Reminiscences, in Prose and Verse Consisting of the Epistolary Correspondence of Many Distinguished Characters. With Notes and Illustrations. By the Rev. R. Polwhele |
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 | Reminiscences, in Prose and Verse |  |
2
THE MERCHANT OF SMYRNA; OR, LOVE AND GRATITUDE.
AN INTERLUDE.—IN THREE ACTS.
- Hassan, a Merchant of Smyrna.
- Edwin, an English Merchant.
- Hamet, a rich Inhabitant of Smyrna.
- Kaled, an Armenian Slave Dealer.
- Andrew, Servant to Edwin.
- Ali, an old Slave of Hassan.
- Zaide, Hassan's Wife.
- Ellen, an English Lady engaged to Edwin.
- Fatima, Slave to Zaide.
- English, Spanish, Italian, &c. Slaves.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
3
[_]
Speakers' names have been abbreviated in this text. The abbreviations used for major characters are as follows:
- For Has. read Hassan
- For Zai. read Zaide
- For Fat. read Fatima
- For Kal. read Kaled
- For Span. read Spaniard
- For And. read Andrew
- For Ed. read Edwin
- For El. read Ellen
- For Ham. read Hamet
ACT I.—
SCENE I.
A Mosque. The Morning.Hassan
alone. (After offering up his orisons.)
Never, O Mahomet! to meet the beams
Of early day, did orison arise
In all thy mosques, from a more cheerful heart
Than Hassan's! I have breathed to thee the prayer
Of piety and peace. And thus of guilt
Unconscious, as my buoyant spirits dance,
I taste thy goodness in a store of bliss,
And thank thee for the treasure! It is said
Past evils are as nothing—all a dream:
—Not so. They leave a sensible impression,
Whence we are more alive to present blessings.
Of early day, did orison arise
In all thy mosques, from a more cheerful heart
Than Hassan's! I have breathed to thee the prayer
Of piety and peace. And thus of guilt
Unconscious, as my buoyant spirits dance,
I taste thy goodness in a store of bliss,
And thank thee for the treasure! It is said
Past evils are as nothing—all a dream:
—Not so. They leave a sensible impression,
Whence we are more alive to present blessings.
Not two years since, to proud Algiers (whose Dey
Defied the Sultan in piratic war)
I crouch'd a slave.—But hail, propitious morning!
Gilding yon minarets with the same glory
As just a year ago lit up my nuptials.
Yes! just a year hath pass'd, (how rapidly
Since I saluted thee my bride—the loveliest
Of all the lovely!) Strong, in sooth, the contrast
Of joy and woe! Though I'm a Mussalman
True as all Smyrna boasts, yet have I only
One wife, and should a second spouse disdain.
Defied the Sultan in piratic war)
I crouch'd a slave.—But hail, propitious morning!
Gilding yon minarets with the same glory
As just a year ago lit up my nuptials.
Yes! just a year hath pass'd, (how rapidly
Since I saluted thee my bride—the loveliest
Of all the lovely!) Strong, in sooth, the contrast
Of joy and woe! Though I'm a Mussalman
True as all Smyrna boasts, yet have I only
One wife, and should a second spouse disdain.
4
Not so my neighbours; who possess, it seems,
Two, three, or more, as wild desire may fill
Their harems. It is well our righteous law
Commands not a plurality of women:
With foreigners, embracing one, my feelings,
My sentiments accord. Whether that one
They love, I know not. But, my dearest Zaide!
In thee, my Zaide! my whole soul is center'd.
Two, three, or more, as wild desire may fill
Their harems. It is well our righteous law
Commands not a plurality of women:
With foreigners, embracing one, my feelings,
My sentiments accord. Whether that one
They love, I know not. But, my dearest Zaide!
In thee, my Zaide! my whole soul is center'd.
SCENE II.
A Breakfast-room in Hassan's House.Zaide.
(Attended by several Slaves.)
Why tarries yet my Hassan? To the mosque
Hard by, perhaps, my lord repair'd. And, slaves!
Ere—to allay the feverish heats, intenser
Each moment, you have furnish'd the sherbet's
Cool beverage, and refreshing fruits,—his presence
I trust will gladden these expecting eyes [Slaves go out.
After a long pause.
How rarely have we thus asunder wooed
The dawn. Perchance my ramble may amuse him!
But list!—I hear his footsteps!
Hassan enters.
Hard by, perhaps, my lord repair'd. And, slaves!
