Edward and Eleonora A Tragedy |
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| 3. | SCENE III. |
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 | Edward and Eleonora |  |
SCENE III.
Theald, Selim disguis'd as a Dervise.Theald.
With me, what would'st thou, Dervise?
Selim.
The Princess Eleonora lives she still?
Theald.
She lives, and that is all.
Selim.
Allah be prais'd!
Then lives the Honour of the brightning Name
Of Saracen and Mussulman.
Theald.
How, Dervise?
What can wipe out the Horror of this Deed?
Selim.
A holy Man's Humanity shall cancel
The savage Fury of an impious Bigot.
The savage Fury of an impious Bigot.
But, Christian Imam, lead me to the Princess.
For know, a Dervise, who, amid the Rocks
Of Cedar-shaking Lebanon, beheld
Twelve hundred Moons compleat their pale Career;
And who by Fasting, Meditation, Prayer,
And silent Converse with instructive Nature,
Had from his inward Eye and peaceful Heart,
Purg'd off the Mist and Turbulence of Passion:
This venerable Dervise, not confin'd
To the still Transports of unactive Virtue,
Felt a warm Zeal to serve his Fellow-Creatures;
And to his pious Search the Grace was given
Of finding out a Remedy for Poison.
Nor can it come too late, while wand'ring Life
Yet, with faint Impulse, stirs along the Veins.
For know, a Dervise, who, amid the Rocks
Of Cedar-shaking Lebanon, beheld
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And who by Fasting, Meditation, Prayer,
And silent Converse with instructive Nature,
Had from his inward Eye and peaceful Heart,
Purg'd off the Mist and Turbulence of Passion:
This venerable Dervise, not confin'd
To the still Transports of unactive Virtue,
Felt a warm Zeal to serve his Fellow-Creatures;
And to his pious Search the Grace was given
Of finding out a Remedy for Poison.
Nor can it come too late, while wand'ring Life
Yet, with faint Impulse, stirs along the Veins.
Theald.
Ha! Dervise, art thou sure of what thou say'st?
Selim.
Yes. He himself consign'd it to my Care.
The powerful Juice of Plants, for which he scal'd
The tufted Cliff, and o'er the Torrent hung;
The Balm of Mountain-Herbs, where the gross Soil
But little mixes, temper'd Sun and Dew.
And not to those of his own Faith, alone,
He this, from narrow Charity, bequeath'd;
No, as it was the Gift of bounteous Nature,
He bade it freely go to all her Sons.
Come, lead me to the Princess: Tho' she lay
Even in the last Extremity, tho' call'd
By the fierce Angel who compels the Dead,
Yet bold Experience gives me Room to hope.
Oft have I seen its vital Touch diffuse
New Vigour thro' the poison'd Streams of Life,
When almost settled into dead Stagnation;
Swift as a Southern Gale unbinds the Flood.
Say, wilt thou trust me with the Trial, Christian.
Theald.
Thou know'st, we have great Reason for Distrust;
But Fear in those who can no longer hope
Were idle and absurd.
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Bright Heaven! what Fear?
Is there a Slave of such inhuman Baseness
Nurs'd on the sick'ning Bosom of this Earth,
To add fresh Outrage to a dying Princess?
For Virtue dying? Look into my Eye:
Does one weak Ray there shun thy keenest Gaze?
Say, dost thou there behold so foul a Bottom?
Theald.
No; seeming Truth and generous Candour shine
In what thou say'st. Come, follow me, good Dervise.
Selim.
A Moment yet.—Should Heaven accord Success,
I have, besides the Life of Eleonora,
My injur'd Sultan's wounded Name to save;
Whose Soul abhors the Crime imputed to him.
Then let me be the first who to the Prince
Imparts the happy News; that Selim's Honour,
Enforc'd by Edward's Joy, may strike more deep,
With strong Conviction—But of this hereafter—
| Edward and Eleonora | |