University of Virginia Library

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!