University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A large platform on the roof of the palace of Petronius, from which are seen spires and towers, and the broken roofs of houses, &c., with the general appearance of a ruined city, the distant parts involved in smoke. Ella is discovered with an attendant, standing on a balcony belonging to a small tower, rising from the side of the platform. As the curtain draws up the sound of artillery is heard.
Enter Othus and Marthon.
Othus.
Ah, see how sadly changed the prospect is
Since first from our high station we beheld
This dismal siege begin! 'Midst level ruin,
Our city now shows but its batter'd towers,
Like the jagg'd bones of some huge animal,
Whose other parts the mould'ring hand of time
To dust resolves.

Mar.
(coldly).
It does indeed some faint resemblance hold
To what thou hast compared it to. How is't?
Art thou not from the walls?

Othus.
No, not immediately.

Mar.
Wast thou not there when Mahomet's huge cannon
Open'd its brazen mouth and spoke to us?
How brook'd thine ears that deep tremendous sound?
The coasts of Asia and th' Olympian heights,
Our land-begirded seas, and distant isles,
Spoke back to him again, in his own voice,
A deep and surly answer; but our city,
This last imperial seat of Roman greatness:
This head of the world, this superb successor
Of the earth's mistress, where so many Cæsars
In proud successive lines have held their sway,
What answer sent she back?

Othus.
Fy, hold thy tongue!
Methinks thou hast a pleasure in the thought.
This head o' the world—this superb successor
Of the earth's mistress, as thou vainly speakst,
Stands 'mid these ages, as in the wide ocean
The last spared fragment of a spacious land,
That in some grand and awful ministration
Of mighty nature has ingulfed been,
Doth lift aloft its dark and rocky cliffs
O'er the wild waste around, and sadly frowns
In lonely majesty. But shame upon it!
Her feeble, worthless, and degen'rate sons—

Mar.
Yes, what sayst thou of them? they also are
The fragments of a brave and mighty race,
Left on this lonely rock.

Othus.
No, blast them! on its frowning sides they cluster
Like silly sea-fowl from their burrow'd holes,
Who, staring senseless on th' invader's toil,
Stretch out their worthless necks, and cry “caw! caw!”
O, Paleologus! how art thou left,
Thou and thy little band of valiant friends,
To set your manly bosoms 'gainst the tide!
Ye are the last sparks of a wasted pyre
Which soon shall be trodd'n out.—
Ye are the last green bough of an old oak,
Blasted and bare: the lovelier do ye seem
For its wan barrenness; but to its root
The axe is brought, and with it ye must fall.—
Ye are—O God! it grasps my swelling throat
To think of what ye are.

Mar.
A brave band, truly:—
But still our gallant emp'ror and his friends,
Opposed to Mah'met and his num'rous host
With all his warlike engines, are in truth
As if one toss'd against the whirl'd-up sands
Of their Arabian plains, one grasp of dust.

Othus.
Yes, they are few in number, but they are
The essence and true spirit of their kind;
The soul of thousands. A brave band they are,
Not levied by the power and wealth of states;
And the best feelings of the human heart
Have been the agents of their princely chief,
Recruiting nobly. Virtuous Sympathy,
Who on the weaker and deserted side
Her ample, lib'ral front doth ever range;
Keen Indignation, who, with clenched hand
And sternly-flashing eye, ever beholds
The high o'erbearing crest of proud oppression;
And gen'rous Admiration, above all,
Of noble deeds, whose heav'n-enlighten'd smile,
And imitative motion, ever wake
With eager heart-throbs at the glorious sight
Of manly daring, have unto their numbers
Some score of dauntless spirits lately added;
Such as would ride upon the whirlwind's back,
If it might be, and with heaven's spearmen cope.
With such a band, methinks, all things are possible.

Mar.
(smiling).
Why, thou soft man of peace,
Who in gay banquets spend'st thy giddy nights,
And o'er some sculptured stone, or ancient lore,
Each idle morning wast'st in the cool shade,
Thou speakest with a bold and warlike voice!

Othus
(throwing back his cloak, and showing under it a warlike garb, with the scarf and devices belonging to the imperial band).
Ay, and wear, too, a bold and warlike form.
Behold what now I am? Thou shrinkest back,
And lookest strangely on me: give thy lips
No friendly blessing to my new estate?

Mar.
Heaven bless the brave!

Othus.
Amen! but thou art cold.
[Sound of artillery is heard again.
O hear that sound!
Doth it not stir thee as it thund'ring growls
Along the distant shore?
[Shaking his head.
It moves thee not.
Is that the sound of female voices near us?

Mar.
Yes; seest thou not on yon high balcony
That pale and fearful maid? her watchful ear
Is ever turn'd to ev'ry distant sound.

Othus.
My gentle kinswoman upon the watch!
I know for whom she fears; nor do I marvel;
For she was present on that crowded shore,
When Genoa's captain brought his gen'rous succour,
And saw the brave contention of those men,
In their proud vessels bearing boldly on,
With wavy pendants floating on the wind,
Whose armed sides, like to a goodly bank,
Breasted the onward tide of opposition.
[Speaking with a great deal of appropriate gesture.
No wonder that her fancy has been moved!
Oh, it did stir the women on our walls—
The infants—yea, the very household curs,
That from their kennels turn'd to look upon it!—
But for that motley crowd of moving things
Which we miscall our men—Nay, by the light,
Thou too dost hear me with a frozen eye!

