 | Zingis |  |
52
ACT IV.
SCENE, The Camp of Zingis.ZEMOUCA
alone.
The sun, descending from the clouded west,
Hides in the billowy Caspian half his orb.
Night comes apace. High Tugra, in a storm
Involves his summits. Thro' the aged trees,
That bend o'er Altay, from its rocky banks,
Howls the unfrequent wind. The murm'ring voice
Of Asia's gathered nations, mounts the sky,
And dignifies with awful pomp, a scene
That pleases well a soul resolv'd like mine,
To push its lofty passions to extremes.
Enter ZENA.
ZENA.
My lord Zemouca, give thy soul to joy,
Still there is hope.—The banish'd Timur bids
His friends assemble near Ovisa's tent,
'Tis thought that he will join.
ZEMOUCA.
Does Timur then
Conspire with us? I would he had remain'd
Firm to the Niron cause.
ZENA.
Thy words surprize—
ZEMOUCA.
So will my deeds. This instant I'll disclose
This plot to Zingis.—.
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Ha! What madness clouds
The reason of Zemouca? Dost thou mean
To ruin all thy friends,—to purchase peace
And infamous forgiveness, with the blood
Of those who would support thee—Draw thee forth
From the misfortunes which obscure thy life?
Go—ruin'd prince—A mind so broke as thine,
Deserves no change of fortune.
[Going.
ZEMOUCA.
Chief of Kergis,
Thou must not go—
ZENA.
Unhand me,—or, by heavens
I may prevent the meaness thou intend'st,
And to preserve thy fame, commit a deed
I should perhaps repent.—
ZEMOUCA.
My gallant friend!
Let me explain myself.—Place not to fear
The sudden resolution of a mind,
Frantic with its misfortunes.—What avails
The fall of Zingis, if his son should reign?
Nay—have Ovisa.—The detested thought
Distracts my soul.—No more—no more of Timur.
ZENA.
Yet thou didst once approve—
ZEMOUCA.
While there remain'd
A king to fill the vacant throne of Zingis,
I urg'd his son to arms: but the reward
Of his rebellion, should we now succeed,
Is the dominion of the eastern world,
For Aunac is no more.—
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Our sovereign dead!
ZEMOUCA.
Murder'd by fierce Sidasco, who o'ertook
His flight across the desart. Aunac scorn'd
To yield to rebels. With his little troop
He long sustain'd the fight, till cover'd o'er
With mortal wounds—he bow'd his hoary head,
And breath'd his sacred spirit on the winds.
ZENA.
Perdition seize the traitors.—But let rage
Give place to great revenge. We must enlarge
This breach among the Nirons—Urge the prince
With hopes of empire—Blow into a flame
Each passion in his bosom, that may tend
To rid the East of tyranny and Zingis.
And then—
ZEMOUCA.
Proceed.—
ZENA.
When the loud storm shall rise,
And tumult riots thro' the gloom of night.
While the young parricide, besmear'd with blood,
Bends o'er his father.—Hast thou not a sword?—
ZEMOUCA.
A trusty one—
ZENA.
Then plunge it in his breast,
And thro' the dark confusion of the scene,
Ascend the throne. The nations, struck with awe,
Will settle in thy presence, and look up,
As to a god, to him who dares to seize
The crown, as due to his superior parts;
Tho' not transmitted by a line of kings.
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My zealous friend—In other times than these
Thy words would much offend.—Distracted—fall'n
From every hope, ambition, love, revenge,
May drive me to a deed my soul abhors,
And stain my name with murder.—Had I been
By fortune plac'd on less unequal terms,
I would e'en scorn to be unjust to Zingis.
Enter CUBLA hastily.
CUBLA.
Zemouca—Zena—hence—away, with speed
Alarm our friends.—The tyrant in his rage,
Hastens from post to post, and is inform'd
Of our conspiracy.—
ZENA.
Then all is lost!
ZEMOUCA.
Let not despair assail your gallant minds,
One bold resource remains. Prepare your tribes
To join the fortune of Zemouca's sword.
Between this rock and Altay's rushing flood,
On a green narrow plot, conceal'd from view,
The brave remains of Timur's wasteful sword;
A few determin'd friends now stand in arms,
And wait my orders for a daring deed.
Go—quickly arm—you soon shall hear of me.—
[Exit.
(Enter an OFFICER in haste.)
OFFICER.
Ye Tartars princes—He who rules the world,
Commands your presence.
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We obey the king.
[Exit Officer.
CUBLA.
