University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Zanger, Achmet.
Achmet.
The hour grows more tempestuous.

Zanger.
Not a star
Remains unquench'd; but total blackness fills
The vault of night.

Achmet.
Look, from the turbid south
What floods of flame in red diffusion burst,
Frequent and furious, darted thro' the dark
And broken ridges of a thousand clouds,
Pil'd hill on hill: and hark, the thunder rous'd
Groans in long roarings thro' the distant gloom.

Zanger.
'Tis well: and we, O heaven! revere thy voice,
Thy voice of terror, meant to shake the hearts
Of guilty men. What withers their resolves,
Lends force to ours. Achmet, if honor lives
Within thy breast; if this tremendous call
Can wake thee to a deed of noble daring,
Now save thy master.

Achmet.
Prince, command my service.
Be life or death the sequel, I have learnt,
When honor calls, undoubting to obey.
This worthy part is ours: th' event we leave
To heaven's all-ruling care.

Zanger.
I need not say,
In saving Mustapha, we save the friend
Of virtue, of mankind. But how? alas!
For I have sounded all a mother's heart,
Each source of tenderness profess'd for me,
In favor of this brother—and in vain!
The Sultan too, inexorable, deaf
Even to Emira's voice! has seal'd his doom.
Amid the silence of the midnight hour,
A shameful death awaits him!

Achmet.
Judge supreme!
Is such the lot for innocence decreed?
What can we do?

Zanger.
Brave Achmet, true, the camp
Lies plung'd in slumber: but the troops adore
This injur'd virtue. Rouse the nearest bands:
Then, on a signal given, rush we at once
Into the guilty room; and bear him thence
Among th' expecting soldiers.

Achmet.
By the storm
That thunders round us with redoubling peals!
The brave design has fir'd me: I will save,
Or perish greatly with him. Knows the Prince
Of our intention?

Zanger.
No; nor were it safe
To trust his scrupulous virtue with the secret.
Above all fear of death, he would not risque
A life this way, to make his own immortal.
Then give we honor strict as his no cause
To disavow our action; let no blood,
Even of his executioners, be spilt.

Achmet.
We will not stain an enterprize of justice
With deeds of cruelty. That care be mine.
What shall the signal be?

Zanger.
A blazing torch
Wav'd thrice amid the trees that shade this tent.
My watch is there.

Achmet.
Enough.

Zanger.
Farewel.

Achmet.
Yet say,
Where do we meet?

Zanger.
Behind the blasted pine
That bounds the last pavilion.

Achmet.
Prince, remember.
My service shall not linger: if I fall,
'Tis as a soldier should.

Zanger.
Away—the Vizir
Is coming towards us.

SCENE II.

Roxolana, Mufti, Rustan.
Roxolana.
Mufti, what a night
Is roaring o'er us! My frail woman's heart
Quakes at the loudning horror of the storm?
What mean the angry skies?

Mufti.
I have observ'd,
When the soul labors with some mighty purpose
That dread and danger usher into birth,
Fancy alarm'd sees in each accident
A heaven-sent omen; of her own vain fears
Shapes fiends or ghosts; embodies empty space,
Pours terror on th' unreal form: then shrinks
Appall'd and trembling from her own creation.
Why, this tempestuous time respects not us;
Or it befriends our purpose.

Rustan.
True, great Princess.
The soldiers all are hush'd: the camp is now
Still as the midnight desart. Even the factious,
Whose prying curiosity had else
Been buzzing round us, tremble in their tents,
Awe-struck; nor dare assemble while the heavens
Are blazing round their heads.

Mufti.
Madam, see here—
And give full scope to joy—behold the scroll
That numbers Mustapha among the dead!

Roxolana.
Yet, Mufti, was it hardly gain'd. The combat
'Twixt love and vengeance in his father's breast,
Like agonizing nature ere it yields
To death's last dart, held strong and terrible.