Enter Ella hastily from the balcony, and puts her hand eagerly upon the shoulder of Othus, who turns round surprised.
Ella.
What sayest thou of him? where fights he now?
Or on the land, or on some floating fence?

Othus.
Of whom speakst thou, fair Ella?

Ella.
Nay, nay! thou knowst right well. Did I not see thee,
High as I stood, e'en now, tossing thine arms,
And motioning thy tale with such fit gestures
As image ships and sails, and daring deeds?
Of whom speak even the beggars in our streets
When they such action use? Thou knowst right well,
Of Genoa's captain, and of none but him.
Didst see him from the walls?

Othus
(smiling).
My little kinswoman,
Thou lookest with a keen and martial eye
As thou dost question me: I saw him not;
I come not from the walls.

Ella.
Didst thou not talk of him as I descended?

Othus.
Yes, of that noble fight.—But dost thou see?
There are more warriors in the world, Ella,
[Pointing to his dress
Though men do talk of us, it must be granted,
With action more composed. Behold me now
The brave Rodrigo's comrade, and the friend
Of royal Constantine; who is in truth
The noblest beast o' the herd, and on the foe
Turns a bold front, whilst with him boldly join
A few brave antlers from a timid crowd,
That quakes and cowers behind.

Ella.
Yes, Othus, I did mark thy martial garb:
Heaven's angels bless thee!

Othus.
And earth's too, gentle Ella.

[Artillery heard again.
Ella
(to Othus, starting fearfully).
O dost thou smile, and such light words affect,
Whilst ruin growls so near us? hath sad use
Made misery and sport, and death and merriment, amiliar neighbours?—I'll into my chamber.

Enter Petronius and a disguised Turk.
Pet.
(sternly to Ella).
Yes, to thy chamber go: thou liv'st, methinks
On the house-top, or watching in the towers.
I like it not; and maiden privacy
Becomes thy state and years. (To Othus.)
Ha! art thou Othus?
Thou'rt well accoutred, sooth! I knew thee not.

Mar.
Yes, he is now a valiant soldier grown:
His Grecian lute, and pen, and books of grace
Are thrown aside, and the soft letter'd sage
Grasps a rude lance.

Ella.
Nay, mock him not, for it is nobly done.

Pet.
(sternly to Ella).
Art thou still here?
[Exit Ella, abashed and chidden.
And now, my lord,—

[Turning to Othus.
Othus
(angrily).
And now, my lord, good evening:
I too, belike, shall trespass on your patience,
If longer I remain.

[Exit
Pet.
Well, let him go, it suits our purpose better.
[Exit.
But who could e'er have thought in warlike garb
To see him guised? He, too, become a fool!

Mar.
He thought, as well I guess, to move me also
His brave devoted brotherhood to join:
This was his errand here.

Pet.
I do believe it well: for Constantine,
With many fair and princely qualities
That in his clear morn no attention drew,
Now, on the brow of dark adversity,
Hangs like a rainbow on a surly cloud,
And all men look to him. But what avails
This growing sentiment of admiration
To our good means? Good Turk, where, is thy gold?

Turk
(giving him a bag).
There, Christian, whom
I may not well call good.

Pet.
That as thou wilt: but Mahomet, thy master,
Shall find me still his faithful agent here.
This very night, as I have promised to him,
The people shall in insurrection rise,
Clam'ring to have the city yielded up;
And if your narrow caution stint me not
In that which rules the storm, it shall be raised
To the full pitch.

Turk.
And what is that, Petronius?

Pet.
More gold. Ay, by thy turban and thy beard!
There is a way to make our timid sluggards
The sultan's work within these walls perform
Better than armed men.

Turk.
And what is that, I pray?

Pet.
Why, more gold still.—
I have in pay, besides our mutinous rabble,
Who bawl, and prate, and murmur in our streets,
Prophets, and conjurors, and vision-seers,
And wise men, not a few, whose secret haunts
The timid flock to: many are the palms
That must be touch'd.—There are within our walls
Of idle, slothful citizens, enow,
If with their active master they should join,
Still to defend them: therefore, be assured,
He who shall keep this fickle, wav'ring herd
From such wise union, shall to Mah'met give
This mistress of the East.

Turk.
Fear not; thou shalt be satisfied.

Pet.
Right: let us now to work: 'tis near the time
When, from the walls returning with his friends,
The emperor his ev'ning hour enjoys,
And puts off warlike cares: now let us forth,
And urge those varlets on. (To Marthon.)

Do thou into the eastern quarter go,
And stir them up. Where is our trusty Gorbus?
The western is his province. Send him hither:
We must some counsel hold: meantime within
I wait his coming. Be thou speedy, Marthon.
[Exit Marthon. To the Turk.)
Remember, friend.

Turk.
Thou shalt be satisfied.

Pet.
Good fortune smile upon us!

[Exeunt.