University of Virginia Library

Gulnare's Chamber.
Evening, towards sunset. Gulnare, seated at the open window, with a lute, singing.

Enter Gulnare's Nurse, laughing.
Nurse.
Ha! ha! ha! ha! Well, I am past my prime,
And many things I've seen. Ha! ha!

Gulnare.
Is that
A thing to laugh at?

Nurse.
No, to weep for, child.
But this is not the reason why I laugh;
No, no, 'tis something so ridiculous,
I never laughed in all my life before
With better cause.

Gulnare.
What is it?

Nurse.
It is a thing
To make folks in their senses weep. Lord, Lord,
The miserable devil! 'Tis really hard,
To lose one's wits so utterly as this!

Gulnare.
A sorry case, indeed. So, prithee, take
Good care to keep your own. What is the matter?

Nurse.
There's a man down there in the market-place,
Carries a basket full of fine new lamps;
The prettiest copper lamps were ever seen;
Ha, ha! and he is selling them; ha, ha!

Gulnare.
Well, I see nothing mad in that as yet.

Nurse.
Patience, my child! To sell, I grant you, is
Not madness; nay, 'tis excellent good sense,
When one can turn a profit by one's wares.
But what now would you fancy, the old ass
Is asking for a new lamp in exchange?

Gulnare.
I cannot say.

Nurse.
An old, a rusty one!

Gulnare.
How, want to get an old lamp for a new?

Nurse.
Now, isn't it a thing to make one split?

Gulnare.
Nonsense, you have misunderstood the man.

Nurse.
Not understood him? Wait! See, here he comes!
He's right beneath the window. Listen! Hark!
Judge for yourself, if you mistrust my ears.
(Noureddin is heard calling in the street—“New lamps for old ones! Who'll buy?”)
Now then, what say you? He, 'tis very plain,
In old lamps only traffics, not in new!
As I'm a sinner, 'tis the craziest wretch
That walks the earth! With what a haughty air
He looks about; what cunning in his eye,
As though he thought his lure was sure to take.
Dear, dear! Heaven pity the unhappy wretch!
Do you observe, how he keeps ogling us,
As though he meant to say,—Now, won't you buy?
My daughter, I've a notion in my head;
Two days ago I spied, in the great hall,
A battered, old, black, rusty copper lamp,
Lying behind a pillar, out of sight.
Some slave most probably had left it there.
What say you? Shall I send a servant straight,
Into the street to sell it to this fool.
I'm dying to make sure if he's in earnest,
Or only playing off some paltry hoax.
You've no objection, have you, ladybird?

Gulnare
(looking out).
'Tis very odd! There, sure enough, he stands,
And freely gives new lamps away for old.
He sees us now,—holds up his lamps to us,
Making them gleam and glitter in the sun.
They're really pretty things, these copper lamps:
I have a great mind to have one of them.

Nurse.
Do, darling, do; it would be glorious.
They are so neat, and quite as bright as gold.
A lamp like that is most convenient;
A lamp like that—

Gulnare.
Away, and get one of them!
[Exit Nurse.
There's something in the features of the man,
That I should know. He has a gloomy look.
Poor soul! How could he well look otherwise?
His brain is crazed, that's easy to be seen.
And yet—ah, I'm a child, a very child!

Nurse
(returns).
I have dispatch'd a slave into the street
With the old rusty lamp.

Gulnare.
Oh tell me, nurse,
Does it not strike you, that this crazy wretch
Resembles very strongly some one else,
Whose features are familiar to you?

Nurse.
No.
You know I live a very private life,
And to the madhouse I have never been;
There, doubtless, there be many quite as bad.

Gulnare.
Do you remember, nurse, the pretty tale
Aladdin told us once about the boy,
Whom the magician wickedly contrived
To shut within the cave, when he refused
To give him up the treasure he had found there?

Nurse.
I only heard the first part of the tale.
The fact is, that when any one begins
A doleful story, I go fast asleep,
Else weep I must. I have a tender heart,
And cannot bear to have my feelings racked.
But what should bring this tale into your head?

Gulnare.
You know, that even from childhood every tale
I heard became as real to my mind,
As it had passed before my eyes. The people
Appeared like the acquaintances of years;
The place, a spot I had myself explored.
Thus in that boy I evermore have seen
No other than Aladdin. The magician
I've pictured to myself; and is't not strange?
The image, which my fancy fashioned, bears
A marvellous resemblance to this man.

Nurse.
Accident, pure accident, my precious pet,
A simple trick of fancy, take my word.
But hush, the slave approaches with the lamp.
Ha, now the comedy begins indeed.
See, what delight is sparkling in his eyes,
The stupid dolt! We cannot be too grateful,
That all our faculties are spared to us.
Just look; he lets the slave choose which he will.
Oh, if he'd only take that little one!
He takes the biggest! Abou, oh you dunce,
Why didn't you pick out the smallest? Fool!
Well, well, it doesn't signify; the big one
Is very pretty. And a well-sized lamp
Burns better than a small one all the night.
Look there! The bargain's struck. And the poor fool
Turns up the street among the little boys.
He looks nor left nor right, but holds straight on,
For all the world as if he'd found a prize.
He turns the corner.—Now he's out of sight.
(Looks at the Princess.)
Good gracious me, my child, what ever ails you?
You tremble and look pale.

Gulnare.
Alas, dear nurse,
I feel a sudden sinking at the heart,
A strange misgiving—

Nurse.
Wait, my sweetest, wait!
I'll fetch the camphor mixture instantly.
(Aside, as she goes off.)
The pretty darling! Here be signs indeed!
Well, all is as it should be. They are young:
She is a handsome woman, he a man;
None of your Saladins, to freeze and quake
All night upon the house-top. Ah, young rogue,
Could I have ever dreamt such things of you,
When I have seen you with your toys at play?
Well, 'tis the course of nature; every age
Has its peculiar toys to play withal.

[Exit.
Gulnare
(seats herself at the window, and leaning her head upon her hand, gazes out upon the landscape).
The sun has scarcely set behind the wood,
And see, where shines the moon, a fiery red!
The evening roses 'gin to droop and pale,
And the cold night-wind moans among the trees.
From the horizon clouds are rising fast,
And all the arch of heaven grows sad and drear,—
A funeral vault, where through a broken wall
Of rifted clouds the sickly moonbeams shine;
The beautiful glad lamp of day has sunk,—
Darkness doth shroud the world as with a pall,
And from their lairs do noisome serpents crawl.

(Falls into a reverie.)