By the long honors of my noble race,
I will not go—beneath a traitor's name
To fall by Zingis. I will arm my tribe,
Avow my hatred—call the tyrant forth,
And die or conquer in an open war.
ZENA.
Ha! Would'st thou plunge thyself, thy friends, thy hopes,
In certain ruin?—Let us hence with speed
And face the tyrant.—Zingis will avoid
To feize on bare suspicion chiefs of power.
CUBLA.
But his suspicion is immediate death;
Decisively severe, he singles out
The object of his wrath, and like the flash
That bursts from heaven, blasts it e're the world
Perceive the storm is near.
ZENA.
Should he accuse,
Thro' his astonish'd guards our swords shall hew
A bloody passage to his life, and give
His guilty spirit to the rushing winds.
CUBLA.
It shall be so.—
[Exeunt.
(Enter MILA from the other side the stage.)
MILA.
My lord—my husband—Cubla—
Ha! do'st thou then forbid me to partake
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But he is gone, and left me to my fears.
How awful is this moment—On its wings
Hangs the uncertain fate of all I prize.
Enter OVISA.
OVISA.
Where is the son of Zingis?—Whither turn'd
The steps of Timur?—At an hour like this,
Oppress'd by fortune, and o'erwhelm'd by woe,
My soul demands his presence.
MILA.
Has the queen
Heard of—
OVISA.
The murder of my father, Mila—
Do I seem unconcern'd? Have not mine eyes
Some tears upon them? Do not sighs extend
At times my bosom? Dwell no signs of woe
Upon my features? Yes—my heart is hard,
Else from my grief, thou ought'st to have perceiv'd
That I had lost a father whom I lov'd.
[Weeps.
MILA.
Alas forbear—
OVISA.
Disfigur'd, from his throne
The king of Asia fell,—of a long race,
Who sat aloft in Tartary, and rul'd,
Like gods, with justice—Aunac was the last:—
For what am I?—A solitary beam,
Left by that sun behind—to shine a while
A faint memorial of our splendid line,
And then to fade in night.
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Tho' loth to add
To sorrows great like thine—to wound a soul
That feels too much already, I must tell
Some further cause of grief.
OVISA.
No—Mila—no.
Thou can'st not add to sorrows great like mine.
Forsake me—leave me—my disast'rous state,
Drives me beyond the reach of further woes.
Alas my father! Pale and cold he lies
On the bare ground, beneath the chilly blast
That howls across the desart!—Will no friend
Direct me—lead me—bear me to the place
Where murder'd Aunac bleeds in all his wounds.
Some faint remains of life may wander still
Along his cheek—may faulter on his tongue.
O let me press him in my warm embrace,
Let poor Ovisa close his dying eyes.
MILA.
Forbear Ovisa—tho' perhaps this hour
Decrees the fall of all I hold most dear.
Such is thy strain of sorrow, that my heart
Melts at thy woes, forgetful of my own.—
All may be well again.—
OVISA.
Yes—Mila, all—
But 'tis beyond the grave. This world presents
But scenes of woe, and horror to my soul.
MILA.
My brother comes,—how desp'rate is his state,
I know his purpose—my divided love
Would rend my heart: I must not tarry here.
[Exit.
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ZEMOUCA.
Thou fair sultana of the eastern world,
Behold thy slave Zemouca—On his knees
He pays that homage which a subject owes
To the remains of Aunac's royal line.
OVISA.
Arise thou friend of him who is no more.
The wayward fortune of our royal house,
Has fall'n too heavy on the faithful few,
Who follow'd us thro' ruin. Hapless prince,
The camp of Zingis is no place for thee,
Retire, and save thy life.—The royal cause
With Aunac fell forever.
ZEMOUCA.
That depends
On Aunac's daughter. If that spirit dwells
In that white bosom, and I trust it does,
Which mark'd the genius of thy noble line,
Ovisa, in her beauty, may ascend,
From the misfortunes which obscur'd her race,
And rule the nations on her father's throne.
OVISA.
No more—Zemouca—Such delusive hopes
Shall not betray me from the paths of grief.
Let me indulge my woes.—A captive here,
What can Ovisa do!
ZEMOUCA.
Not far from hence
My faithful tribe, stands ready to convey
Their beauteous sovereign.—Ere the morning dawns
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The tyrant has a foe—Charizmian Mâhmud,
Who, thund'ring round his Caspian, now prepares
For war against the Niron.—
OVISA.
Prince—no more!
