Mustapha A Tragedy |
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| 7. | SCENE VII. |
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 | Mustapha |  |
SCENE VII.
Solyman, Osman.Solyman.
Protect me, heaven!
Osman.
My Lord?
169
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!
| Mustapha | |