 | The Orphan of China |  |
1
ACT I.
Enter Mandane and Mirvan.MANDANE.
No, never; Mirvan, never—still this heart
Must throb with ceaseless woe—All-gracious heav'n!
Will not this palace drench'd in gore; the crown
Of China's kings fix'd on the Tartar's brow;
Will not a tract of twenty years in bondage!
Ah! will not these suffice, without fresh cause
Of bitter anguish in Mandane's breast?—
MIRVAN.
Better suppress these unavailing tears,
This fruitless flood of grief.—
2
It will not be—
Ev'n mid'st the horrors of this dismal hour,
When fate has all transferr'd from lost Cathai
To vile barbarian hands;—in such an hour
This heart, revolting from the public cause,
Bleeds from a private source; bleeds for the woes
That hang o'er Zamti's house—
MIRVAN.
Alas! Mandane,
Amidst the gen'ral wreck, who does not feel
The keen domestic pang?
MANDANE.
Yes, all.—We all
Must feel the kindred-touch;—daily the cries
Of widows, orphans, father, son, and brother
In vain are sent to heav'n;—the wasteful rage
Of these barbarians,—these accurs'd invaders,—
Burns with increasing fire;—the thunder still
Rolls o'er our heads, threatning with hideous crash
To fall at once, and bury us in ruin.
MIRVAN.
And quickly fall it must!—The hand of heav'n
Weighs this great empire down.—
MANDANE.
Nay, tax not heav'n!
Almighty justice never bares it's arm
'Gainst innocence and truth.—'Tis Timurkan,
That fell barbarian—that insatiate waster—
May curses blast the Tartar!—he—'tis he
Has bore down all, and still his slaught'ring sword
In yonder field of death, where Corea's troops
Made their last stand for liberty and China,
Crimsons the land with blood.—This battle lost,
Oh! then farewel to all.—But, Mirvan, say,
How came the tidings?—
3
From yon lofty tow'r,
As my eyes, straining tow'rd the distant plain,
Sent forth an anxious look, thro' clouds of dust
The savage bands appear'd; the western sun
Gleam'd on their burnish'd helms;—and soon a shout
From the glad multitude proclaim'd th'approach
Of Timurkan; elated with new conquest,
The tyrant comes, and where his wrath will stop
Heav'n only knows.—
MANDANE.
Oh! there—there lies the thought
At which imagination starts, appall'd
With horror at the scene her busy workings
Have colour'd to my sight—there lies the thought
That wakens all a mother's fears—alas!
I tremble for my son—
MIRVAN.
Your son!—kind heav'n!
Have you not check'd his ardour?—with your tears,
Your soft authority, restrain'd the hero
From the alarms of war?—
MANDANE.
Alas, good Mirvan,
Thou little know'st his danger—but that truth
Must never pass these lips.—
MIRVAN.
I hope Mandane
Doubts not my honest zeal—full well you know
I bear this tyrant deep and mortal hate;
That under him I list, and wear this garb
In hopes that some occasion may arrive,
When I may strike an unexpected blow,
And do my country right.
4
Thy loyalty,
Thy truth, and honour have been ever spotless.
Besides thy wrongs, thy countless wrongs, the wounds
He gave your injur'd family and name,—
MIRVAN.
Alas! those wounds must still lie bleeding here,
Untented by the hand of time—Not all
His lenient arts, his favours heap'd upon me,
Shall cool the burning anguish of my soul.
What he, that slew my father! dragg'd my sister,
Blooming in years, to his detested bed!
Yes, tyrant, yes;—thy unextinguish'd foe
Dwells in this bosom.—Surely then to me
Mandane may reveal her griefs—her wrongs
Will add new fuel to my hidden fires,
And make them burn more fiercely.—
MANDANE.
Urge no more—
My woes must rest conceal'd—yet should the tyrant
Learn from the captives of yon vanquish'd host,
That China's Orphan breathes the vital air,
And to himself unknown within his breast
Unconscious bears the gen'rous glowing flame
Of all the virtues of his royal line;
Oh! should they know that the dear youth survives,
That for his righteous cause this war began,
Their fury then would kindle to a blaze,
Might wrap the world in flames, and in the ruin
My blameless son might perish.
MIRVAN.
Seek not thus
To multiply the ills that hover round you;
Nor from the stores of busy fancy add
New shafts to fortune's quiver.—Zamti's care
Hath still deceiv'd suspicion's wakeful eye;
5
And sacred function have diffus'd an air
Of venerable awe, which e'en can teach
These northern foes to soften into men.
MANDANE.
Yes, Mirvan, yes—Religion wears a mien
In Zamti's person so severely mild,
That the fierce Scythian rests upon his spear,
And wonders what he feels.—Such is the charm
Of heart-felt virtue; such is nature's force
That speaks abroad, and in rude northern hearts
Can stamp the image of an awful God.
From that source springs some hope:—Wretch that I am!
Hope idly flutters on my trembling tongue,
While melancholy brooding o'er her wrongs,
Lays waste the mind with horror and despair.
—What noise is that?—
MIRVAN.
