University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

Tamar walking on the roof of her father's house.
Tam.
Once, in his gentle countenance, methought,
Love grew on reverence, as my lips described
The power, the patience, purity, and faith
Of our Almighty Father!—Then I hoped
His spirit, tempered by its earthly passion,
Fast ripening for a love that never dies!—
Most strange!—Incomprehensible the more,
The more I think!—All tenderness, all love,
He seemed,—happy and social as a child:—
But now into such deeps of thought he lapses,
So like despair,—as makes me weep, or, rather,
Tremble, when snatched by some ungoverned transport—
What sounds are those?—A tumult?—'T is the cry
And rush of multitudes!—What noise is that?

(To Bagoas, who enters hastily.)
Bag.
'T is nothing, Princess.—Come within.

Tam.
Hark!—Hark!—
The clamor rises!

Bag.
Nay, most honored Princess—

(Attempts to lead her away.)
Tam.
Unhand me, slave!

Bag.
Beseech ye—stern was his command
Thou shouldst not stir abroad, or look without,
Until my lord's return. My life must answer 't.

Tam.
(looking from the parapet.)
Good heavens!—What dire disaster?—Whence that throng
Of frantic women—children—ancient men
Tearing their beards and garments—Ha! the Ark!
Abiathar and Zadok weeping by it—
The Priests and Levites—Gracious God! some foe
Hath sure surprised us!—Hear me!—People!—Friends!—

Bag.
Hark, lady!—Princess,—

(Kneels.)
Tam.
Horror! there's the King—
Barefoot—amidst his weeping household—

Bag.
No, no—

Tam.
His gray head bare—his mantle rent!—O, hear me!
(Stretching her hands to the people below.)
Look up!—O, answer me!—My father David!—

Bag.
(drawing her away.)
Cry not, but listen—

Tam.
(breaking from him, rushes again to the parapet.)
Ho! hear me!—Levites!—Friends!—Will no one answer?

Bag.
I'll answer, lady: call not to the people.

Tam.
(wildly.)
What has befallen him?—wherefore's the tumult?

Bag.
Your grandsire is no longer King.

Tam.
Alas!
Is Zion taken?

Bag.
Not by foes.—The Prince,
Your father, wears, to-day, the Hebrew crown.

Tam.
(thunderstruck.)
My father!

Bag.
Surely, Princess;—look not pale.

Tam.
(gasping for breath.)
My father—my—

Bag.
By all the gods, 't is true,—may wrath o'ertake me
If I deceive you,—crowned this day at Hebron.
What say'st?—thy white lips move—

(Tamar falls senseless.)