University of Virginia Library

SCENE VII.

Enter Zaphna and Palmyra.
Zaph.
My gracious lord, if malady may plead
[To Sopheian.
For errors not of will—

[Hercides kneels.
Hercid.
Ah, Zaphna—will you,
Will you behold the fosterer of your youth
Butcher'd by sudden hands?—your fond preserver—
The breast whereon your infancy was laid,
Rent in your presence?

Zaph.
Who avows a deed
So horrid?

[Lays his hand to his sword. Sopheian prevents him.
Cal.
Off, rash boy!—thou mayst avenge,
Not save him—who advances, by my life
But quickens his perdition!—Patience, friends,
You know him not—this caitiff—Come, to shrift—
It boots thee not to hesitate—dispatch
Thy villainies at large!

Hercid.
Oh, Heaven already
Hath heard the deep detail—

Cal.
Know'st thou this prince—

Hercid.
My first, and worthiest master.

Cal.
Had a brother?

Hercid.
Ay, sir, the noble Joseph—you do press me,
Even to the quickening of my crimes.

Cal.
O wretch,
How didst thou find them natured to each other?—
Of souls adverse—or twined in amity,
As brothers should?

Hercid.
No loom of shuttled threads
E'er wove so close a web.

Cal.
How grew their difference?

Hercid.
Shame would suppress the memory—'Twas then,
When the profane impostor first commenced
His dream of Heaven, into my secret soul
He warp'd his gliding legends—I did think,
That evil was the blessed act of saints,
When hallowed in the purpose.

Cal.
Hear you that, Zaphna?

Zaph.
I do hear it feelingly.

Hercid.
This my dread lord, and his all noble mate,
This bond of brotherhood, this brace of pillars,
On whom Arabia built her nest of odours,
Was I instructed to divide.

Soph.
O Heavens!

Hercid.
To him I forged a tale of pregnant lust
And treasons, working in the faithful breast
Of his most loving brother—while, to Joseph,
I framed suspicions dark, and deeds of blood,
Thro' envy stirr'd of his superior virtue.
Thus the thrice valiant Joseph was o'ersway'd
To flee the place of his respect and safety;
And by the absence of his potent arm,
Left the usurper free in his career
To lust and to ambition.

Cal.
Fare thee well—
The tale is told—Heaven take thee to his mercy!

Soph.
Pernicious slave—O treason to my peace!
'Tis lost for ever—Fool, most credulous fool,
Fit stuff for knaves to work upon—O brother,
Then thou art wrong'd, dear brother of my soul,
Wrong'd past the reach of penitence!—Ha, caitiff,
This youth and maiden too?

Hercid.
My gracious lord,
I do confess, to form them in the faith,
Young proselytes for Heaven, I did assist
To tear them from thy arms—yet, Heaven alike
Will witness for me, that my love to both,
Did pass a parent's fondness—from their infancy,
Oft in my arms, and never from my heart,
I watch'd their ways, and warded all their dangers;
Yea, to this day, when on the verge of death,
From Zaphna's lip I dash'd the poison'd cup,
Even in the tyrant's presence.

Cal.
Good, my lord!
Such deeds as these, to nature's not impassable,
Have a strong pleading.

Pal.
Might I find acceptance.

Zaph.
Let my knee speak.

Soph.
O Zaphna—O my children!—
You know not whom—it is a sum immense,
That counts our losses; uncle, brother, father,
All the dear ties!—thy precious father, Zaphna,
Shorn by this slave.

Zaph.
O grace, O earth, O Heaven!
Am I not then your son?

Soph.
Thou art indeed,
Son of my soul, loved heir of my adoption;
But he thy nobler, more exalted sire,
By nature as by worth.

Zaph.
Your servant ever—
Hear'st thou, Palmyra?

Soph.
'Tis a tale, my children,
Full of fond tears, and we will pay them amply.

Pal.
to Cal.
If, sir, you deem me worthy of a claim
In that dear kinsman; pardon my inquiry—
You seem no stranger to him.