I will not hence.—To move around the world,
To raise the scorn or pity of mankind;
For majesty in ruins, ill becomes
Ovisa's sex and dignity of soul.
ZEMOUCA.
Timur detains thee—Yes—thy father's foes,
His murderers, the base usurper's race,
Alone have influence with the lost Ovisa.
The faithful few—his friends in his distress,
His only friends, amidst a rebel world,
The sole supporters of his falling house,
Must not expect his daughter's grateful hand
To draw them forth from ruin.
OVISA.
Is it well
Thus to upbraid me in an hour of woe?
I thought thee gen'rous.—Can'st thou wound a heart
That feels too much already.—
ZEMOUCA.
Time is lost.—
We must away—Thy inexperienc'd youth—
My loyalty for Aunanc's race—the love
That fires this bosom—shall excuse the deed—
I must determine for thee—bear thee hence—
[Seizing her hand.
Our hope, our cause must not be lost.—This sword
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Why dost thou tremble? Struggle not my love—
Hence—hence—away—
OVISA.
Presumptuous man—forbear
This, to thy queen?—Is this thy boasted love?
Thy faith to Aunac and his royal line?
Dost thou not fear me?—hence—unhand me straight,
Or this thy sword—
[Seizing his sword.
Enter TIMUR, who draws and rushes forward, Ovisa interposes.
O spare him, daring Timur!
Unhappy man, he was the friend of Aunac,
In the misfortunes of our house he falls—
Despair invades his soul. Tho' great his crime,
Why should it cancel all? I must forgive,—
I dare not be ungrateful. Son of Zingis!
Wilt thou not hear me?
TIMUR.
Not with more regard
A voice from heaven.—Begone,—had not this place
[to Zemouca.
Been sacred like the presence of a god;
Were not Ovisa here,—thy insolence
Would meet with its desert. Go, force me not
To take that life I lately spared in war.
ZEMOUCA.
It shall be so,—a vengeance more compleat
Becomes the spirit of Zemouca's mind.
My desperate state demands decisive means
To end these ills that compass me around.
[Exit.
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Away—vain man,—thy secret schemes avail
As little, as thy valor in the field.
Come lovely mourner,—come into my arms,
O sooth a while thy fluttering soul to peace;
All is not lost. Tho' fate has been unkind,
One still remains to shield thee from thy foes.
Ovisa,—let us hence,—some faithful friends
Wait on the Altay's bank.
OVISA.
No—Timur—no,—
Determin'd to remain,—my soul is fix'd
On death or great revenge!—Shall he,—shall Zingis,—
The murderer of my father,—of my race—
Weild Aunac's scepter—while Ovisa lives?
No—should mankind in meanness bow the neck
To tyranny,—a woman's bolder hand
Shall free herself,—nay more,—shall free the world.—
Thus—thus oppress'd,—the softness of my sex
Must sink beneath the greatness of my soul.
TIMUR.
What horrid gulph is opening to my view?—
What should I do?—Here, hurried on to guilt,
By all my wrongs,—by all the pow'r of love,
And there witheld by virtue.—
OVISA.
Turn away
These dark, disorder'd looks that pierce my soul.
Reject me,—leave me,—tear me from thy heart,
I stain thy virtue, ruin all thy fame.—
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Throw the persuasive mischief from thy arms.
Alas! why am I so oppress'd by fate,
That I must urge to crimes I must abhor!—
Ha! we must part,—I am demanded hence,
I know the dreadful course I must pursue,
To calm this tempest that inflames my soul.
[going.
TIMUR.
O leave me not,—I will determine straight,—
The thought is dreadful,—must I raise these hands,
These impious hands, against a father's life,
The king of Asia—
OVISA.
Asia's king is dead,—
And Asia's tyrant triumphs in his fall.—
No son was left by Aunac to revenge
His wrongs,—his blood. The poor, distress'd Ovisa
Is faint,—is feeble,—has not aught but tears
To sooth the spirits of her murder'd race.
O quickly call me hence, ye friendly shades
Of those that are no more. Receive the last,
And the most wretched of a hapless race.
I come,—farewel—what darkness falls around!
Support me Timur.
TIMUR.
Empress of my soul!
I will support thee.—O'er her shaded brow
Life faintly strays.—Awake, my love, awake;
O leave me not to horror and dispair.
She comes,—she breaths,—my soul is fill'd with joy.
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What woud'st thou Nadir?
NADIR.
