Reminiscences, in Prose and Verse Consisting of the Epistolary Correspondence of Many Distinguished Characters. With Notes and Illustrations. By the Rev. R. Polwhele |
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 | Reminiscences, in Prose and Verse |  |
SCENE II.
An open Balcony.Serinda
alone.
—Swift on the march
Is warlike Saib. From the mourner's cell
Shall I be soon released. But, streaming round,
See sudden torches fire the court below,
And there, to all the heavenly splendour, glitters
Yon orient throne. And hark, the Syrian comes,
Though link'd, how light! Enter Theodora (brought in by the Guards). In prospect from the Portico; on one side an Area, where by torchlight a wild Elephant and fiery Serpents are let out; on the other side, at distance, a Pavilion, glittering with gold and diamonds, rubies and emeralds, to the full moon.
—Hail, Princess!—Hah, the flame
Hurts the soft azure of thine eyes, that melt
In dewy tenderness. Forgive the rigour
That bade thee from thy cool repose, come forth
Into an irksome glare. But, if those lids
That us'd to shame the eyelids of the morn,
It pain thee not, to unclose;—look down and mark
A spectacle, to rivet thy attention
To the sublime of nature! See, fair maid!
Wild from his woods, that Elephant. How nobly
He rears his mighty trunk! His small keen eyes
Dart fire: aye, he discerns thee! Are they glances
Amorous or angry? “I would clasp thee, Virgin!”
Or, (is it possible?) their rude expression
Tells—“I would trample thee!” From that dark corner
There may be some to win thy better love.
Lo, kindling to the flambeaux, they uncoil
Their undulating lengths—how sleek, how smooth!
Is there no charm in their blue scaly burnish?
Dost thou not fancy in their forked tongues
Delicious pleasure—in their bite a sting—
The very sting of rapture? Such be thine!
Unless with Saib, who will soon ascend
The vacant throne, thou join thy willing hand.
Then shall delights, far other, trance thee; then
Shall Genii waft thy spirit into bliss
Celestial. Turn thee round. In soft relief
Yon rich pavilion radiates to the moon.
At distance it appears all pearl. Its steps
Are emeralds, and its pillars massy gold.
Those steps of emerald shalt thou tread—that couch
Shalt press, if Saib—but I've hazarded
A task inconsonant with every feeling;
I sicken at a portrait shaped and coloured
By my own fancies. Reptile!—hence—begone!
( aside
.) Still I would fain, in honour of old Matra—
Of wild Orixa, further Saib's suit.—
But I abhor her gentle smiles—her meekness—
Her sweet angelic looks:—my soul revolts
From Theodora thron'd! Besides, her witchcrafts
Perhaps might draw Prince Saib to the temple
Of Nazareth! Then be the elephant
Her husband, and her paramour the serpent!
(The guards attempt to bear her off. Theodora struggles, wishing to speak. The Queen (turning round).
What! dost thou hover o'er the attractive scene?
Dazzled—
Is warlike Saib. From the mourner's cell
Shall I be soon released. But, streaming round,
See sudden torches fire the court below,
And there, to all the heavenly splendour, glitters
Yon orient throne. And hark, the Syrian comes,
Though link'd, how light! Enter Theodora (brought in by the Guards). In prospect from the Portico; on one side an Area, where by torchlight a wild Elephant and fiery Serpents are let out; on the other side, at distance, a Pavilion, glittering with gold and diamonds, rubies and emeralds, to the full moon.
—Hail, Princess!—Hah, the flame
Hurts the soft azure of thine eyes, that melt
In dewy tenderness. Forgive the rigour
That bade thee from thy cool repose, come forth
Into an irksome glare. But, if those lids
That us'd to shame the eyelids of the morn,
It pain thee not, to unclose;—look down and mark
A spectacle, to rivet thy attention
To the sublime of nature! See, fair maid!
Wild from his woods, that Elephant. How nobly
He rears his mighty trunk! His small keen eyes
Dart fire: aye, he discerns thee! Are they glances
Amorous or angry? “I would clasp thee, Virgin!”
Or, (is it possible?) their rude expression
52
There may be some to win thy better love.
Lo, kindling to the flambeaux, they uncoil
Their undulating lengths—how sleek, how smooth!
Is there no charm in their blue scaly burnish?
Dost thou not fancy in their forked tongues
Delicious pleasure—in their bite a sting—
The very sting of rapture? Such be thine!
Unless with Saib, who will soon ascend
The vacant throne, thou join thy willing hand.
Then shall delights, far other, trance thee; then
Shall Genii waft thy spirit into bliss
Celestial. Turn thee round. In soft relief
Yon rich pavilion radiates to the moon.
At distance it appears all pearl. Its steps
Are emeralds, and its pillars massy gold.
Those steps of emerald shalt thou tread—that couch
Shalt press, if Saib—but I've hazarded
A task inconsonant with every feeling;
I sicken at a portrait shaped and coloured
By my own fancies. Reptile!—hence—begone!
( aside
.) Still I would fain, in honour of old Matra—
Of wild Orixa, further Saib's suit.—
But I abhor her gentle smiles—her meekness—
Her sweet angelic looks:—my soul revolts
From Theodora thron'd! Besides, her witchcrafts
Perhaps might draw Prince Saib to the temple
Of Nazareth! Then be the elephant
Her husband, and her paramour the serpent!
(The guards attempt to bear her off. Theodora struggles, wishing to speak. The Queen (turning round).
What! dost thou hover o'er the attractive scene?
Dazzled—
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,
53
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.”
| Reminiscences, in Prose and Verse | |