Ere—to allay the feverish heats, intenser
Each moment, you have furnish'd the sherbet's
Cool beverage, and refreshing fruits,—his presence
I trust will gladden these expecting eyes [Slaves go out.
After a long pause.
How rarely have we thus asunder wooed
The dawn. Perchance my ramble may amuse him!
But list!—I hear his footsteps!
Welcome, Hassan!
To us, whose pleasures rival paradise,
One hour of separation were an age.
I, too, beyond the precincts of the court
Have stepped, as these habiliments may argue
The mild air of a most delicious morning
Had lured me to the terrace; whence the view
Of our fine harbour never fails to charm
The unsated eye. The placid silken wave
With more than wonted softness seem'd to kiss
The sands, now blushing to the orient light,
Now sparkling golden radiance. Quick the breeze
Sprang up; and as the distant billow froth'd
To my excursive sight, a crowd of sail
Press'd on, and every moment more distinct,
Detain'd my lingering gaze. First, our own pendants
To larger ships attracted observation;
And next, in a variety of colours
Distinguishing the ships of other climates,
My fancy was afloat.
To us, whose pleasures rival paradise,
One hour of separation were an age.
I, too, beyond the precincts of the court
Have stepped, as these habiliments may argue
The mild air of a most delicious morning
Had lured me to the terrace; whence the view
Of our fine harbour never fails to charm
The unsated eye. The placid silken wave
With more than wonted softness seem'd to kiss
The sands, now blushing to the orient light,
Now sparkling golden radiance. Quick the breeze
Sprang up; and as the distant billow froth'd
5
Press'd on, and every moment more distinct,
Detain'd my lingering gaze. First, our own pendants
To larger ships attracted observation;
And next, in a variety of colours
Distinguishing the ships of other climates,
My fancy was afloat.
Has.
These, my sweet Zaide!
Are captur'd vessels. With the Christian name
Our warfare for a while had ceas'd: I hail'd
The peaceful calm; and when again the Crescent
Flash'd on the Cross defiance, from my heart
I griev'd; for I shall ever hold most dear
One generous Christian, who from slavery rescued—
Yes! for my Zaide rescued me. No more
(Though on my courtesies the Mufti frown)
Shall Hassan scorn a Christian.
Zai.
Surely not!
Why should we scorn the children of the Cross
Because they have not the high privilege
To know our holy prophet? Ignorance claims
Compassion. Truly do I pity them—
Nay love them, too! For some have gentle bosoms—
All, but one wife.
Has.
Oft hath “the generous Christian”
Awaken'd thy curiosity to learn
A tale which now the golden moment bids me
At length relate. Before the shrine of Allah
I vow'd a solemn vow, that every year
To come (if such were possible) should witness
My grateful purchase of a Christian's freedom.
This is our nuptial day; the brightest, Zaide,
In the whole annual round. And as those vessels
Are now importing slaves, Heaven hath vouchsafed
How signally, to bless my gratitude!
Zai.
I love thy benefactor—though to see him
Were a vain hope. But I can fancy features
Beaming angelic goodness.
6
Yes! my Zaide!
Graved is that angel image on my heart
Never to be erased. Had you but seen—
Whilst some were planning for deliverance, schemes
In sanguine mood; and with dejected air
Others stood musing;—on the floor I lay
Outstretch'd. The Algerines, that guarded us,
Mock'd at my sorrow; but I heeded not
Their scoffs, in you absorb'd. The cooling founts
That play'd beside us, to allay the heats
Of feverish noon, and from o'ershadowing roses
Flung odours, had no charms for me. I beat
My bosom, and with agonizing sighs
Deplored my destiny—when, lo! with port
Manly yet unobtrusive (as he seem'd
To shrink from meddling with a stranger's woes)
Approach'd an European, and presumed
“To hope my grief was not remediless.”
Rising, I kiss'd his garment. “Cruel fate
Hath snatch'd me from the mistress I adore—
Far, far from her (I cried) to whom ere twice
The moon could have renew'd her orb, the link
Connubial had for ever join'd me. Lone
Upon a foreign strand (since without her
The crowded city were a wilderness)
For lack of some few glittering particles—
A little yellow dust—shall I expire?”
Graved is that angel image on my heart
Never to be erased. Had you but seen—
Whilst some were planning for deliverance, schemes
In sanguine mood; and with dejected air
Others stood musing;—on the floor I lay
Outstretch'd. The Algerines, that guarded us,
Mock'd at my sorrow; but I heeded not
Their scoffs, in you absorb'd. The cooling founts
That play'd beside us, to allay the heats
Of feverish noon, and from o'ershadowing roses
Flung odours, had no charms for me. I beat
My bosom, and with agonizing sighs
Deplored my destiny—when, lo! with port
Manly yet unobtrusive (as he seem'd
To shrink from meddling with a stranger's woes)
Approach'd an European, and presumed
“To hope my grief was not remediless.”