Compose this storm of grief;
In ev'ry sound your fancy hears the Tartar—
Your husband this way bends—
MANDANE.
Celestial pow'rs!
What lab'ring sighs heave in his breast?—what terror
Rolls in the patriot's eye?—haste, Mirvan, hence;
Again look out; gather the flying news,
And let me know each circumstance of ruin.
[Exit Mirvan.
Enter Zamti.
MANDANE.
Zamti!
ZAMTI.
Mandane!—
6
Ah! what hast thou seen?
What hast thou heard?—tell me,—has fate decreed
The doom of China!
ZAMTI.
China is no more;—
The eastern world is lost—this mighty empire
Falls with the universe beneath the stroke
Of savage force—falls from its tow'ring hopes;
For ever, ever fall'n!
MANDANE.
Yet why, ye pow'rs!
Why should a tyrant, train'd to lust and murder,
A lawless ravager from savage wilds,
Where chearful day ne'er dawns, but low'ring heav'n
For ever rolls a turbulence of clouds;
Why should a monster thus usurp the world,
And trample fair simplicity from ill
Beneath his ruffian feet?—
ZAMTI.
Far hence, Mandane,
Those happy days, alas! are fled, when peace
Here nurs'd her blooming olives, and shed round
Her fost'ring influence.—In vain the plan
Of sacred laws, by hoary elders taught,
Laws founded on the base of public weal,
Gave lessons to the world.—In vain Confucius
Unlock'd his radiant stores of moral truth;
In vain bright science, and each tender muse,
Beam'd ev'ry elegance on polish'd life—
Barbarian pow'r prevails.—Whate'er our sages taught,
Or genius could inspire, must fade away,
And each fair virtue wither at the blast
Of northern domination.
7
Fatal day!
More fatal e'en than that, which first beheld
This race accurs'd within these palace walls,
Since hope, that balm of wretched minds, is now
Irrevocably lost.—
ZAMTI.
Name not the day
Which saw this city sack'd—fresh stream my eyes,
Fresh bleeds my heart, whene'er the sad idea
Comes o'er my tortur'd mind.—Why, cruel pow'rs!
Why in that moment could not Zamti fall?
MANDANE.
Thy sanctity, the symbol of thy God,
Made ev'n the conqueror suspend his blow,
And murmur soft humanity.—High heav'n
Protected thee for its own great designs;
To save the royal child, the new-born babe,
From the dire slaughter of his ancient line.
ZAMTI.
Yes, my Mandane, in that hour of carnage,
For purposes yet in the womb of time,
I was reserv'd.—I was ordain'd to save
The infant boy; the dear, the precious charge,
The last of all my kings;—full twenty years
I've hid him from the world and from himself,
And now I swear—Kneel we together here,
While in this dreadful pause our souls renew
Their solemn purpose.—
Both kneel.
Thou all-gracious Being,
Whose tutelary care hath watch'd the fate
Of China's Orphan, who hast taught his steps
The paths of safety, still envelop him
In sev'nfold night, till your own hour is come;
Till your slow justice see the dread occasion
To rouse his soul, and bid him walk abroad
8
Or this his soft associate, ere defeat
By any word or deed the great design,
Then strait may all your horrible displeasure
Be launch'd upon us from your red right arm,
And in one ruin dash us both together,
The blasted monuments of wrath:—
MANDANE.
That here
Mandane vows ne'er to betray his cause,
Be it enroll'd in the records of heav'n!
Both rise.
ZAMTI.
And now my heart more lightly beats; methinks
With strength redoubled I can meet the shock
Of adverse fate.
MANDANE.
And lo! the trial comes—
For see where Etan mourns—See where the youth,
Unknowing of the storm that gathers o'er him,
Brings some new tale of woe.—
Enter Etan.
ETAN.
My honour'd father,
And you, my helpless mother,—ah! where now,
Illustrious wretched pair, where will ye fly?
Where will your miseries now find a shelter?
ZAMTI.
In virtue—I and this dear faithful woman,
We ask no more.—
MANDANE.
Ah! quickly, Etan, say
What means that pallid look?—what new event
Brings on the work of fate?—
9
Say, does the tyrant
Return unglutted yet with blood?—
ETAN.
He does;
Ev'n now his triumph moves within the gates
In dread barbaric pomp:—the iron swarms
Of Hyperboreans troop along the streets,
Reeking from slaughter; while, from gazing crowds
Of their dire countrymen, an uproar wild
Of joy ferocious thro' th'astonish'd air
Howls like a northern tempest:—O'er the rest,
Proud in superior eminence of guilt,
The tyrant rides sublime.—Behind his car
The refuse of the sword, a captive train
Display their honest scars, and gnash their teeth
With rage and desperation.—
MANDANE.
Cruel fate!
ETAN.
With these a youth, distinguish'd from the rest,
Proceeds in sullen march.—Heroic fire
Glows in his cheek, and from his flashing eye
Beams amiable horror.—
MANDANE.
What of this youth?—
ZAMTI.
Be not alarm'd, Mandane—What of him?
ETAN.
