University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

An arbour, at the foot of a mountain: the scene representing vallies, and openings between ridges of rocks.—Sheep, at pasture, in prospect; and shepherds, reclin'd at a distance —Arpasia, reading, at the entrance of the arbour.
Soft, distant, music, for some time, as of the shepherds pipes, from the mountains.
Arp.
While, around, in soft caresses,
Nature blesses;
While she the plains, with peace, and plenty, dresses:
Art informs a reader's mind,
To taste, with pleasure,
All this treasure;
Feeling ev'ry joy, design'd.—
But, you, my harmless sheep, in pasture, bleating!
Tho' far more innocent, than we;
Wanting reason, want compleating;
Nor your own enjoyments see.—
And, yet—perhaps, where thought's a stranger,
Pleasure enjoys a sweeter taste!
Man,—who by knowledge, knows his danger:
Fearing the future, while he weighs the past;
Lets all his present blessing ebb, too fast:
And glide unheeded, lest they should not last.

Enter, to her, Zamora, like an Amazon; with a bow and quiver, from a remote opening, behind the rocks.
Zam.
Arpasia! dear lov'd sister of my soul!
While thou sitt'st, reading,
My steps, which ne'er could brook my thought's controul,
Gay, and unheeding,
Have trod the morning dews, in distant vales:
O'er hills, high-pacing,
The wild deer chasing,
Light and unbounded, as the mountain gales.—
Why art thou pensive?—
Warm, and extensive,
My mounting soul, from every pore exhales.—
If there's a world, beyond this rocky bound,
Why are we, here, confin'd, to dwell unknown?
Jewels, conceal'd, can bear no price, till found,
And, what are conscious charms, if never shown?

Duet.
Arp.
Thou, beautiful wanton, be wary.

Zam.
And thou, my dear wise-one, take heed.

Arp.
Who wish for too much will miscarry.

Zam.
But—I wish for no more than I need.

Arp.
At home, we live happy, and quiet.

Zam.
Abroad, we are courted, and gay.

Arp.
There's surfeit, in richness of diet.

Zam.
Ay—but fasting will wear us away.

Enter Hydarnes, from the arbour.
Zam.
Peace, peace, Arpasia:—see!—my father's here:
Freedom's too bold, that toys when wisdom's near.

Hyd.
Zamora, I have heard;—and smil'd:—
Believe Arpasia—she, tho' young, is wise—
Thou art, by passion's heedless warmth, beguil'd;—
Light, and unskill'd the bliss of life to prize,
Thy tottering reason, like a tripping child,
Falls, at each straw, that, in thy passage, lies.
Falsely, alas! thy wishes paint:
Miscalling innocence restraint.
Ah! bar no mortal bliss, beyond redress!
The happy know not happiness.—
Safe, and unliable to wrongs, or snares,
No pains of life can overtake thee, here:
Why art thou longing, then, for absent cares?
And wishing torments near?

Arp.
Light, but not vain—as when the sun-beams play,
And, o'er each object, dart the wav'ring ray;
The bright delusion glows, yet holds no fire,
So, flames Zamora's wish, without desire.

Air.
Zam.
[Laughingly.]
Never never trust—a virgin's tongue,
'Twill ne'er her heart betray.
Ever while you live, fair maids among,
Heed what they do (if you please) you may,
But—give to the winds whate'er they say.

Arp.
Her honest heart, unconscious of designs,
Knowing no ill, no cover needs:
Gay, as her eyes, her artless freedom shines;
Nor feels she half the warmth for which she pleads.

Zam.
I'll sing an idle song, I taught the swains,
To justify my gayety.

Air.
Zam.
The maid that stands mute, like a spy,
And leers, with a downcast eye,
Looks in, upon warm desire:
They'll find it who venture to try her.
But, she whose light joke at random flies,
Throws outward all her fire.

Arp.
Ah!—yet—the happy medium's best:
For they who bless others, deserve to be blest.

Zam.
Give me a mistress (if such to be had)
Gravely glad;
Nor mop'd, nor mad:
Neither too silly, nor wisely imperious;—
Softly gay, and, sweetly, serious.

Both.
—Ah!—such a happy medium's best!

Hyd.
Peace to the chearful heart!—I like it well,
Where wit and judgment, both, together live:
But, when warm wishes with gay fancy dwell,
Alarm'd discernment must not, there, forgive.
I tell thee, levity can never dream,
What waiting woes empale the busy great.
The world's proud idols are not what they seem;
But, slaves, to empty form, and tools of state.
Malice, revenge, fear, avarice, and smart,
Ride, in their pomp, and hover o'er their beds:
Sleep has no rest—their very love is art!
Pain, in their hearts! and tinsel on their heads!
One glowing lustre of embroider'd pride
Mis-colours public life, with vain pretence:
But, cannot, from experienc'd reason, hide,
How far less bless'd, than humble innocence.
Here, in this lovely tract, which nature, round,
With peace, and safety, wall'd—remote from pow'r,
In plains, by bars of rocky mountains, bound,
Sweetly content, enjoy the smiling hour.

Arp.
Else, were our wisdom, great Hydarnes! less,
Than theirs, your humblest swains, whose minds new dress,
Polish'd from rudeness, does their teacher bless,
While, in their native wilderness,
A spring, of arts, and arms, the shepherds feel;
And each new day does some new bliss reveal.

Zam.
One wish, still wanting, to my aid I call;
Till others know me bless'd, scarce bless'd, at all.
Hid from mankind, our joys in darkness lie,
My father's virtues, like our God, the sun,
O'er an enlighten'd world were form'd to fly,
Not a short course, 'twixt desart mountains, run.