Rising, I kiss'd his garment. “Cruel fate
Hath snatch'd me from the mistress I adore—
Far, far from her (I cried) to whom ere twice
The moon could have renew'd her orb, the link
Connubial had for ever join'd me. Lone
Upon a foreign strand (since without her
The crowded city were a wilderness)
For lack of some few glittering particles—
A little yellow dust—shall I expire?”
His eyes o'erflow'd with tears; and with a voice
Faultering from sympathy,—“Thou shalt not die
For want of a few sequins. Take these pieces—
And to thy country—to thy mistress go—
Go, and be happy!” (cried the noble stranger)
“And learn to hate no more a Christian brother.”
Faultering from sympathy,—“Thou shalt not die
For want of a few sequins. Take these pieces—
And to thy country—to thy mistress go—
Go, and be happy!” (cried the noble stranger)
“And learn to hate no more a Christian brother.”
Prostrate again I clasp'd his knees, and utter'd,
O Zaide! thy enchanting name. His own
I ask'd him; that his gold I might return
By the first freight. “Ah no (said he) I lend not—
I lend not, but I give! Excuse me, friend!
That I conceal my name.” Then, too, too courteous,
He grasp'd my trembling hand, nor seem'd to notice
My mute embarrassment, but to the ship
That hither wafted me—another Gabriel!
Guided my steps, when, both in tears, we parted.
O Zaide! thy enchanting name. His own
I ask'd him; that his gold I might return
By the first freight. “Ah no (said he) I lend not—
I lend not, but I give! Excuse me, friend!
7
He grasp'd my trembling hand, nor seem'd to notice
My mute embarrassment, but to the ship
That hither wafted me—another Gabriel!
Guided my steps, when, both in tears, we parted.
Zai.
May righteous Alla bless him! To a spirit
So liberal, life is one rich feast of pleasure.
Has.
Not to disclose the story of my ransom—
Not e'en to Zaide, till I could redeem
My pledge, was I resolved. 'Tis secrecy
That sanctifies a vow. All I could learn,
Was, that my benefactor was a merchant
From England, and that he was bound to Malta,
Where he had left the girl of his affections—
Ere this, perhaps, his bride.
Zai.
How she must love him!
SONG.
1
In vain for me the unfeeling heartAmourous ardours would impart:
Where is no generous sympathy,
Can Love breathe the tender sigh?
2
But when its kindness would embraceBounteous, all the human race,
And only is in blessing blest,
Love is Heaven in such a breast.
3
The bosom, if it beat not so,Trembles for itself alone!
But, quick to others joy or woe
Feels the world and self as one.
4
Its pity is the vernal showerFresh to every living flower;
Its love—the richer dew that glows
To give new incense to the rose
8
SCENE III.
Prospect from a Viranda of the Sea. Harbour—Ships.Hassan, Zaide, Fatima.
Zai.
My Fatima! why so much haste?
Fat.
Thy neighbour
The Armenian—whom we cannot but despise,
(Mean wretch, that battens upon human bondage),
Hath bought already half the Christian slaves,
Just landed from those vessels.
Has.
Hail, thrice hail!
The auspicious day, when I too shall set free
A fellow-creature.
Zai.
Hassan! will a female
Meet thy regard?
Has.
Why? what alarms my fair one?
Say, dost thou fear that, influenc'd by example.
Zai.
No, no—the steadfastness of my affection
Must rivet Hassan's. I would simply ask
Whether a man thy preference claims?
Has.
Aye, surely.
Zai.
Why not a woman?
Has.
'Twas a man ransom'd me.
Zai.
A woman loves thee. To redeem a female
Were a delicious offering: it would give
Like nard and frankincense, its twofold sweets
To love and gratitude.
Has.
'Tis true, my Zaide!
Yet think how friendless—how disconsolate
Is a poor man in slavery; whilst in Smyrna,
Tunis, Algiers, thy sex appears but seldom
An object of compassion. Female beauty
Finds, everywhere, a home. Then, by thy leave,
I will release a man.
[Exit Hassan.
Zai.
Well—be it so
9
SONG.
1
Of female slaves—O! I could cryTo hear the piteous story—
But—that a maid he would not buy—
Why, somehow—I'm not sorry.