Cal.
True, kind maid!—
And yet to speak the wonders of his pilgrimage,
His wrecks, his scapes, vicissitudes extreme,
And feats in foreign climes atchieved, the burden
Would charge a wakeful listener—Foot by foot,
Together have we trod the maze of fortune;
And arm in arm, with frost upon our helms,
Abode the tentless field—The rest is mournful—
Let his last charge suffice—“Since Heaven,” he said,
“Forbids these eyes the prospect of a brother,
“More long'd than light—be thine that blessing, Caled!
“Convince him of his servant's faith—his innocence—
“But no reproof, my friend!—And in thy sojourn,
“If thou shouldst meet with some unhappy orphan,
“Heir to his sire's misfortunes—then, my Caled—
“Think of my child, and take him to thy bounty!”

Zaph.
It is not to be born—

Soph.
Enough, enough!—
This strikes at life.

Caled.
Alas, his visage turns!—
I have gone too far—My lord, my royal master,
Pardon the fond deceit!—he lives—your servant,
Your Joseph lives—ill meriting such goodness.

Soph.
Sayst thou, great oracle?

Caled.
He stands before you.

[Throws off his disguise; Sopheian, Zaphna, and Palmyra stand some time amazed: then Sopheian rushes to his arms, while Zaphna and Palmyra kneel beside them.
Pal.
Ah—

Zaph.
Heavens!—

Soph.
The mighty powers of grace—I have him!—
Off—
Let my eye make him sure, that every sense
May seize its proper bliss—'Tis he, 'tis he—
Hear it, ye tribes of Ishmael!—Lo, Arabia!
Lo, thy returning Phænix—O, my Joseph,
No more of parting—never cross my ear,
Croak such a raven more—but thus, still thus,
[Embrace.
Even in the sleep of death, together wedded,
Till the last peal shall wake the world.

Caled.
These sobs—
These tears arrest my utterance—let them answer.

Soph.
Joseph—behold thy children!—

Caled.
O sweet maid!—
[Embraces Palmyra.
May Heaven enfold thee with a love like mine,
And clasp thee to his grace—Zaphna my child!

[Embrace.
Zaph.
O, sir—

Caled.
Why weeps my boy?

Zaph.
Unwonted feelings these, that wring the heart
With such a straight embrace.
Sons, brothers, sires, to me new comers all!
Yet nature knows, and opens for their entrance;
But answers to them with a voice so loud,
It tears the mansion inward!—Late, your Zaphna
Wanted a friend—and now, he has a father!—

Soph.
Joseph, thy compact—take Palmyra to thee;
And when thou wouldst prefer the maid in marriage,
I claim her for my Zaphna.

Zaph.
Sir—to speak—

Soph.
I see, thou canst not; thy too grateful heart
Is overcharged—O Joseph, O my brother,
Thus, like two confluent streams, in these our children,
And theirs descending, we shall flow together,
Smiling through time, and reach into eternity.

Cal.
Heaven, thou art mighty and confess'd in this!
With what an arm, through what a mortal maze,
Hast thou led forth thy servants?—Rise, Hercides!
Errors that meet reluctance in the will,
Give place for reformation—Still be near,
And let thy Zaphna find a father in thee.

Pal.
But what, alas, your censure of Palmyra,
Whose life hath been one error?

Zaph.
This, my love—
That from our present sense of previous slidings,
We gather cautious steps, and upright treading—
Zaphna hath taken a lesson from his faults,
Beyond all rules of stern philosophy—
Untutor'd as I am, and new to learn,
Where, or to whom, revealing Heaven hath sent
His outward lumination, sure I am
His inward is to all men. Is it reason?
No—'tis the Bosom'd God, the Living Sense,
That feels, not argues upon guilt or goodness.
'Tis our Internal Chymist, skill'd to try
The bullion'd dross, or gold, of every faith,
By the quick touch of his approved assay.
If that All-actuating Power, who form'd,
And fills mankind, hath stoop'd to their instruction;
'Tis to refine the principle he gives,
And not to quell the native sense of goodness.
In vain we would The Eternal Unit part—
One in the Heavens, and in the feeling heart!
His laws to his impressions must be kin:
Where GOD's without, he speaks the GOD within.