University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE, a Prison. Hamet in chains.
Enter Zaphimri (disguised in a Tartar dress) with Mirvan.
MIRVAN.
There stretch'd at length on the dank ground he lies;
Scorning his fate.—Your meeting must be short.—

ZAPHIMRI.
It shall.—

MIRVAN.
And yet I tremble for th'event;—
Why would'st thou venture to this place of danger?

ZAPHIMRI.
And can'st thou deem me then so mean of spirit,
To dwell secure in ignominious safety;
With cold insensibility to wait
The ling'ring hours, with coward patience wait 'em,
O'er Zamti's house while ruin nods?—

MIRVAN.
Yet here,
Thy fate's suspended on each dreadful moment.

ZAPHIMRI.
I will hold converse with him; ev'n tho' death
Were arm'd against the interview.—

[Exit Mirvan.
HAMET,
still on the ground.
—What wouldst thou, Tartar?

ZAPHIMRI.
Rise, noble youth,—no vulgar errand mine—

HAMET,
comes forward.
Now speak thy purpose.—

ZAPHIMRI.
Under this disguise—

HAMET.
If under that disguise, a murd'rer's dagger
Thirst for my blood—thus I can meet the blow.

Throwing himself open.
ZAPHIMRI.
No ruffian's purpose lurks within this bosom.
To these lone walls, where oft the Scythian stabber
With murd'rous stride hath come; these walls that oft
Have see th'assassin's deeds; I bring a mind
Firm, virtuous, upright.—Under this vile garb,
Lo! here a son of China.—

Opens his dress
HAMET.
Yes, thy garb
Denotes a son of China; and those eyes
Roll with no black intent.—Say on—

ZAPHIMRI.
Inflam'd with admiration of heroic deeds,
I come to seek acquaintance with the youth,
Who for his king would bravely die.—

HAMET.
Say then,
Dost thou applaud the deed?—

ZAPHIMRI.
By heav'n, I do.—
Yes, virtuous envy rises in my soul—
Thy ardor charms me, and ev'n now I pant
To change conditions with thee.—

HAMET.
Then my heart
Accepts thy proffer'd friendship;—in a base,
A prone, degen'rate age, when foreign force,
And foreign manners have o'erwhelm'd us all,
And sunk our native genius;—thou retain'st
A sense of ancient worth.—But wherefore here,
To this sad mansion, this abode of sorrow,
Com'st thou to know a wretch that soon must die?—

ZAPHIMRI.
By heav'n, thou shalt not die—I come to speak
The gladsome tidings of a happier fate.—
By me Zaphimri sends—

HAMET.
Zaphimri sends!
Kind pow'rs!—Where is the king?—

ZAPHIMRI.
His steps are safe;
Unseen as is the arrow's path.—By me he says,
He knows, he loves, he wonders at thy virtue.—
By me he swears, rather than thou should'st fall,
He will emerge from dark obscurity,
And greatly brave his fate.—

HAMET.
Ha!—die for me!
For me, ignoble in the scale of being;
An unimportant wretch!—Whoe'er thou art,
I prithee, stranger, bear my answer back—
Oh! tell my sov'reign that here dwells a heart
Superior to all peril.—When I fall,
A worm,—an insect dies!—But in his life
Are wrapp'd the glories of our ancient line,
The liberties of China!—Then let him
Live for his people—Be it mine to die.