2
I have been told, that, at the bestThere's constancy in no man;
And mutable is every breast,
The sport of witching woman.
3
Well—my good husband—I am sure—Delights to do his duty:
But might there not be some strange lure,
Ah me! in a new beauty?
SCENE IV.
Zaide, Fatima.Zai.
My husband means to celebrate this day
With high festivity; and to adorn
My person (beauteous to his partial eyes),
Bade me, with all this gold, buy pearls and jewels!
Yet a thought strikes me. 'Tis, I'm sure, a project
Would please my lord. But hark—I hear a noise—
'Tis that relentless Kaled, with his slaves,
Arrang'd below.—I cannot view those wretches—
I cannot listen to their clanking chains!
Let us retire, and I will tell thee all.
Fatima
(loitering behind).
SONG.
1
Now, what silly fancy or idle caprice, isJust hatch'd in my mistress's brain, I can't guess!
All I know is—I wish I had so many pieces:
Heigho! I would buy such a beautiful dress.
2
O! then I would deck me all over with pearls,And to turban of diamond solicit applause,
And, as envy or jealousy fired all the girls,
My bosom would pant till it kindled the gauze.
10
3
And then from my locks a profusion of muskShould drop, like Arabia distilling perfumes;
And amidst its cool shadows when evening grew dusk,
And the aloes burnt bright to illumine the rooms,
4
I would join in the dance, and to frolicksome measuresWould trip it away, like the antelope nimble;
While mirth's antic train and the rosy-lipp'd pleasures
In rapture should bound to the strokes of the cymbal.
ACT II.—
SCENE I.
A square before Kaled's House; Kaled with his slaves for sale; viz. a Spaniard, a Portuguese, an Italian, an English Attorney or Solicitor, a Clergyman, a Senator, &c. &c. Edwin an English Merchant, and Andrew his servant.Kal.
No, by the Sultan's soul, in the slave traffic
So quick a market ne'er did I experience.
A slave indeed— Enter Hassan, overhearing him.
Well, neighbour! How goes trade?
Kal.
Bad, bad enough.—This is, of course, the tone.
Sellers must grumble.
(aside)
Has.
These, then, are the beings,
Ill-fated, whom their fellows dare reduce
Low as the grazing brute! How blest were I,
Could I but ransom all! Yet, if discernment
Guide my goodwill, perhaps I may select
From the sad group the most deserving object.
(To the Spaniard)
Pardon me, friend, thy country?
His proud looks
Check my enquiries.
(aside.)
Span.
I'm a gentleman
From Spain.
Has.
The Spaniards are a high-bred race:
What art thou, friend?
Span.
A gentleman.
11
But, say,
To what profession bred? What can'st thou do?
(Spaniard, sulkily.)
Nothing.
Has.
Then am I sorry for thy chains—
Chains that must gall indeed!
Kal.
A gentleman! Mere lumber it should seem.
Has.
(to the Portuguese)
Thy grave demeanor
And robe, have a portentous air! Who art thou?
Portuguese.
I am a grand Inquisitor of Lisbon.
Has.
Inquisitor? I know too well thy office.
Inquisitor.
My office and my boast is to defend
Religion against heretics.
Has.
By poison
And fire and dagger! Once I narrowly
Escaped a persecuting monk like thee,
Whose ghastly frown, whose menaces yet freeze
My blood with horror. From the secret glooms
Of subterranean chambers had he hurl'd
The mandate that shrinks up the mortal heart.
How numerous on the agonizing wheel
Writh'd his pale victims, and in pangs expired.
How many a Jew he sentenc'd to the flames!
How many a Turk—how many a Christian—rued
The violation of the Friday's fast
In death—what unconvicted thousands died,
Were vain to tell!
Inquisitor.
O were this infidel clime
But subject to my power, I would regale
Thine eyes with such a spectacle of carnage!
From stakes of criminals I would light up
Into a blaze the shore and the broad sea.
Kal.
(shrugging his shoulders.)
The monster!—
How shall I dispose of him?
We shall be burnt alive.
Has.
(to the Italian.)
And who art thou?
Italian.
A virtuoso.
Has.
I don't understand thee.
Italian.
A connoisseur in the fine arts. Of pictures,
Cameos, statues, coins—I fix the value
12
I likewise sing melodiously. My warblings
To operas could attract enamoured throngs.
Has.
I fancy thou art doubly qualified,
Fit to amuse our harems or to guard them.
(To the Solicitor)
Thy calling, friend?
