University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Gengis, Octar.
Gengis.
Well, hast thou seen this stubborn Mandarine?

Octar.
No fear or danger moves him from his purpose.
My Lord, I blush'd to parley in your name
With a vile slave whom you should sacrifice.
He view'd the torture with indifference,
And talk'd of duty to his King, and justice:
He braves his vanquishers; as if his voice
Prescrib'd them laws. Him and his rebel wife
At once destroy, nor languish for a slave.
Punish the hated pair, whose insolence
Affronts that power, which all the world obeys.

Gengis.
Amazement! what a people have I conquer'd!
Whence are they? whence these elevated thoughts,
This native grandeur of the noble soul,
Which we in our rough climes ne'er felt or knew?
To a King dead, each sacrificing nature,
One without murmur sees his son destroy'd,
The other for a husband asks to die:
Nothing can shake them, nothing move their fear.
Whence, whence is this? with steady reason's eye,
When fall'n, enslav'd, this people I survey,
Though conqueror, my captives I revere,
And praise their virtues, while I give them chains,
I see their labours have adorn'd the world;
I see them an industrious, noble people;
Their Kings on wisdom's basis built their power,
To all the neighbour nations giving laws,
And reigning without conquest or the sword.
Heav'n has allotted us rude force alone;
Battles our arts, and all our labours death.
Ah! what avails so much success in war?
Or what the glories of a world enslav'd?
We made the car of conquest red with blood:
Yet there's a greater fame, a nobler glory.
I'm jealous of their virtue, blush to see
The conquer'd soar above the conqueror.

Octar.
Can Gengis such a feeble race admire?
What boot their puny arts, that cannot save
The practisers from slavery or death?
The weak should serve the strong. All earth must yield
To toil and valour. Why then stain your power
By insults unreveng'd, and suffer slaves
To brave their conqu'ror? why, when lord of all,
Submit to bonds, to our brave race unknown?
And draw upon yourself reproach from those
Whose arms have made you monarch of the world?
Shall then the brave companions of your labours
See all those victories effac'd by love?
They blush at the mean thought, their souls disdain it;
And by my voice their clamours reach your ears.
In theirs, as the state's name, I call upon you.
Pardon a Tartar, pardon a rough soldier,
Grown grey in armour worn in your defence;
Who cannot see you a mean slave to love,
But presents glory to your dazzled eyes.

Gengis.
Let them seek Idamè.

Octar.
You would—

Gengis.
Obey.
Seek her. Your zeal grows troublesome and bold.
My subjects ev'n my frailties shall revere.