ZAPHIMRI.
Can I bear this, ye pow'rs, and not dissolve
In tears of gratitude and love?—

Aside.
HAMET.
Why streams
That flood of grief?—and why that stifled groan?
Thro' the dark mist his sorrow casts around him,
He seems no common man.—Say, gen'rous youth,
Who and what art thou?—

ZAPHIMRI.
Who and what am I!—
Thou lead'st me to a precipice, from whence
Downward to look, turns wild the mad'ning brain,
Scar'd at th'unfathomable deep below.—
Who, and what am I!—Oh! the veriest wretch
That ever yet groan'd out his soul in anguish.
One lost, abandon'd, hopeless, plung'd in woe
Beyond redemption's aid.—To tell thee all
In one dire word, big with the last distress,
In one accumulated term of horror,—
—Zaphimri!—

HAMET.
Said'st thou!—

ZAPHIMRI.
He!—that fatal wretch;
Exalted into misery supreme.
Oh! I was happy, while good Zamti's son
I walk'd the common tracts of life, and strove
Humbly to copy my imagin'd sire.
But now—

HAMET.
Yes now—if thou art He—as sure
'Tis wond'rous like—rais'd to a state, in which
A nation's happiness on thee depends.

ZAPHIMRI.
A nation's happiness!—There, there I bleed—
There are my pangs.—For me this war began—
For me hath purple slaughter drench'd yon fields—
I am the cause of all.—I forg'd those chains—
For Zamti and Mandane too—Oh! heav'ns!—
Them have I thrown into a dungeon's gloom.—
These are the horrors of Zaphimri's reign.—
—I am the tyrant!—I ascend the throne
By trampling on the neck of innocence;
By base ingratitude; by the vile means
Of selfish cowardice, that can behold
Thee, and thy father, mother, all in chains,
All lost, all murder'd, that I thence may rise
Inglorious to a throne!—

HAMET.
Alas! thy spirit,
Thy wild disorder'd fancy pictures forth
Ills, that are not—or, being ills, not worth
A moment's pause—

ZAPHIMRI.
Not ills!—thou can'st not mean it.—
Oh! I'm environ'd with the worst of woes;—
The angry fates, amidst their hoards of vengeance,
Had nought but this—they meant to render me
Peculiarly distress'd.—Tell me, thou gallant youth,—
—A soul like thine knows ev'ry fine emotion,—
Is there a nerve, in which the heart of man
Can prove such torture, as when thus it meets
Unequal'd friendship, honour, truth, and love,
And no return can make?—Oh! 'tis too much,
Ye mighty Gods, too much—thus,—thus to be
A feeble prince, a shadow of a king,
Without the pow'r to wreak revenge on guilt,—
—Without the pow'r of doing virtue right.—

HAMET.
That power will come.—

ZAPHIMRI.
But when?—when thou art lost,—
When Zamti and Mandane are destroy'd—
Oh! for a dagger's point, to plunge it deep,
Deep in this—ha!—Deep in the tyrant's heart.—

HAMET.
There your revenge should point.—For that great deed
Heav'n hath watch'd all thy ways; and wilt thou now
With headlong rage spurn at its guardian care,
Nor wait the movements of eternal Justice?—

ZAPHIMRI.
Ha!—whither has my phrenzy stray'd?—Yes, heav'n
Has been all-bounteous.—Righteous pow'rs!—
To you my orisons are due—But oh!
Complete your goodness:—Save this valiant youth;—
Save Zamti's house; and then,—if such your will,
That from the Tartar's head my arm this night
Shall grasp the crown of China—teach me then
To bear your dread vicegerency—I stand
Resign'd to your high will.—

HAMET.
And heav'n, I trust,
Will still preserve thee; in its own good time
Will finish its decrees.—

ZAPHIMRI.
Yes, Hamet, yes;
A gleam of hope remains.—Should Timurkan
Defer his murder to the midnight hour,
Then will I come,—then burst these guilty walls,
Rend those vile manacles, and give thee freedom.

HAMET.
Oh! no—you must not risk—

ZAPHIMRI.
A band of heroes
For this are ready; honourably leagu'd
To vindicate their rights.—Thy father's care
Plann'd and inspir'd the whole.—Among the troops,
Nay in his very guards, there are not wanting
Some gallant sons of China, in that hour,
Who will discover their long-pent-up fury,
And deal destruction round.—

HAMET.
What—all conven'd,
And ev'ry thing dispos'd?

ZAPHIMRI.
Determin'd!—Now
In silent terror all intent they stand,
And wait the signal in each gale that blows.