Mufti.
Nor had the son's accumulated crimes
Met their due punishment, but for your skill,
Your known ascendant o'er the Sultan's heart,
All-open to your influence.—Take it, Vizir,
Th' important schedule; and see justice done
On this our enemy.

Rustan.
O I could give
A loose to rapture!—But the time forbids.
When must he die?

Mufti.
Destruction hovers o'er him,
These moments are his last. So wills the Sultan:
And has shut up his tent from all access,
Till this be done.

Roxolana.
Now, now indeed I live!
Now am I blest! O friends, you both shall task
Henceforth my dearest interest in your service.
Fly, Rustan, plant strong watch at every gate,
At every avenue: let none go forth,
None enter, till the morning shines abroad.

Rustan.
All is prepar'd. The slaves are ready arm'd,
A numerous band: and I will post them strait
With watchful secresy.—Now, Mustapha,
Thy boasted victories, the courted love
Of giddy multitudes that hail'd, this morn,
Thy short-liv'd triumph—what avail they now?
That pageant show will but embitter thought,
But aid thy foes to torture thee in death.
Come, Mufti: to our task.

SCENE III.

Roxolana.
I am alone!
My bosom pants with ardent expectation,
And dreadful hope! O wou'd this hour were past!
The solitary horror of my thoughts
Dismays me—Who goes there?—His wife!—I would not
Now hear her fond complainings.

SCENE IV.

Emira, Roxolana.
Emira.
Fly not, Madam:
For misery has sure a mournful right
To pity, even to reverence. If your soul
Is truly royal, and adorns the height
Of your imperial fortune, you will weep
The woes you have not known. If mercy lives,
If gentleness yet holds her softest seat,
Where once she joy'd to dwell, a woman's breast;—
O Roxolana—by these melting eyes!
By this imploring posture! now exert
Your thousand ways of charming him you love!
Wake nature, reason, in his heart; to save
A hero who supports his throne, a son
Who fears no death but from a father's frown.
Think, for this noble act, how fair your name,
How bright with praise, to nations yet unborn
All-lovely will descend!—You hear me not.
Ah, Madam, this way bend your sight: in me
No common suppliant kneels. I once believ'd—
O groundless pride!—that but to heaven alone
I could have bow'd me thus!

Roxolana.
My wonder, Princess,
Has kept me silent: let it plead my pardon
That you have knelt so long. Nay, dry your tears:
My self will send the Prince to your embrace,
And end for ever all your doubts and fears.

SCENE V,

Emira.
What insolence of cruelty, what cold,
Unfeeling pride sate mocking in her eye!
O man! what savage bears a heart like thine,
Till thy own ills have taught thee social sense!
And soften'd thee to goodness!—Mustapha!

SCENE VI.

Emira, Mustapha.
Mustapha.
Am I so blest once more to see thy face?
Once more to press thee in my faithful arms?
O transport even in death!

Emira.
Death! guard me, Love;
Defend me, heaven, from that distracting thought!
O most inhuman Queen!—What! lose thee then?
Thus lose thee—in thy flowering spring of life?
With all thy honors green and fragrant on thee?

Mustapha.
If I have right employ'd this scanty span,
'Tis life's full measure: honor is old age.
Were I not torn from thee, from thy lov'd bosom
To die is to be happy. Gracious heaven
In mercy to mankind has made life short;
Else wrongs and sufferings, our sure portion here,
Would be supportless load!

Emira.
O heaven and earth!
Shall ruffians, mercenary slaves, enur'd
To murders, recent from the basest crimes,
Attempt thy sacred life?

Mustapha.
The cause alone
For which we suffer makes death terrible.
What can he more, with all his terrors arm'd,
When we oppose fair virtue to his blow,
But first enlarge the soul to liberty?
And then to bliss immortal? I will meet him,
This foe of nature, with the same calm brow
I oft have seen and sought him thro' the ranks
Of raging war—To spare a father's crime,
Would I had found him there!

Emira.
Are then my hopes
All fled for ever?—Have I liv'd to this?
O Mustapha—yet let me share thy fate:
Yes, perish with thee. From thy firmer heart
My weakness will draw strength, and meet the doom,
That must involve us both, serene and fearless.