Hyd.
How vain alas! our erring wishes are!
Treading on peace, we reach at care!
Shew me the man, who knows not where to see
One, more belov'd, and less oblig'd, than he;
Who feels no pain, suspects no foe,
On his own land whose riches grow;
Whose thoughts, are, like his actions, free,
Who neither envies, frets, nor fears:
Whom learning softens, honour steers:
Whom love attends, and truth endears:
Immortal Powers!—how mad this man must be,
Cou'd he, in courts, expect to see,
A Lord, so nobly great, as he!

[Sound of a trumpet, at distance.
[They start,—and appear surpriz'd.
Zam.
[Joyfully.]
Ah!—what inspiring call invites my ear!

Arp.
[Terrified.]
Grant, Heaven! no unexpected danger near!

Hyd.
The brave, and the prepar'd, admit no fear.
Yet, till this moment, breath'd no trumpet, here,
To break soft quiet, in these happy shades,
By notes, alarming, warlike, and severe!
[Trumpet again.
Hark! it each cavern of our hills invades.

Enter from the openings, between the rocks, on the right, a great number of shepherds, in different parties, with signs of surprize, and apprehension.
Hyd.
See!—down the winding of yon hill, descends
A warrior, plum'd, and arm'd! of princely air!
He comes, in haste, alone—and this way bends.

Enter from a rock, on the left, Daraxes—The shepherds interpose between the stranger and Hydarnes.
Zam.
Stand—or, advancing, to thy ruin, dare.

[Advancing, with her bow; and an arrow presented.
Hyd.
Brave! and, beyond her sex, aspiring still!—
Hold, my Zamora—shepherds, give me way.

Dar.
[To Zamora.]
[Dar. laying down his sword also.
Air.

Hyd.
Whence, stranger, has your trumpet passage found,
To fright the silent Genius of our groves?

Dar.
Pursu'd, alas! I fly the hostile sound;
That, not my fear, but apprehension, moves.
Lord of a province, never Persia's claim,
(Our rapid Indus rolls his waves between:)
For wish'd revenge of wrongs, in arms, I came,
Mov'd by no pride of pow'r, or hateful spleen.
Two happy battles gave my sword success;
A third involv'd my fortune in distress.
My followers lost, I fled a light-arm'd throng
Of Persians, whom their Monarch wings along.
Hystaspes! (not more brave) more bless'd, than I,
Now, triumphs—and, 'tis mine, to 'scape, or die.
Hid, in these hills' impervious shades, my life,
Imploring pity, you have pow'r to save.

Zam.
Hope—for my father is no friend to strife;
But loves the wretched, and protects the brave.

Arp.
Hydarnes cannot wrong the faith you bring;
More than Hystaspes here—tho' not a King.

Hyd.
If the revenge which thou hast lost, was just,
The Gods can give it back—Be bold, and trust.
Led, by some hand divine, thou found'st the way;
Where never wand'ring foot, before, cou'd stray.
Myself, of Indian blood, be safe, with me:
Behind these hills, a region I command,
Guarded, by passes, from invasion free,
And proof, against whole Persia's warlike hand.
Some to those hills, down which the stranger came,
Climb; and inform me, when the danger's near.
Stay, you ,—Arpasia, and my daughter, claim
Your presence—Stay, and wait their orders, here.
Expect me swiftly back—I go but hence
To arm, and animate our due defence .

Air.
Dar.
Aid me, reason! aid me, art!
In war, pursued, in love pursuing?
What a folly guides my heart!
Can desire arise from ruin?
Can I feel a lover's smart?
Teach, lovely sisters! teach my willing tongue,
By what sweet name your virtues shou'd be sung?

Zam.
Sisters, by choice we are, but not by name:
Friendship, that nobler tye,
Joins our two kindred souls, in one soft flame;
Lights up affection, both in heart, and eye:
And bids it never die.
Come, my Arpasia, to the pass—'tis near:
Danger, perhaps, may overtake us, here.

Arp.
Methinks, we have not yet, such cause for fear,
Danger, so distant, and our friends so nigh.

Air.
Zam.
When a maid, who was fearful, alone,
Grows bold, if her hero is by;
Other maids are politely shown,
That she wants not their company:
Good b'wye, my dear sister, good b'wye,
You want not my company,

[Exit Zamora, laughing.
Arp.
Stranger—permit me to conduct you, on:
Zamora's livelier steps have led the way.

Dar.
I grieve the Lady's haste, untimely gone:
But cou'd, myself, methinks, for ever—stay.

Arp.
Why wou'd you stay?—The foe may soon, descend.

Dar.
All foes are lost, in so divine a friend.
Wou'd I had never seen you! for,(before)
I hop'd—but, now,—can ne'er be happy more.

Arp.
Whence this unjust despair?

Dar.
From love, and you:—
A stranger, whom unhappy stars pursue,
Dares not aspire—

Arp.
The brave for ever, dare;
Virtue shou'd suffer all things—but despair.
Unhappy merit claims deserv'd redress.

Dar.
The woes you pity, cease to be distress.
Un-envy'd, let Hystaspes, now, pursue:
'Tis more than conquest, to be sav'd by you.

Duet.
Dar.
Wou'd my gentle charmer hear me,
I cou'd talk my life away:

Arp.
Did my modest heart but clear me,
I wou'd ask—What is't you'd say!

Dar.
Think, how sweetly form'd you are.

Arp.
That's a thought, below my care.

Dar.
Think, I adore—

Arp.
I'll hear no more—

Dar.
One moment stay—

Arp.
I must away—

Dar.
I have a thousand things to say.

Arp.
Come, and, within, repeat 'em o'er.

[Exeunt.