HAMET.
Why did'st thou venture forth?

ZAPHIMRI.
What, poorly lurk
While my friends die!—that thought—but, generous youth,
I'll not think meanly of thee—No—that thought
Is foreign to thy heart.—

HAMET.
But think, my prince,
On China's wrongs, the dying heroes' groans;
Think on thy ancestors.—

ZAPHIMRI.
My ancestors!
What is't to me a long-descended line,
A race of worthies, legislators, heroes,—
—Unless I bring their virtues too?—No more—
Thy own example fires me.—Near this place
I'll take my stand, and watch their busy motions,
Until the gen'ral roar;—then will I come,
And arm thee for th'assault.—

HAMET.
Oh! if thou do'st,
Yet once again I'll wield the deathful blade,
And bear against the foe.—

ZAPHIMRI.
Yes, thou and I
Will rush together thro' the paths of death,
Mow down our way, and with sad overthrow
Pursue the Tartar—like two rushing torrents,
That from the mountain's top, 'midst roaring caves,
'Midst rocks and rent-up trees, foam headlong down,
And each depopulates his way.—

A flourish of trumpets.
HAMET.
What means
That sudden and wild harmony?—

ZAPHIMRI.
Even now
The conqu'ror, and his fell barbaric rout,
For this day's victory indulge their joy;
Joy soon to end in groans—for all conspires
To forward our design—and lo! the lights
That whilom blaz'd to heav'n, now rarely seen
Shed a pale glimmer, and the foe secure
Sinks down in deep debauch; while all awake,
The genius of this land broods o'er the work
Of justice and revenge.—

HAMET.
Oh! revel on,
Still unsuspecting plunge in guilty joy,
And bury thee in riot.—

ZAPHIMRI.
Ne'er again
To wake from that vile trance—for e'er the dawn,
Detested spoiler, thy hot blood shall smoke
On the stain'd marble, and thy limbs abhorr'd
I'll scatter to the dogs of China.—

Enter Mirvan.
MIRVAN.
Break off your conf'rence—Octar this way comes.

ZAPHIMRI.
This garb will cloak me from each hostile eye;
Thou need'st not fear detection.—

Enter Octar.
MIRVAN.
There's your pris'ner.—

Pointing to Hamet.
OCTAR.
Lead him to where Mandane's matron grief
Rings thro' yon vaulted roof.—

HAMET.
Oh! lead me to her;
Let me give balm to her afflicted mind;
And soften anguish in a parent's breast.

[Exit, with Mirvan.
ZAPHIMRI.
What may this mean?—I dread some lurking mischief.—

[Exit on the opposite side.
OCTAR.
When the boy clings around his mother's heart
In fond endearment, then to tear him from her,
Will once again awaken all her tenderness,
And in her impotence of grief, the truth
At length will burst its way.—But Timurkan
Impatient comes.—

Enter Timurkan
OCTAR.
Thus with disorder'd looks,
Why will my sov'reign shun the genial banquet,
To seek a dungeon's gloom?

TIMURKAN.
Oh! valiant Octar,
A more than midnight gloom involves my soul.
Hast thou beheld this stubborn mandarine?

OCTAR.
I have; and tried by ev'ry threaten'd vengeance
To bend his soul: Unconquer'd yet by words
He smiles contempt; as if some inward joy,
Like the sun lab'ring in a night of clouds,
Shot forth its glad'ning unresisted beams,
Chearing the face of woe.—

TIMURKAN.
What of Mandane?—

OCTAR.
At first with tears and bitter lamentations
She call'd on Hamet lost;—but when I urg'd,
She still might save her boy, and save herself,
Would she but give Zaphimri to your wrath,
Her tears forgot to flow;—her voice, her look,
Her colour sudden chang'd, and all her form
Enlarging with th'emotions of her soul,
Grew vaster to the sight.—With blood-shot eyes
She cast a look of silent indignation,
Then turn'd in sullen mood away.