Mustapha.
Thou angel-virtue! this is death's sharp pang,
This tenderness that pains me into agony.
Thy lover and thy husband who should shield,
Should cover thee from every fear, alas!
Is trembling with thy softness!

Emira.
My lov'd Lord!
Soul of my wishes! glory of my thoughts!
Your father—has he then renounc'd that name?
Cast from his heart humanity and honor?
Can it be possible?—Yet let me fly,
Assault him, pierce him with my tears, and wake
The god within his breast!

Mustapha.
My gentle love,
It will not be. The secret of our nuptials
Untimely told, betray'd I know not how,
Has fix'd my doom irrevocable.

Emira.
Oh!—
My Lord! my life!

Mustapha.
Why dost thou tremble? why
With this convulsive ardor grasp my hand?

Emira.
Ah Mustapha—

Mustapha.
What woulst thou say? My hour
Is hasting forward.

Emira.
Wouldst thou know—O horror!
The cruel, killing foe, the deadly tongue
That has undone thee?

Mustapha.
So may heaven receive
My parting soul, as anger and revenge,
As every passion is extinguish'd here—
All but my love for thee.

Emira.
O grief of heart—
When injur'd virtue not upbraids our crime,
But pities, but forgives; the bitter pang
Our soul then feels is every death in one!
Strike here, my Lord.

Mustapha.
Ha! what? My senses all
Recoil to hear thee talk thus.

Emira.
Yet shew mercy:
If you not loath me, strike. 'Twas I, alas!
'Twas curst Emira's tongue proclaim'd thy secret.

Mustapha.
Thou dearest! thou unequal'd tenderness!
Now am I most prepar'd to lay down life.
My heart—I blush to think it could be base—
Was listning to suspicions of some friend,
Whose falseness had undone us. Thou hast sav'd me
From dying with that guilt upon my soul.

Emira.
Thy friends are innocent. Even Solyman,
Even fatal Roxolana, both were friends
To me—Emira was thy only foe.

Mustapha.
Thy words distract me. I shall die a coward,
Forgetful of my name, unworthy thee.
It was the sweet excess of tenderest love,
Led thee to plead a daughter's sacred claim
In Solyman: and sure if aught on earth,
If human influence could have found his heart,
Thy tears, thy truth, thy charms, must have prevail'd.

Emira.
O spare me, Mustapha. Each piercing accent
Is a keen sword, and stabs into my heart.
Were I to live after this dear forgiveness,
What were it but to hear, each lingring hour,
Th' upbraiding voice of honor, virtue, duty,
Condemning, lashing my distracted soul
With their severest scorpions. No, Emira,
No farther thought of life—

Mustapha.
Yes, you must live;
Or see me die, the last of human race:
O if my fair renown thro' life preserv'd,
And meant a brave example now in death,
Be dear to my Emira; she will live
To plead my virtue's cause before a father:
And reconcile him to a son's just fame,
Who living honor'd, and who dying blest him.

Emira.
What says my Lord? For all the promis'd joys
Of paradise, I would not see his face:
Nor will I part from thee.

Mustapha.
My hour is come!
I heard th' inexorable Angel call!
His potent voice sounds awful in mine ear!
Emira!—Oh—farewel!

Emira.
Ha! who are these?

Mustapha.
The ministers of fate.

[Osman and Mutes enter.
Emira.
Ye blessed powers!
Save, shield me from their sight!

Mustapha.
Alas—she faints!
O Zanger! O my friend! where now is he?
Whose hand should comfort and support my love?
Look on her, heaven: I leave her in thy care.
[The Mutes make signs for him to retire.
I come, my friends. A few tears will have way
At this eternal parting—Dear Emira!
Osman, look here—and let my father know
What thou hast seen!—One kiss—Her cheek is cold—
One more—O bitter sweet!—And now the pangs
Of death are past.

[Emira is carried off.
Osman.
My heart weeps blood
At this sad sight!