Solicitor.
The law.
Has.
How? What? (The Solicitor looks sly, and is silent.)
The Clergyman interposing.
Thy tongue
I have heard voluble enough, though now
'Tis closed in silence.
(Turning to Hassan,)
Sir, his business
Is to examine with a prying eye
His neighbour's property; to give advice
To clients, and for every word of counsel
To pocket clinkers; to sow all around him
The seeds of variance; e'en in desperate cases
To promise sure success: whoe'er may gain
The victory, he gets cash.
Has.
But, dost thou lend
In every case thy services to all?
Solicitor.
The law, Sir, is for all.
Has.
I see thy meaning.
The law it seems, thou canst distort at will,
To suit thy client.
The Clergyman.
Such is his adroitness.
Has.
(Turning to the Clergyman.)
Well, Sir! and may I now presume to ask
In candour that thou tell me—
The Solicitor
(eagerly).
What he is?
A revolutionist; who against marriage
(Obedient to a senator, his patron,)
Publish'd a treatise to disgrace the Church;
Who bowing to his master's nod, hath wrested
Babes from their parents, like another Spartan,
And all in one hot seminary planted
The blighted sucklings; who from schools to boroughs
13
In his reforming rage!—Such be assured,
Such is the hallow'd minister, whose works
The trump of Fame proclaims as patriotic.
But to the senator I leave the task
Of blazoning his own merits.
The Senator.
I—I—I
Has.
(turning abruptly to Andrew in contempt of the Senator.)
Thy honest face and rude simplicity
Plead strongly for thee. Who art thou?
And.
No claim
To thy regards have I—a labourer's son,
Brought up to labour.
Kal
Aye, and all the others
Weigh'd against thee, would kick the beam.
And.
Of late
A master I have served, whose destiny
Is a poor recompense for all his goodness.
Has.
Thou, too, art British, I perceive. With faults
To cloud their virtues, still I reckon Britons
(Maugre solicitors and patriots) foremost
In kind humanity.—Thou shalt be free.
And.
Good Mussulman! if thou vouchsafe to Britons
Thy favour, there is one deserves it well.
I have no parents to require my succour;
No wife; no children. Long inured to hardships
Pity me not, but ransom my poor master.
Has.
What do I hear?—Thy master, noble slave.
Where is thy master?
And.
There, beneath the weight
Of sorrow sunk indeed.
Has.
Then, let him speak—
But O! his griefs are sacred, and would seek
Concealment. (he pauses and looks at Edwin.)
Allah! righteous Allah! whom
Whom do I see?—No—I am not mistaken!
He, he himself, my Christian friend, who snatched me
From slavery and from death!
(embraces him.)
14
Ho! ho! 'tis well—
The English have a proverb—“Love or money.”—
But Kaled can link love and cash together!
Kind couple, every hug shall cost a sequin!
Yes, they are dear embraces.
(aside)
Has.
My best friend!
(again embracing.)
Kal.
A friend! why yes, a friend is of great price.
A rare commodity!
Has.
How wonderful
This incident! Know, I had vow'd a vow
To emancipate each year a Christian slave,
In memory of thine image—of thy goodness!
Hither I hasten'd to fulfil that vow,
And lo!—thyself—
Ed.
O, my misfortunes!
Has.
All—
They are all gone, if Hassan can disperse them.
Kaled, thy price?
Kal.
Five hundred sequins
Has.
Well!
I would not grudge a million!
(giving him the money)
Ed.
Godlike spirit!
Kal.
Now, by my mother's scalp, fool, fool am I!
(aside.)
Has.
Leave us together, Kaled. 'Tis but right
I should enjoy my benefactor's presence.
Kal.
'Tis just, for he is thine—follow me, slaves.
And.
(to his master)
Adieu, my master!
Ed.
Hassan, this good servant—
But can I ask?
Has.
Pardon my heedless haste—
Here, Kaled
(offering him money).
Kal.
No—a servant so devoted,
And not a gentleman, is worth his weight
In gold.
Has.
Two hundred sequins—say what more
Dost thou expect?
(giving him money.)
Kal.
(aside)
How prodigal of wealth
Perhaps—it just occurs, a lucky thought—
15
May touch his woman-heart. Hassan! I'm sure (aside.)
If that Italian prompt to warble airs
So languishingly sweet, moved not thy pity;
The Spaniard—woe begone—
Has.
I see thine aim,
But cannot ransom all.
Kal.
Most readily,
I'll lose one half.
Has.
Impossible!