TIMURKAN.
Perdition
O'erwhelm her pride.—

OCTAR.
Might I advise you, sir,
An artful tale of love should softly glide
To her afflicted soul—a conqu'ror's sighs
Will waft a thousand wishes to her heart,
Till female vanity aspire to reach
The eastern throne; and when her virtue melts
In the soft tumult of her gay desires,
Win from her ev'ry truth, then spurn to shame
The weak, deluded woman.—

TIMURKAN.
Octar, no—
I cannot stoop with love-sick adulation
To thrill in languishing desire, and try
The hopes, the fears, and the caprice of love.
Enur'd to rougher scenes, far other arts
My mind employ'd,—to sling the well-stor'd quiver
O'er this manly arm, and wing the dart
At the fleet rain-deer, sweeping down the vale,
Or up the mountain, straining ev'ry nerve:
To vault the neighing steed, and urge his course
Swifter than whirlwinds—thro' the ranks of war
To drive my chariot-wheels, smoaking with gore:
These are my passions, this my only science,
Above the puling sicknesses of love.
Bring that vile slave, the hoary priest, before me.

[Exit Octar.
TIMURKAN.
By heav'n their fortitude erects a fence
To shield 'em from my wrath, more pow'rful far
Than their high-boasted wall, which long hath stood
The shock of time, of war, of storms, and thunder,
The wonder of the world!—
What art thou, Virtue, who can'st thus inspire
This stubborn pride, this dignity of soul,
And still unfading, beauteous in distress,
Can'st taste of joys, my heart hath never known?

Enter Zamti, in chains.
TIMURKAN.
Mark me, thou traitor, thy detested sight
Once more I brook, to try if yet the sense
Of deeds abhorr'd as thine, has touch'd your soul.
Or clear this myst'ry, or by yonder heav'n
I'll hunt Zaphimri to his secret haunt,
Or spread a gen'ral carnage round the world.

ZAMTI.
Thy rage is vain—far from thy ruthless pow'r
Kind heav'n protects him, till the awful truth
In some dread hour of horror and revenge
Shall burst like thunder on thee.—

TIMURKAN.
Ha!—beware,
Nor rouze my lion-rage—yet, ere 'tis late,
Repent thee of thy crimes.—

ZAMTI.
The crime would be
To yield to thy unjust commands.—But know
A louder voice than thine forbids the deed;
The voice of all my kings!—forth from their tombs
Ev'n now they send a peal of groans to heav'n,
Where all thy murders are long since gone up,
And stand in dread array against thee.

TIMURKAN.
Murders!
Ungrateful mandarine!—say, did not I,
When civil discord lighted up her brand
And scatter'd wide her flames; when fierce contention
'Twixt Xohohamti and Zaphimri's father
Sorely convuls'd the realm; did not I then
Lead forth my Tartars from their northern frontier,
And bid fair order rise?

ZAMTI.
Bid order rise!
Hast thou not smote us with a hand of wrath?
By thee each art has died, and ev'ry science
Gone out at thy fell blast—art thou not come
To sack our cities, to subvert our temples,
The temples of our Gods, and with the worship,
The monstrous worship of your living Lama,
Prophane our holy shrines?

TIMURKAN.
Peace, insolent,
Nor dare with horrid treason to provoke
The wrath of injur'd majesty.—

ZAMTI.
Yes, tyrant,
Yes, thou hast smote us with a hand of wrath;
Full twenty years hast smote us; but at length
Will come the hour of heav'n's just visitation,
When thou shalt rue—hear me, thou man of blood—
Yes, thou shalt rue the day, when thy fell rage
Imbrued those hands in royal blood—now tremble—
The arm of the Most High is bar'd against thee—
And see!—the hand of fate describes thy doom
In glaring letters on yon rubied wall!—
Each gleam of light is perish'd out of heav'n,
And darkness rushes o'er the face of earth.