SCENE VII.

Solyman, Osman.
Solyman.
Protect me, heaven!

Osman.
My Lord?

Solyman.
Osman, it vanish'd here!

Osman.
My gracious sovereign,
What moves you thus? What do your eyes pursue
With such transported gaze?

Solyman.
If parted souls
Can leave the midnight caverns dark and damp,
Where sleeps their mouldering dust, to walk on earth;
This very now, the spectre of a man—
It bore the semblance of my buried father—
Stalk'd pale and terrible athwart my sight!
And glar'd a look of anger as it pass'd!

Osman.
Can this be possible?

Solyman.
I saw it plain.
In my lone tent, deaf murmurs struck mine ear,
From airy voices whispering thro' the gloom.
I listen'd: when at once a wave of flame
Burst, dimly flashing round me, and disclos'd
The hideous vision—Look, it bends this way—
Behold it, Osman!

Osman.
'Tis illusion all.

Solyman.
O night of horrors!—Mustapha! thy fate,
Thy pangs are yet less terrible than mine!
Osman, I am most wretched—

Osman.
Hark! my Lord,
What shouts! what furious outcries!

SCENE VIII.

Solyman, Osman, Rustan.
Solyman.
Rustan! ha—
Bleeding and pale!

Rustan.
Prince Zanger—

Solyman.
What of him?

Rustan.
To save his brother—But my strength forsakes me—
I die—

Solyman.
Confusion!—raise him up—say on.

Rustan.
To save his brother, rous'd the sleeping camp—
I threw my self, with all your gather'd slaves,
To bar their passage—

Solyman.
Is my son escap'd?

Rustan.
I faint—my heart pants thick—Too late I see
Th' avenging hand of heaven!—too late I find,
All wickedness is misery!—But yet,
I will not die with unrepented guilt
Upon my parting spirit—Mustapha—
Prophet! forgive me—was most innocent:
And Roxolana—

Solyman.
Slave!—thou dy'st too soon:
And hast escap'd my justice—Roxolana—
Thou wouldst have said—is false as hell, or thee!

SCENE IX.

Back Scene opening discovers the mutes and soldiers in attitudes of grief round the body of Mustapha. They bring it forward.
Zanger,
entering.
Alas! my brother—dead!—Look here, just heaven!
I could not save—but I can perish with thee.

[stabs himself.
Solyman.
What hast thou done?—Wert thou too leagu'd against me?
Yet live: my heart forgives, and bids thee live.

Zanger.
Not universal rule should bribe me now
Longer to breathe this tainted air—My Lord—
By those soft tears of pity and remorse
You shed o'er this sad scene—Support me, friends—
To dying friendship grant this last request—
Beneath one marble let us rest together:
In the same social tomb our human part
Sleep safe and undisturb'd—Now, Mustapha—
Now, I am thine—for ever!

Solyman.
O my sons!
Did ever age produce such god-like worth?
Such matchless friendship?—Ah—what then am I—
Their murderer!—Hide, hide me from that thought.
O let me plunge into profoundest night!
Let her broad wing with ever-during shade
Involve my memory! lest fame should tell,
Should publish to remotest time—I clos'd
A life of glory—thus!

SCENE X.

To them Roxolana.
Ah—Zanger!

Solyman.
Look!
See, sorceress—woman, see—the curst effects
Of thy dire arts!

Roxolana.
Recall not to my thought
What I have done—O give me instant death!

Solyman.
Death—were reward and mercy. Thou shalt live
To prove the pangs, the heart-destroying horrors,
Even all that love betray'd and chang'd to gall
Can pour upon thee. Yes, we both shall live,
Two demons, hourly to upbraid and curse
Each other's crime—Ha! drag her from the corpse.
She shall not breathe a sigh, or drop a tear,
O'er my unhappy sons— [thunder is heard.]
Hark! righteous heaven
Rolls deep th' avenging thunder o'er our heads.
Justice divine! discharge it here—on me—
On her. It cannot err: we both are guilty.