On him all eyes were fix'd with eager gaze,
As if their spirits, struggling to come forth,
Would strain each visual nerve,—while thro' the crowd
A busy murmur ran—“If fame say right,
“Beneath that habit lurks a prince; the last
10
From man to man; and all with loud acclaim
Denounce their vengeance on him.—
MANDANE.
Ha! what say'st thou, Etan?
Heav'ns how each black'ning hour in deeper horror
Comes charg'd with woe!
ZAMTI.
It cannot be.—Ye vain,
Ye groundless terrors hence.—
Aside.
MANDANE.
My honour'd lord,
Those eyes upturn'd to heav'n, alas! in vain,
Declare your inward conflict.—
ZAMTI.
Lov'd Mandane,
I prithee leave me—but a moment leave me.—
Heed not the workings of a sickly fancy,
Wrought on by ev'ry popular report.
Thou know'st with Morat I convey'd the infant
Far as the eastern point of Corea's realm;
There where no human trace is seen, no sound
Assails the ear, save when the foaming surge
Breaks on the shelving beach, that there the youth
Might mock their busy search.—Then check thy fears—
Retire, my love, awhile; I'll come anon,—
And fortify thy soul with firm resolve,
Becoming Zamti's wife.—
MANDANE.
Yes, Zamti's wife
Shall never act unworthy of her lord.
Then hence I'll go, and satisfy each doubt
This youthful captive raises in my heart,
11
Protect my son, my husband, and my king!
[Exit Mandane.
Zamti and Etan.
ZAMTI.
Come hither, Etan—thou perceiv'st the toils
That now incircle me—
ETAN.
Alas! too well
I see th'impending storm.—But surely, sir,
Should this young captive prove the royal Orphan,
You'll never own th'important truth.—
ZAMTI.
Dream not, young man,
To stand secure, yet blooming into life,
While vengeance hovers o'er your father's head.
The stock once fall'n, each scyon must decay.
ETAN.
Then let me perish;—witness for me, heav'n,
Could Etan's fall appease the tyrant's wrath,
A willing victim he would yield his life,
And ask no greater boon of heav'n.
ZAMTI.
This zeal
So fervid in a stranger's cause—
ETAN.
A stranger! he!
My king a stranger!—Sir, you never meant it—
Perhaps you would explore the fiery seeds
Of Etan's temper, ever prompt to blaze
At honour's sacred name.—Perish the man,
Who, when his country calls him to defend
The rights of human kind, or bravely die,
12
And hold a council with his abject fears.
ZAMTI.
These tow'rings of the soul, alas! are vain.
I know the Tartar well—should I attempt
By any virtuous fraud to veil the truth,
His lion-rage again shall stalk abroad,
Again shall quaff the blood of innocence;
And for Zaphimri all the poor remains
Of China's matrons and her hoary sires,
Her blooming virgins, and her lisping babes,
Shall yield their throats to the fell murd'rer's knife,
And all be lost for ever—
ETAN.
Then at once
Proclaim him to the world; each honest hand
Will grasp a sword, and, 'midst the circling guards,
Reach the usurper's heart—or should they fail,
Should overwhelming bands obstruct the deed,
They'll greatly dare to die!—better to die
With falling liberty, than basely lead
An ignominious life.—Zaphimri lost,
Ne'er shall fair order dawn, but thro' the land
Slav'ry shall clank her chains, and violation,
Rapine, and murder riot at the will
Of lust and lawless pow'r.
ZAMTI.
Thou brave young man,
Indulge my fond embrace—thy lovely ardor
It glads me thus to see.—To ease at once
Thy gen'rous fears,—the prince Zaphimri's safe;
Safe in my guardian care—
ETAN.
This pris'ner, sir,
He does not then alarm you?—
13
No! from thence
I've nought to fear.—
ETAN.
Oh! sir, inform your son
Where is the royal youth?
ZAMTI.
Seek not too soon
To know that truth—now I'll disclose the work,
The work of vengeance, which my lab'ring soul
Has long been fashioning.—Ev'n at this hour
Stupendous ruin hovers o'er the heads
Of this accursed race—
ETAN.
Ruin!
ZAMTI.
I'll tell thee—
When Timurkan led forth his savage bands,
Unpeopling this great city, I then seiz'd
The hour, to tamper with a chosen few,
Who have resolv'd, when the barbarians lie
Buried in sleep and wine, and hotly dream
Their havock o'er again,—then, then, my son,
In one collected blow to burst upon 'em;
Like their own northern clouds, whose midnight horror
Impending o'er the world, at length breaks forth
In the vaunt lightning's blaze, in storms and thunder
Thro' all the red'ning air, till frighted nature
Start from her couch, and waken to a scene
Of uproar and destruction.—
ETAN.
Oh! my Father,
The glorious enterprize!
14
Mark me, young man.—
Seek thou my friends, Orasming and Zimventi.
In the dim holy cloisters of yon temple
Thou'lt find them musing—near Osmingti's tomb
I charge they all convene; and there do thou
Await my coming.—Bid them ne'er remit
Their high heroic ardor;—let them know,
Whate'er shall fall on this old mould'ring clay,
The tyrant never shall subdue my mind.
End of the First Act.
| The Orphan of China | |