 | The Fatal Vision : Or, The Fall of Siam |  |
1
ACT I.
SCENE, A Palace in the City Sofala, in Siam.Enter, at several Doors, Sizangar and Arbanes.
Sizang.
What! hoa! Arbanes!
Arban.
Brave Sizangar, hail!
Sizang.
Canst thou inform me of the Fav'rite Eunuch?
Arban.
Mean you Lord Selim?
Sizang.
He.
Arban.
Yonder he comes,
Full of glad News, and seeks the Emperor's Presence.
[Exit Arbanes.
Sizang.
This Eunuch Statesman, with his Woman Face,
Has more than manly Strength of Mind in Council:
As if, throughout that shrill, that unmann'd Race,
Wrong'd Nature, conscious of th'unlov'd Defect,
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To pay the Mind back, what the Body lost.
Oft have I wonder'd, and 'tis strange to see!
When, 'midst a learned Throng of list'ning Senators,
This Whey-fac'd Orator displays his Eloquence,
While Reason dances to his treble Pipe,
How Sense, acknowledg'd, gives the Lye to Sound,
And blushing Manhood feels diminish'd Pride!
A happy Fortune wait upon your Wishes,
Most noble Selim! Pilot of our State!
Enter Selim, with a Letter.
Selim.
Thanks, valiant Leader: Wou'd you ought with me?
Sizang.
I would, if Time permits, unfold at large
A Secret worth your Notice.
Selim.
'Twould be well
You chose some fitter Hour; for, now, I go,
A glad Partaker of the Publick Joy,
To hail our Royal Master.
Sizang.
May the Gods
Thus ever bless him!
[Exit Sizangar.
Selim.
May your Wish prove happy!
As Selim passes inward, through an Arch of the Palace, he meets the Emperor, attended by his Officers and Guards. He kneels, and delivers the Letter, which the Emperor, having seated himself on a Throne, seems to peruse with Pleasure, and then speaks.
Uncham.
Bless'd be the Gods of China! Siam's Tow'rs
Have fail'd, at last, their haughty Keeper's Hopes!
Their proud Orontes now shall boast no more
A Fame unstain'd: Yon beamy God, the Sun,
Still, as he rolls his firy Wheels round Heaven,
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Speak, Eunuch, Does he not?
Selim.
For your great Sake,
He warms your China's Plains with partial Favour;
Did the wide Universe, united, bow
Before Our Monarch's Throne, Our God wou'd shine
With equal Benefit on all Mankind:
The sandy Wilds of scorch'd Bornæo's Shore
Wou'd rise to flow'ry Banks; and Bow'rs of Bliss!
The Icy Poles wou'd melt in Seas of Joy!
Cathaia's frozen Cliffs depose their Snow,
And sink to Surfaces of new-born Beauty!
Uncham.
Selim! I would not die. Methinks, 'tis poor,
And sets me on a Level with my Slaves,
To know, that Death has wider Pow'r than I.
When Siam, Zeilon, and the rich Japan,
The proud Mogol, the distant Abyssine,
Who rules the sooty Æthiop; when these kneel
And call Me Lord; when Africk trembles at me,
And the wide Tract of tawny Tartary,
And boasting Europe, fam'd for Arts and Arms,
Shall fall before me; Then! in this wish'd Point!
Death to this Thought of Death—It stings my Soul.
Selim.
When Princes, full of Years, and Glories, die,
They not lose Being, but begin to Be;
For those we now call Gods, were Men, like You;
But dyed to Live, as you, now, live to Dye.
Uncham.
Imaginary Godship suits not me!
Selim, thy Skill in worldly Policy,
Has better recommended thee in China,
Than these Japonian Lectures of Futurity.
Give Me to taste This Life; and, for Hereafter,
I leave it to the Gods, who know it best.
A Flourish of Trumpets.
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Uncham.
Welcome, brave Sons, your hoary Father's Pride!
Come to my Breast, Omalco, Eldest born,
Thus let me thank thee! Next, my Zarodin,
Last born, but equal in our Love, come Thou!
But say, begin; and charm our ready Ear
With full Description of your purchas'd Glory.
I sent you to compleat the Overthrow
Of Siam's Pride; say, How succeeded you?
Zarod.
Scarce had we reach'd old Sagra's fruitful Plain,
When certain Horse-men, sent to view the Foe,
Return'd with News, that their collected Pow'r,
Urg'd by the untam'd Spirit of Orontes,
Quitted their Fastnesses, on Ava's Hills,
And mov'd to meet us: Sir! the Men we led
Then, first, felt Fear; and shiver'd as they march'd.
Uncham.
Ha! shiver'd! Did they fear a beaten Foe?
Omal.
