd on two.
Like Rome's proud victor, in their fierce attack,
They come, they ſee, they conquer, and—go back.
And, modern Jaſons, as of old in Greece,
Sail home triumphant with the golden fleece.
Before ſuch dangers ſhall we proſtate fall?
Or, like true Britons, boldly brave them all?
If fairly led, we'll bid their hoſt defiance,
Diſſolv'd a late unnatural alliance;
Our leader too ſhall now aſſiſtance lend,
Not promiſe ſuccours, and delay to ſend:
But chiefly here—our hopes and courage lie
In you, our trueſt friend and beſt ally—
Support our Bard to-night, and on his part
Receive the tribute of a grateful heart—
Thro' me receive, and here again I'll meet ye,
Act as ambaſſadreſs, and ſign the treaty.
Notes
*
To the Pit.
†
To the Boxes.
*
Parody on a beautiful line in Mr. Sheridan's monody.
†
See prologue to Semiramis.
*
The firſt night's repreſentation happened on the opening of parliament.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4356 The fair Circassian A tragedy As performed at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane by the author of Sympathy a poem. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5A6D-6