Kal.
Away, then—
SONG.—Kaled.
Off, supple Solicitor!
And Mr. Inquisitor!
Seize the poor squeaking eunuch—go, pounce on the sinner;
And Mr. Inquisitor!
Seize the poor squeaking eunuch—go, pounce on the sinner;
And thou do-nothing Don!
And thou—many in one—
Baby-Stealer
And Dealer:—
To your cells begone quickly—I haste to my dinner
And thou—many in one—
Baby-Stealer
And Dealer:—
To your cells begone quickly—I haste to my dinner
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Turret and Garden below.SONG.
(From the Turret, by a Female Captive, to her Harp.)1
Amidst this murky tower,Shall Hope yet gild the hour,
And Fancy's glowing visions round me rise?
Alas! if Hope illume,
Or Fancy chase the gloom,
Appall'd by wan Despair, how soon each phantom flies.
16
2
In every fairy dreamMy dancing spirits seem
Thro' gay green meads—my native haunts—to rove!
Then, clasp'd in his fond arms,
I yield my virgin charms
To all the chaste delights of wedded love.
3
Ye dear illusions, stay—But fast ye faint away!
I see him droop, the unpitying tyrant's slave.
No more in rapturous trance
To meet my kindling glance,
He grasps, ah cold embrace! the shadows of the grave!
4
For me—relentless Fate!Ere purple pomp await
The rude caresses of some Turkish lord,
May this lorn turret dark
Quench my last living spark—
O ne'er to light again, to balmy light restored!
5
Then, midst my murky towerShall Hope yet gild the hour,
And Fancy's glowing visions round me rise?
Alas! if Hope illume—
Or Fancy chase the gloom,
Appall'd by wan Despair, how soon each phantom flies.
SONG.
By Zaide, in answer to the Captive's Song, which she overheard from the Garden below the Tower.1
Whitening with bloom the bank beneath,That silver almond seems in sighs
To whisper, as the Zephyrs breathe,
How fast its fleeting blossom dies!
2
The plaintive bird from yonder sprayBends o'er the rose's blushing leaf:
And gentle Pity fain would say,
She chaunts some tale of widowed grief.
17
3
But 'tis not love inspires the tonesThat melt amidst the warbling shade,
Or to the breath of Zephyr moans
Where fast the silver almonds fade.
4
Yet, in the turret-glooms above,From some complaining Captive part
Sighs—that, alas! but serve to prove
Their source is sorrow of the heart.
SCENE III.
Enter Hamet, in a violent hurry.Ham.
Kaled! Take back
Thy slave, or to the Cady!
That Senator, Sir Simon!—Take, Sir, take him—
Give me my money. He has sown sedition
Already in my harem. Through one girl
Who from my flexible—too trusting fondness
Much freedom had enjoy'd, he gain'd access
To others, ere an hour had pass'd! Away
With thy complaints—the Cady, be assured,
Will do me justice.
SCENE IV.
The Tower at distance.Hamet.
Kaled, introducing Ellen, an English Lady.
SONG.—Hamet.
1
Of females I have such a store,I scarcely want a mistress more!
Then if she be a high-priced lady,
I must betake me to the Cady.
18
2
Egypt gives maids to my caressesWith large black eyes and ebon tresses,
That o'er their bosoms hang so shady.—
I'll go at once, then, to the Cady.
3
From Araby such lovely bloom,And breath, like its own rich perfume—
Sweet as the balsam of Engedi!
I must away, then, to the Cady.
4
And of Circassians all so fair—With azure eyes and golden hair,
Be sure I have enough already!—
I'm off, this instant to the Cady.
5
Yet stay.—In her may Hamet getThe pleasure of a brisk brunette!
And all disputes this lively lady
May settle—better than the Cady.
SONG.—Kaled.
1
By the roof of Heaven! To theeThere's nothing like variety!
Stock like thine one seldom see'th—
Pretty girls with laughing teeth
2
White as hailstones in the breaches;Cheeks of down like melting peaches;
Locks like scorpions all so curly;
(Oh my brain runs hurly-burly).
3
But in all the virgin-trade.Never did I buy a maid,
Or, Sir!—may I bear the blame! sell
Sweet as this surpassing damsel!
19
4
What a prize to thee I tender!—Shape, as any pinetree slender;
Fine expression, like the gazelle, (lifting her veil.)
From her lovely eyes of hazel;
5
Lashes dark her eyelids fringing,And her cheeks carnation tinging;
Such a sunny, sweet complexion
Claims thy humble genuflexion!