They had not, Sir, forgot that dreadful Day,
When, by your Royal Hand, the Monarch fell;
And his fair Daughter first became your Captive!
When Slaughter, blushing at her wastful Labour,
Sunk, shame-fac'd, down, beneath the Sea she shed,
While Thirogamba's Bank stood drown'd in Blood!
They bade each other call to mind, that Day,
The Wounds receiv'd, and giv'n, by this Orontes;
How, through our wond'ring Ranks, he hurl'd his Rage,
And drove swift Death before him!
Uncham.
This I know;
And how lewd Victory, ravish'd from my Hand,
Stood Neuter, to indulge a Boy's Resentment,
And saw him, four long Months, defy my Arms!
But I expect what is; not what has been!
Zarod.
Drawn near, and stretch'd in terrible Array,
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Assaulted Heav'n flew upward, from the sound,
The Mountains trembled; and the wounded Plain
Groan'd horribly, beneath our weight of War!
Omal.
High Noon shone o'er us, and the full-grown Day
Glow'd, with religious Awe, beneath her God;
Whose busy Rays acted a Herald's Part,
And flash'd return'd Defiance from our Swords,
Which, drawn by thousands, glitter'd in his Beams.
While the soul-quick'ning sound of Drums and Trumpets,
The waving Banners, and the nodding Plumes,
The Neigh of Horses, and the Clang of Arms,
Usher'd the Battle on, in dreadful State!
Furious, like warring Winds, we rush'd together,
And met, with deadly Shocks on either side;
The pompous Beauties of the marching War,
Were lost in the Encounter: mingling Deaths
Effac'd the flow'ry Sweetness of the Plain!
And the hack'd Edges of our clashing Swords,
Beneath an Arch of Fire, that sparkled from them,
Snatch'd high from one grim Wound, to ward another,
Rain'd show'rs of Blood around, on Horse and Man,
'Till Life became disguis'd with all Death's Horrors!
Selim.
This was, indeed, a Battel!
Uncham.
Worthy Me!
Zarod.
Oft have I trod the Crimson Paths of War,
But never found the Road so rough before;
Long toil'd we on, against a Tide of Blood;
When now Orontes, high amidst his Train,
Alike distinguish'd by his Arms and Courage,
Cry'd to his dreadful Squadrons, to remember
They had a Royal Mistress to redeem,
And ow'd Revenge for her Great Father's Fall;
That they, now, fought, not for their Country's Honour,
But for its bleeding Liberty; which, lost,
Their poor defenceless Children lay, expos'd
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Then, rushing forward, with destructive Force,
He threw himself amidst our thickest Ranks,
And acted Horrors, which, alike, amaz'd
And frighted the Chinæan Infantry,
Who pierc'd, look'd round, and shook, and fled before him.
Uncham.
What Pity, that this Man was born in Siam!
Omal.
At last he came, where a white Elephant,
Mad with unnumber'd Wounds, had thrown his Ruler,
In wild, unguided Fury, lash'd the Ground;
And mow'd, with his huge Trunk, the throng'd Array:
With bloody, broken Tusks, ran grimly on,
And push'd promiscuous Crowds, of Friend, and Foe.
Orontes, as he brush'd the boist'rous Beast,
Rose in his Seat; and, lifting high his Arm,
Buried a Jav'lin in his monstrous Side:
The smarting Elephant, revengeful, roar'd,
And, as the Warrior's Horse, stop'd by the Turn
Of rallying Troops, fid'ling, obey'd the Spur,
Gor'd him retreating; the disdainful Steed
Snorted, plung'd forward, threw his Heels aloft,
Shook fierce his bloody Reins, and snuff'd the Wind;
Impatient, beat the Ground, and foaming wild,
Rose in erected Rage, and paw'd the Air!
'Till tumbling backward, on his Rider's Breast,
Foil'd, and encumber'd, by th'unwieldy weight,
And, overborn by Numbers, we disarm'd him.
Zarod.
O'ercoming him was all: The Troops of Siam,
Lost by their Leader's Loss, on all sides fled.
Uncham.
Great, by my Throne! I long methinks, to see
How he becomes Captivity.
Omal.
His Soul
Unbow'd, beneath his mighty Load of Woe,
Looks down serenely on his Conqu'ror's Triumph!
A Flourish of Trumpets.
7
Those Trumpets speak him here.
Uncham.
Give him Admission.
[Exit Arbanes.
Uncham reseats himself on the Throne.
Enter Sizangar.
Sizang.
Hail to our Glorious Monarch, and his Fortune!
Ipanthe, struggling with a storm of Grief,
For her own Ruin, in her Gen'ral's Fate,
Presses to be admitted.
Uncham.
Let her come.
Enter Ipanthe, in Mourning.