TIMURKAN.
Think'st thou, vile slave, with visionary fears
I e'er can shrink appal'd?—thou moon-struck seer!
No more I'll bear this mockery of words—
Or strait resolve me, or, by hell and vengeance,
Unheard-of torment waits thee—

ZAMTI.
Know'st thou not
I offer'd up my boy?—and after that,
After that conflict, think'st thou there is aught
Zamti has left to fear?—

TIMURKAN.
Yes, learn to fear
My will—my sov'reign will—which here is law,
And treads upon the neck of slaves.—

ZAMTI.
Thy will
The law in China!—Ill-instructed man!—
Now learn an awful truth,—Tho' ruffian pow'r
May for a while suppress all sacred order,
And trample on the rights of man;—the soul,
Which gave our legislation life and vigour,
Shall still subsist—above the tyrant's reach.—
—The spirit of the laws can never die.—

TIMURKAN.
I'll hear no more.—What ho!— (Enter Octar, and guards)
—Bring forth Mandane—
Ruin involves ye all—this very hour
Shall see your son impal'd.—Yes, both your sons.—
Let Etan be brought forth.—

OCTAR.
Etan, my liege,
Is fled for safety.—

TIMURKAN.
Thou pernicious slave!
To Zamti.
Him too would'st thou withdraw from justice?—him
Would'st thou send hence to Corea's realm, to brood
O'er some new work of treason?—By the pow'rs
Who feel a joy in vengeance, and delight
In human blood, I will unchain my fury
On all, who trace Zaphimri in his years;
But chief on thee, and thy devoted race.

Enter Mandane and Hamet. Mirvan guarding them, &c.
TIMURKAN.
Woman, attend my words—instant reveal
This dark conspiracy, and save thyself.—
If willful thou wilt spurn the joys that woo thee,
The rack shall have its prey.—

MANDANE.
It is in vain.—
I tell thee, Homicide, my soul is bound
By solemn vows; and wouldst thou have me break
What angels wafted on their wings to heav'n?

TIMURKAN.
Renounce your rash resolves, nor court destruction.

MANDANE.
Goddess of vengeance, from your realms above,
Where near the throne of the Most High thou dwell'st,
Inspher'd in darkness, amidst hoards of thunder,
Serenely dreadful, 'till dire human crimes
Provoke thee down; now, on the whirlwind's wing
Descend, and with your flaming sword, your bolts
Red with almighty wrath, let loose your rage,
And blast this vile seducer in his guilt.

TIMURKAN.
Blind frantic woman!—think on your lov'd boy.—

MANDANE.
That tender struggle's o'er—if he must die,
I'll greatly dare to follow.—

TIMURKAN.
Then forthwith
I'll put thee to the proof—Drag forth the boy
To instant death.—

They seize Hamet.
HAMET.
Come on then—Lead me hence
To some new world where justice reigns, for here
Thy iron hand is stretch'd o'er all.—

[Exit, guarded.
TIMURKAN.
Quick, drag him forth.

MANDANE.
Now by the pow'rs above, by ev'ry tie
Of humanizing pity, seize me first;—
Oh! spare my child, and end his wretched mother.

TIMURKAN.
Thou plead'st in vain.—

Enter a Messenger in haste.
Messenger.
Etan, dread sir, is found.—

ZAMTI.
Ah! China totters on the brink of ruin.

Aside.
TIMURKAN.
Where lurk'd the slave?

Messenger.
Emerging from disguise,
He rush'd amid the guards that led forth Hamet;
“Suspend the stroke,” he cry'd; then crav'd admittance
To your dread presence, on affairs, he says,
Of highest import to your throne and life.

ZAMTI.
Ruin impends. (aside)
Heed not an idle boy.—

To Timurkan.
TIMURKAN.
Yes, I will see him—bring him strait before me.

ZAMTI.
Angels of light, quick on the rapid wing
Dart from the throne of grace, and hover round him.