Prince thou art betray'd,
A thousand warriors, by the king's command
surround this place,—thy train already seiz'd,
Are led in chains; fierce Zena has possess'd
Each pass from hence.—At such a time of peril,
Can Nadir serve thee with his sword,—his life?
Command them freely.
TIMUR.
Leave me, generous youth,
Why shouldst thou fall,—perhaps I may demand
Thy valor in a more auspicious hour,
But now away.
[Exit Nadir.
Retire,—my love,—retire,
[to Ovisa.
Regain the tent. The tumult of the scene
Suits not the feelings of a soul like thine.
I have some friends among the warlike lines,
That threaten us around. I still may raise
Their virtue in my favor, turn the scale
Of fate, and save the first of womankind.
OVISA.
Stay, Timur, stay—
TIMUR.
The moment's on the wing
That may preserve us both.—
OVISA.
I know thy purpose.
Thou plan'st some desperate deed, and wil't retire
From thy misfortunes in the way thou lov'st.
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Depriv'd, perhaps, of means to end my grief?
It must not be,—a soul oppress'd like mine,
Throws off a woman's weakness, and demands
My share of danger—with the man I love.
TIMUR.
It shall be so, sultana of my soul,
I will remain.
Enter Zena, with guards.
ZENA.
Go soldiers,—seize the prince,
It is the will of Zingis.
TIMUR.
Faithless man;
Dost thou presume?—Dost thou not fear this sword?
Provoke me not.—With blood so base as thine,
It has not been dishonor'd.
ZENA.
Prince, forbear.—
I will not answer unavailing rage:
Now to resist, were folly.—Thousands gird
This place with an impenetrable line:
Resign thy sword.—Suspicions darkly pass
Along the soul of Zingis,—he commands,
That, for this night, his son may be confin'd
Among the warlike Kergis.
OVISA.
Timur, yield—
Alas, they are an army. Let me not
Behold the hope of Asia in his blood.
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My spirit yields not,—but thy tears prevail.
Nadir, advance; I saw thee in the field
Act well a soldier's part: receive my sword,
It is a present which I scorn to give
To any but a soldier. Chief of Kergis,
Thy honourable service is perform'd,
Conduct me hence.—
ZENA.
The orders of the king
Extend to fair Ovisa;—thro' the night,
I must convey her to the camp of Octar;
So Zingis has commanded.
TIMUR.
He who dares
To touch this goddess, with unhallowed hands,
Shall perish in her presence.—Ha! my sword,—
'Tis gone,—the moment of revenge is past,
Unhappy Timur cannot die with fame.
And shall she thus be severed from my heart?
Ovisa!
OVISA.
Timur,—fate has done its worst,
And we must part,—Lead Omrah, lead me hence.—
Detain me not, [to Timur.]
alas, to strive is vain,—
Farewel, my lord,—thou soon shalt hear of me.—
Perhaps thy cruel father will relent,
When he shall hear his rigor laid me low;
Perhaps he then may listen to thy grief,
And give what was Ovisa, to thy tears.
O place me by my father,—let his hand,
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Thro' her long slumbers in the peaceful grave.
[Exeunt Zena and guards, with Ovisa.
TIMUR
alone.
Where am I?—whither shall I turn my steps?
I'm here in darkness,—the fair light is gone,
That gilded o'er my melancholy state.—
I must resolve, she shall not thus be torn
From Timur's side.—I'll wake his armies round,
Proclaim my wrongs,—demand their aid aloud,
And save Ovisa, or my life resign.
[Going.
Enter CUBLA.
CUBLA.
'Twas nobly spoke, at length thou hast resolv'd.—
This is the time to right thyself,—thy love;—
To gain the scepter wrested from thy hand,—
To save Ovisa.—
TIMUR.
Let us hence, with speed—
She shall be rescued, or this arm shall fail.—
CUBLA.
Stop, son of Zingis,—know, the queen is safe.
The mounted squadrons wait thy last resolves,
Ere they convey her hence.—Brave Zena still
Is Timur's friend,—if Timur will be bold.
He sends thy sword to testify his zeal.
Thou wer't irresolute,—and he perform'd
Thy father's orders,—will obey him still,
Shouldst thou thy tame morality pursue.—
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It shall be so,—all further thought away.
Haste, arm the tribes,—let all the gallant chiefs
Who draw the sword for Timur, straight convene
Before Ovisa's tent.—The fire that long
Within this bosom pent, convuls'd my frame
Shall burst in thunder forth,—and shake the world.
[Exeunt.
END OF THE FOURTH ACT.
| Zingis | |