Omal.
(Aside)
How lovely looks her Sorrow!
Zarad.
(Aside)
Killing Grief!
Omal.
Behold your Captive, Sir, the Great Orontes.
Enter, on the other side, Orontes guarded; he expresses Surprize and Grief, at the fight of Ipanthe; and, neglecting the Emperor, comes forward, and kneels to her; who raises him, weeping. After some Pause, the Emperor speaks.
Uncham.
Are we neglected? Or does this dumb Scene
Rise from the strong Oppression of their Grief?
Selim.
'Tis deep Condolement of their mutual Loss!
Oront.
Well did those Bramins judge, who taught Man first,
The use of Passive Valour! Yet, how low,
How poor a Thing is Life, depriv'd of Pow'r
To act, as well as suffer! wretched he!
Who, seeing others wretched, cannot cure
The Ills he pities! O! Divine Ipanthe!
Do not reproach me with those killing Tears,
They gall Remembrance with your Father's Death,
Your ravish'd Sceptre, and your lost Condition,
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Why shou'd such Virtue doubt the Gods Assistance?
Thou art so like Themselves, they needs must love thee!
Oft, when the Strength of Humane Courage fails us,
Lost in the Mazes of perplexing Woe,
Some unseen Power holds out a Friendly Clue!
O! cease to weep—Words have their Weight to wound us,
But 'tis not in the Pow'r of Man, to bear
The silent Eloquence of Female Sorrow!
Ipant.
Where Hope can lean, tho' ne'er so weakly prop'd,
'Twere poor to let it sink: But I, expos'd,
A helpless Orphan, and in shameful Chains,
What Hope shou'd I presume to cherish here?
When my Great Father liv'd, I hop'd indeed,
Nor did I quite despair, while you were free;
But All's now lost! Ev'n Siam is no more!
Yet I reproach you not: What Man cou'd do,
You, nobly, did; and, till Orontes fell,
His Country stood: That Truth my Justice owes you.
Oront.
I fell indeed! fell horribly! O'erwhelm'd
Amidst the Ruins of my sinking Country!
Sure, there are Powers above, who guard the Just!
I had not wonder'd, if my failing Sword
Had fought the Cause of Pride; or vain Ambition:
But I submit—The Gods are Absolute!
Uncham.
(to Oront.)
My Soul, unapt to prize an Enemy,
Won by the manly Magic of thy Virtue,
Confesses thou art brave! And thou, Ipanthe,
Fair, and of Form engaging: Siam, now,
Is mine, and I bestow it, at my Will;
What say you then, if, by an Act of Grace,
Which, tho' your present Fortune cou'd not hope,
Your Virtue merits, from a Conqu'ror's Mercy,
I re-instate you, and restore your Country?
Omal.
Hear, and confess, that China's mighty Chief,
Unmov'd by wild Ambition, makes not War
To widen Pow'r, but find more Room for Mercy.
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Who, after this, will dread the Growth of Crowns?
Oront.
The unchear'd Natives of the frozen North,
Whose wand ring Vessels seek our Shores for Gain;
Far from the Sun, and dark in their Ideas
Of Heav'n's distinguish'd Plan of Sov'reign Rule,
Dread Growth of Crowns; because, in those chill'd Climes,
Power, rip'ning slowly into Excellence,
Degen'rates to Oppression, starv'd in Soil,
And nipp'd by the cold Winds of clam'rous Faction.
But in our Eastern Garden, where the Plant
Of Genuine Majesty permits no Weeds,
When needless Thirst of Rule drives Princes on,
The Star of Power, grown dreadful, shines no more,
But, Comet-like, glares red, with bloody Beams!
If, Royal Enemy! this hapless War
Rose, only from mistaken Sense of Wrongs,
And you, content with dire Revenge, decline
Poorly to keep what is not rightly yours,
Then 'twas but Passion's Sally, not your Crime;
Then, not rememb'ring you, as Siam's Foe,
I will look up to the Chinæan Throne,
And say, it merits to stand firm for ever.
Ipant.
Unhoping Favours from that cruel Hand,
I came, to tell you, Life was grown a Burthen:
To urge, accuse, and sting you, with Reproaches,
'Till your rais'd Rage had giv'n the Death I sought:
But your Repentance has transform'd my Purpose,
This timely, new-assum'd, Humanity,
May make me half forget, who kill'd my Father!
Uncham.
Your Father ow'd his Death to Chance: Just so
Might I have fall'n by him; but give that Thought,
To the dark Winds, which blow Remembrance blind:
Now, to the Cause, thro' which your Fortune smiles!
If I mistake not, for 'tis long, indeed,
Since I was young, and skill'd in Love's soft Art,
My Sons, Ipanthe, wear their Captive's Fetters!
