University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.—

SCENE I.

Serinda. The Brahman.
The Brah.
Say, whence, then, all this reverence for the gods,—
For India? Whence this zeal for rites and customs
Sacred to thy religion and thy country?
What! dost thou fear the flame; henceforth to rank
Among the weak deserters of their duty,
Thou, who art deem'd a heroine? Or, if terror
Repel thee not, wilt thou disdain the honours
That crown the faithful widow, who ascends
The funeral pile;—provoking Hindoo tongues
To brand thee with impiety? Remember!
'Twas by thy order, from the boiling caldron
That death was pour'd into the ears of her
Who from her husband's pyre had turn'd reluctant!
The young and beauteous widow scream'd for mercy,
Till, agonized to madness, she expired.

Ser.
Nay, nay, my counsellor! whose will, thou know'st,
Is mine; whose instant word hath—like the rod
Of necromancer, smooth'd the passions, swelling
Impetuous in my bosom—thou cans't see
In my aversion to those mournful rites,
Nor cowardice, nor contempt. Thou art aware,
To fit me for the holy immolation,
I must retreat from all the passing scene
At once, into the silence of seclusion.
But hath not active virtue worth superior
To a tame sacrifice? A living spirit
To an expiring soul? To tear the princess
From that insidious Nazarite, to recover
The tottering throne from the base grasp of Christians—
Thus living, sure 'tis better far to live,
Than to abandon duty and to die!
Yet do I bend to thee, submitting all
To thy sagacious guidance—and assured
That, soon as with the husband's ashes mingle
The relics of Serinda, thou wilt offer
The Princess Theodora to the wrath
Of Indra! Hark! already from below,
Already hiss the fiercest of the desert,
Prompt at my beck and Indra's, to destroy
The fair apostate. Yet, if one short meeting
(Ere to my tomblike chamber I retire)
Thy wisdom wink at, I will set before her,
Free for her choice, to dazzle or dismay,
A sceptre or a sepulrche.

The Brah.
Then go—
And know, that, soon as “with the husband's ashes
Shall mingle his Serinda's, I will offer
The Princess Theodora to the wrath
Of Indra,” if thy gracious terms of pardon
The maid despise, incontinently clinging
To her fond love—if she reject Prince Saib.

Ser.
This ring, with magic powers endued, be thine,
Thine, for Serinda's sake. It will detect
The irresolute, and call up, in loud thunders,
A troop of Genii to bear off the faithless,
To where Varoona rides the crocodile,
Lashing the darksome surge, or sabred Vayoo,
His whirlwind mounts, amid the fainting stars
Of heaven! Farewell, hoar Sage!

SCENE II.

An open Balcony.
Serinda
alone.

Theo.
No—no—weak woman as I am.
Was it thy notion that such glittering baubles
Could lure me from my faith?—that e'en thy terrors,
With all the howling forest at thy heels,
Could shake my steady purpose? No, Serinda!
Though I may shriek, my soul shall never faulter.
Writhing in torture, I may plead for mercy,
But not to Thee. He, who hath stores of comfort,
Who heals the broken-hearted—He will hear—
The Father of the fatherless, who listens
To the poor orphan's prayers, can mitigate
The pangs of cruel Death. He, He will hear,
And turn the moan of anguish, to a sigh
Of pleasure.

Ser.
Be it so!—The experiment
Shall straight be tried. 'Twere barbarous to put off
The promise of such exquisite enjoyment!
Guards! seize her—throw her down— (The Guards seizing her, the Brahman rushes in.)

—What! stand ye rooted?
Chain'd as by fascination? Throw her down!
Cowards!—'tis her own election.

The Brah.
Shall the Brahman—
Shall Indra's hallowed priesthood, be thus slighted,
Thus trifled with, and that too by Serinda,
The fervent worshipper of Indra's gods?
But to thine own devices must I leave thee.

Ser.
Pardon my rashness—pardon! 'Twas attachment
To India's gods so plunged me into error!
I give back Theodora to thy care.

The Brah.
Yes! to her prison-gloom! and hear again!
“Soon as Serinda's with her husband's ashes
Shall mingle, I will offer up to Indra
The Princess Theodora.”