Enter Zaphimri, guards following him.
TIMURKAN.
Thou com'st on matters of importance deep
Unto my throne and life.—

ZAPHIMRI.
I do.—This very hour
Thy death is plotting.—

TIMURKAN.
Ha!—by whom?

ZAPHIMRI.
Zaphimri!

ZAMTI.
What means my son?—

TIMURKAN.
Quick, give him to my rage,
And mercy shall to thee extend.—

ZAPHIMRI.
Think not
I meanly come to save this wretched being.—
Pity Mandane—Save her tender frame— Kneels.

Pity that youth—oh! save that godlike man.—

ZAMTI.
Wilt thou dishonour me, degrade thyself,
Thy native dignity by basely kneeling?—
Quit that vile posture.—

TIMURKAN.
Rash intruder, hence.—
To Zamti.
Hear me, thou stripling;—or unfold thy tale,
Or by yon heav'n they die—Would'st thou appease my wrath?
—Bring me Zaphimri's head.—

ZAPHIMRI.
Will that suffice?

ZAMTI.
Oh! heavens!

Aside.
TIMURKAN.
It will.—

ZAPHIMRI.
Then take it, tyrant.

Rising up, and pointing to himself.
ZAMTI., HAMET.
Ah!

ZAPHIMRI.
I am Zaphimri—I your mortal foe.—

ZAMTI.
Now by yon heav'n! it is not.—

ZAPHIMRI.
Here—strike here—
Since nought but royal blood can quench thy thrist.—
Unsluice these veins,—but spare their matchless lives.—

TIMURKAN.
Would'st thou deceive me too?

ZAMTI.
He would—

ZAPHIMRI.
No—here,
Here on his knees, Zaphimri begs to die.—

ZAMTI.
Oh! horror, 'tis my son—by great Confucius,
That is my Etan, my too gen'rous boy,
That fain would die to save his aged sire.—

MANDANE.
Alas! all's ruin'd—freedom is no more.—

Aside.
ZAPHIMRI.
Yet hear me, Tartar—hear the voice of truth—
I am your victim—by the gods, I am.—

Laying hold of Timurkan.
TIMURKAN.
Thou early traitor!—train'd by your guilty sire
To deeds of fraud—no more these arts prevail.—
My rage is up in arms, ne'er to know rest,
Until Zaphimri perish.—Off, vile slave—
This very moment sweep 'em from my sight.

MANDANE.
Alas! my husband—Oh! my son, my son—

ZAMTI.
May all the host of heav'n protect him still.

[Exeunt Zamti and Mandane, guarded by Octar, &c.
ZAPHIMRI,
struggling with Timurkan, on his knees.
Ah! yet withold—in pity hold a moment—
I am Zaphimri—I resign my crown—

TIMURKAN.
Away, vain boy!—go see them bleed—behold
How they will writhe in pangs;—pangs doom'd for thee,
And ev'ry strippling thro' the east.—Vile slave, away!

Breaks from him, and exit.
ZAPHIMRI,
lying on the ground; officers and guards behind him.
Oh! cruel!—yet a moment—Barbarous Scythians!—
Wilt thou not open earth, and take me down,
Down to thy caverns of eternal darkness,
From this supreme of woe?—Here will I lie,
Here on thy flinty bosom,—with this breast
I'll harrow up my grave, and end at once
This pow'rless wretch,—this ignominious king!—
—And sleeps almighty Justice? Will it not
Now waken all its terrors?—arm yon band
Of secret heroes with avenging thunder?
By heaven that thought (rising)
lifts up my kindling soul
With renovated fire (aside.)
My glorious friends,
(Who now convene big with your country's fate,
When I am dead,—oh! give me just revenge—
Let not my shade rise unatton'd amongst ye;—
Let me not die inglorious;—make my fall
With some great act of yet unheard-of vengeance,
Resound throughout the world; that farthest Scythia
May stand appall'd at the huge distant roar
Of one vast ruin tumbling on the heads
Of this fell tyrant, and his hated race.

[Exit, guarded.