El.
O England! Oh! my country!
Ham.
Hoh! hoh! a patriotic lady!
I'm off this instant to the Cady!
[Exit.
Enter Ali.
Ali.
The Prophet bless thee! Hast thou a good choice
Of virgin captives?
Kal.
Caitiff!—not for thee.
Ali.
Is she the female, who in yonder tower
Was prisoned?
Kal.
Yes. But e'en thy master's purse
Were vainly emptied to redeem a virgin
Born for seraglios. Not eight hundred sequins
Would purchase her.
Ali.
Unveil her, Kaled.
Kal.
(starting)
What!
Dost thou presume—How lucky, by my mother's—
My mother's hairy scalp—how lucky I! (aside)
Behold her, as I lift the vale that shades
Her beauties like the eyelids of the morning.
(Kaled has caught the cant!) (aside.)
Thro' opening clouds!
A misty morning, by the bye! Wipe off
Thy tears!
Ali.
A Christian! Yet I pity her!
20
Kal.
No—
Her price is eight.
Ali.
(giving Kaled the money.)
Say not who purchased her.
Kal.
Don't kill thyself, sweet mourner! from the vapours,
After the fashion of thy country. [Ex. all but Kaled.
Oh!
My bowels yearn'd within me. But these shiners—
Delicious opiates! They have power to still
Pity's commotions—aye, to quiet conscience!
ACT III.—
SCENE I.
Hassan's Garden.Hassan. Edwin.
Has.
Friend! for thy greeting I reserve my Zaide,
(Her who is mine—mine only by thy goodness)
Till, soon at our high bridal feast, she burst
Upon thy sight “the fairest among women.”
Meantime, I would fain ask, tho' my tongue falters,
Where is thy lady, whom from Malta's isle
—Forgive me! I intrude upon thy sorrows.
Ed.
Lost!—lost, I fear for ever.
Has.
How, my friend?
Ed.
Together were we taken, and this morning
Were landed.
Has.
Hah!—And did the base Armenian
Purchase her also?
Ed.
Aye.
Has.
Then from his fangs
To rescue her, I fly.
Ed.
My Hassan!—Oh!
(opprest with gratitude)
21
SCENE II.
A Moonlight Harbour in Hassan's Garden.Edwin
alone.
SONG.
1
Fly, fly, my godlike Hassan!Since none (thy actions prove)
Pure honour thee surpass in.
O bring me back my love!
2
I fear, some dire despoilerMay rifle all her charms;
But nought on earth can soil her—
Oh, give her to my arms!
3
Tho' Freedom's orb hath risen,To fling a gleam on me;
Yet is the world a prison,
My Ellen! without thee.
Enter Zaide.
Zai.
If I intrude upon thee, gentle stranger!
My fault is gratitude. To thee I owe
My all of life.
Ed.
Hail, thou beloved of Hassan!
SONG.—Zaide.
1
They told me, when my love was gone,And drooping low, I wept alone;
Suffused with moisture, eyes so blue
Were like two violets bathed in dew;
And, as my cheeks did tears disstain,
They were as lilies wet with rain.
22
2
Ah! the big drops had—sooth to say—Well nigh the violet wash'd away;
And, rains too heavily descending,
The lilies from their stalks were bending:
But the sun beam'd—the storm was o'er—
And all was brighter than before.
3
Thou wert that sun! Thy friendly powerIllumes with joy the genial hour;
I welcome in that open smile
A courteous spirit free from guile:
Take, O my heart's warm wishes take;—
I love thee for my Hassan's sake!
To thee, as to a brother, I unveil me!
But hark, my friend! Amidst the leaves I hear
A rustling as of footsteps!—We must part!—
Yet would I whisper to thee some glad tidings.
(still more alarmed, they draw closer.)
Ed.
O let me clasp thee—fold thee in my arms
And thus—
(kissing her.)
Zai.
Sir! Sir! forbear!—But I suppose
Such is the custom of thy country!—Hark!
Some listener still!—Farewell, my gentle stranger!
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
Hassan's own Chamber.Hassan
alone.
Alas! the morning rose and promised pleasure!
But oh! malignant, thro' yon dark-red cloud
I see pale disappointment and despair.
I hasten'd—on the wings of Hope I hasten'd
To ransom the betrothed of him, whom falsely
I deem'd my friend! But she was gone. A chill
Of terror froze my veins. Home I return'd;
And hearing Zaide had prepared no dresses
23
With strange misgivings sought the bower. O Allah!