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Ev'n now, you see, their conscious Blushes own it;
Why—Be it so—Take him you best esteem,
And he shall share, with you, your Father's Throne;
So, may your Kingdom flourish, once again,
And Love's soft Balm shall heal the Wounds of War.
Selim.
(Aside.)
Unlook'd for Proposition!
Omal.
(Aside.)
Happy Day!
Zarod.
(Aside.)
Inspire her, Love!
Oront.
(to Ipant.)
But, that it were Presumption
To interrupt your awful Eloquence,
By joint Surprize, and Indignation, fir'd,
I cou'd grow fond of Noise, and seek Revenge
From fruitless Words, like Woe-bewailing Woman!
But Thunder's Voice shou'd roar in such a Cause,
No mortal force of Sound can tune the Rage,
Which ought to agitate affronted Virtue!
But soft—I'm calm: Contempt is best reveng'd
By Scorn: And, bearing well, we punish most.
Uncham.
(rising.)
Ha! has the Offer made the Honour cheap?
Thus, do you thank—?
Selim.
Indulge the Voice of Grief:
Perhaps, the Captive Gen'ral loves Ipanthe.
Oront.
Who does not love Ipanthe? Love her? Yes!
Why live I, but to love her?— (to Ipant.)
Pardon me,
I wou'd have said to serve her. (to Uncham)
Proud Success
Has dazled Reason: Else you wou'd have seen,
Tho Chance has made her lovely Person yours,
Her Mind, unconquer'd, triumphs o'er Captivity:
And scorns to barter honourable Chains
For Shame, and Liberty.
Uncham.
They call me Rash!
Witness, thou all-discerning Eye of Heav'n,
And, once, confess me Patient!
Omal.
Blest Orontes!
It seems, the grateful, the indulgent Princess,
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Has judg'd a Soldier's Breast a safe Retreat,
And, kindly, leaves her Love at your Disposal.
Oront.
(Aside.)
How has unwary Jealousy expos'd
A Secret, dang'rous to my Hopes, and me!
Ipant.
(to Oront.)
Has, then, my Loss of Freedom so reduc'd me,
That ev'n Orontes treats me like a Slave!
When, Sir, did I invest you with a Right,
To dictate to me, and direct my Love?
To the Emperor.]
At you, whose Chains I wear, I wonder not:
You do but exercise a Master's Power:
But know, I had a Father once; who taught me,
That a low Fortune only breaks low Minds;
No Change of Circumstance can change Ipanthe:
Yes! my mov'd Soul can rise against Oppression,
And still grow stronger, as my Wrongs encrease.
And, is it thus, you wou'd restore my Kingdom?
Shall it be said, that, eager for a Crown,
I, monstrously enjoy'd it, with the Son
Of him, who dispossess'd my murder'd Father?
What! warm his widow'd Throne with impious Love!
How dar'd you harbour Thoughts like this, of me,
Whose Veins the Royal Blood of Siam fills?
Where shall I hide my Face, in dark Retreat,
Forgotten, and Forgetting? O' vile View!
A Prison, after this, can give no Pain.
[Exit Ipanthe, follow'd by Omalco and Zarodin.
Uncham.
'Tis well! This Insolence, at once, reproves,
And punishes, my Sin of Lenity.
'Tis not for Kings to pity: I renounce
Tame Mercy, for it blunts the Edge of Majesty!
Selim—Attend me. I shall find a way
To break this stubborn Fierceness. You, Sizangar.
See him confin'd in the Sofalian Tow'r,
And guarded strictly.
[Exeunt Emperor, Selim, and Guards.
12
How weak, alas, is the Restraint of Guards
Upon a Man, who scorns to live Unfree!
Why? if 'twere fair to ask! why did the Powers,
Who govern Love, and War, forsake my Cause?
Unbroke to Insults, conscious of no Crime,
Deserving Ills like these, how has Fate reach'd me?
Are the Gods partial? No:—Or, were they partial;
Impious Complaints wou'd but provoke them more!
But why wrong I the Gods? They act no Ill;
We owe them all Things: There's such odds between us,
That, crush'd with Woe, Man cannot bear, from Heav'n,
What Heav'n, accus'd uujustly, bears from Man.
What, then, in this Extreme, remains to do?
Look inward, Soul! Ay! There I find a Cure
For all these Evils: There's a strength in Virtue,
Which bids the Vanquish'd triumph. These weak Chains
Want Pow'r to bind me: Fetter'd as I am,
The Tyrant, whose Ambition put them on,
Is more a Slave. The Man, who conquers me,
Must bind my Soul: Orontes, else, is free!
[Exit guarded.
The End of the First Act.
| The Fatal Vision : Or, The Fall of Siam | |