What stayed the avenging arm? I could have rush'd
Upon the murmuring paramours, and plung'd
Into their faithless hearts this thirsty sabre!
But my whole frame was palsied. Like a coward,
Struck by blood-guiltiness, I slank away,
And to my chamber fled to catch dishonour
Blushing from yon connubial couch. But, Hassan!
Meet her!—If resolution strengthen not
Thy trembling arm, despair shall give it vigour!
The Curtain Drops.
SCENE V.
A magnificent Saloon.Hassan, Zaide.
Has.
My brain is fired! No—no—it could not be
—It was delirium all! Not adjurations
Heap'd upon adjurations, should persuade me
That thou wert false.—Yet where were Hassan's senses?
Did I not see thee, through the conscious foliage,
That seem'd to drink up the whole lunar radiance,
To throw a broader light on thy adultery;
Did I not see thee all thy charms disclose
To feed his fierce desires?—Did I not hear thee
Whisper the softness of thy sighs, to sighs
That melted into thine. And—O perdition!
Did I not see that burning kiss, that sealed
Thy perjury, wicked woman? Yes! I heard, too,
Thy lovesick fond apology, fair trait'ress!
'Twas but a custom of the charming English—
An innocent English custom! Yet to thee
It seem'd no novelty at all! 'Tis true
A higher colour kindled up thy cheeks;
But 'twas the feverish flush that only spoke
24
An English custom! Yes? And I suppose
To lavish all upon a specious stranger—
All that a poor duped husband had design'd
In honest pride, for nuptial decorations;
—This, also, is an innocent English custom! [Enter a Female in a Turkish dress, veil, &c. &c.
But who comes hither! What! Dost thou insult me,
Scorn me?—O agony! Still, still this sabre— [While he bites his lips in agony, and brandishes his sabre, Zaide sings in an affectedly insulting air.
SONG.—Zaide.
1
Lord and Master! yet withhold,Stay the sabre from my blood!
Yes! my Master, what is gold—
Gold—to love and gratitude?
2
Aye—for him I spent my treasure;Why—oh, why this jealous mood?
Is there any earthly pleasure
Without love and gratitude?
3
Thou, with all the diamond's splendour,Bad'st the bride her form obtrude;
But what value would it lend her—
Without love and gratitude?
4
'Twas for him I scorn'd each jewel—Pearls nor gems would passion prove!
Spare—O spare me—though so cruel,
I resign them all—for love!
Has.
Cease, cease thy mockery. Hither slaves conduct
Her paramour— (Edwin is introduced.)
—Know, stranger! thou art punish'd
25
Thy mistress is no more—to thee at least
For ever lost!—
[Whilst he is speaking, the veiled Lady rushes into Edwin's arms.
Ed.
O Ellen!
El.
O my Edwin.
(she faints in his arms.)
Zai.
(after a long pause, in a tone of conscious elevation)
See, Hassan! see—for toys that idly glitter,
A worthier offering to the gentle powers
Of love and gratitude. It is thy gift.
El.
(recovering and falling at Zaide's feet.)
Madam! I owe thee more than worlds—my life
My love!
Zai.
The debt is mine,
To thy betrothed I owe my husband.
Has.
O mysterious heaven!
Zai.
Hassan, thy story of the Female Captive
From Edwin torn, no sooner reached my ears,
Than I determined with thy gold to purchase
And at the feast present her—sweet surprise—
To my dear husband! How my heart exulted!
Flush'd with success, I to the garden flew
And whisper'd to the stranger—oh, too rashly—
The happy tidings. Hence the unlicens'd transport
That well might raise alarms e'en in thy bosom,
Ingenuous as thou art. I was too ardent—
Unthinking—but I know thou wilt forgive me.
Has.
Forgive thee, Zaide! I have truly cause
To ask from thee forgiveness. Shame upon me—
Shame—that my mean suspicion should have clouded
One moment of this golden day! I see thee
Unspotted purity—angelic goodness!
But I can only ask my Zaide's pardon. (they embrace.)
[hand in hand, she sings.]
26-32
SONG.—Zaide.
1
O too lightly I, this morn,Boasting of our peerless joys,
Said, as if in impious scorn,
They were those of Paradise.
2
Much I fear, the Prophet's power,To avenge his slighted name,
Sent me to the garden-bower,—
Smote thee with a jealous flame.
3
Then, more modest let us bearWhilst on earth, our earthly joys
We are, sure, the happiest pair—
Only—not in Paradise!
THE END.
| Reminiscences, in Prose and Verse | |