University of Virginia Library

SCENE FOURTH.

THE PRINCESS, MICHAEL ZILUGO, THE LORDS OF THE COUNCIL.
A numerous crowd of People and Soldiers, COUNT CILLEY in the midst of them, burst open the great doors of the Church in the side scene, on the South side of the altar. The Princess, on this alarm, again kneels, and extends her right arm upon the altar table.
PRINCESS
(with terrour and distress).
Oh! can I hope to find this Altar sacred,
When I myself have daringly profan'd it?
Why are ye thus tumultuously assembled?
And, with licentious disrespect, how dare ye,
With force profane, pollute this Sanctuary?

OLD OFFICER
(amongst the foremost of the people).
To supplicate our Princess to redeem us,
To beg her mercy, in this hour of woe.

PRINCESS
(with extreme anguish rising).
Oh! would to Heaven that I had power to save you!

OLD OFFICER.
O Princess! You, and You alone, can save us.
Your godlike Father's, and your Grandsire's, battles
I've toil'd to win, in many a hard-fought field:
But never saw I such unequal war,
As threats us now.

PRINCESS.
The valour of our troops,
So oft victorious, shall conquer still.

OLD OFFICER.
Bootless is valour 'gainst unnumber'd legions;
Our succours are cut off, our Regent lost.
Soon must the Turk be master of our walls.
Think of this city sack'd, given up a prey
To cruel, lustful, soldiers, drunk with victory—
Nothing but Hell, with all its Fiends unchain'd,
Can be so dreadful. The old man's groan, half-butcher'd,
Dragg'd by the hair, from out the victor's path;
The infant's plaintive cry, and the shrill shriek
Of helpless virgins, then must strike your ear:
Such scenes of carnage meet your eyes, as nature
Shudders to view: dire miseries, unknown,
Save, where stern War fixes his iron seat.

PRINCESS.
Fight, gracious Heaven! our cause.

OLD OFFICER.
Agmunda! Heaven
Vouchsafes to you alone, the power to save us.
Could all our lives redeem you from this marriage,
Freely each Youth, each Veteran, would bleed.
But, from the Sultan's power, they cannot save you:
And if they cannot save, why should they fall?
Will thy own woes be less, if thousands share them?
Belgrade in flames, a People massacred,
A Kingdom lost, would these be consolations?
'Tis not in us to mitigate thy fate;
Then nobly bear it, shield us from destruction.
Ransom the Throne of thy renown'd Forefathers:
Ransom our matrons, virgins, helpless infants:
Ransom thy native Land from desolation!

PRINCESS.
Can life that ransom pay? I will consent
To suffer any death; unmov'd will meet it,
With patient firmness, and my blood pour forth,
A free libation, in your heartfelt cause.
I love my Father's and my Brother's Subjects;
And I should glory in that Death which saves them:
(In a lowered voice, with fear and horrour.)
But—I can never wed this savage Infidel.

COUNT CILLEY.
Inhuman Princess! wilt thou then decree
Half our brave citizens to death? the rest,
To be driven forth, to distant lands, and sold
For slaves?

PRINCESS.
Seek not to aggravate my fate:
I am most wretched.

COUNT CILLEY
(pointing to the people).
Think what then are these,
Who supplicate thy mercy? View thy victims.
This City, for three days, thou doom'st to pillage,
To rapine, fire, and the destructive sword;
For such are Mahomet's compacts with his soldiers.
(Pointing to the Nobles.)
Turn here, and view the fourth day's sacrifice.
For Mahomet then Belgrade in triumph enters,
To take his Spoil; when to a bloody banquet,
In chains, these Nobles, with their wives and children,
Before the insulting Victor will be dragg'd;
And there, with barbarous taunts, midst revelling
And minstrelsy, will be, with study'd cruelty,
Mangled, and slain, to crown the savage feast.
Constantinople thus, this Sultan enter'd;
Nor spar'd the Imperial Race of Constantine,—
They, at his first infernal banquet bled;
And, at succeeding feasts, the Grecian Nobles
Were slaughter'd, in cold blood,—nor found a grave.

FIRST LORD.
'Tis from no common fate we beg redemption,
When such a peerless Victim we must yield.
Peace, on such terms, bring tears, and mourning with it.
And not rejoicing. Thy great soul, Agmunda!
Is equal to this godlike deed of mercy;
To wed this Tyrant, and redeem a people.
Be greatly worthy of thy royal race,
Be more than thy Imperial Fathers were,
O! be the Guardian Genius of thy Country!
Save, with Belgrade, the whole Hungarian Realm:
If once the Turk be master of this City,
Hungaria is no more. Then, Princess, save us!

(When the first Lord has done speaking, the people kneel. The Lords of the Council, their hands crossed on their breasts, bend forward, with supplicating solemnity.—a pause.)
PRINCESS
(with a voice half-suppressed by tears).
O! rise.—My soul feels all your woes. The fate
Which threatens you, freezes my heart with horrour.
Oh! were but this my funeral hour; and all
Your tears for me alone. (Falter's)
I plead for mercy;
I claim protection from this holy Altar.
(Kneels at the altar as before.)
O People! do not violate its sanctity!
(Weeping)
Give me not up by force to this destroyer!

OLD OFFICER.
Have royal tears more power to melt than ours?
Or is not pity, in a princely breast,
Assailable by common woes? We plead
For thousands, you reject our supplications.
And were we, hard of heart, to think of force,
You clasp an altar, and prevent the deed.
At thought of sacrilege we tremble, Princess!
But when fierce Mahomet comes, then can no church
Protect; no holy altar guard; no tears,
Though Saints should shed them, save you from his power.
Since you must suffer, doom not thousands with you.

PRINCESS.
'Twould be an action, worthy of my Race,
To prop a tottering Throne, redeem a People,
Myself the sole, sad, victim of misfortune.
(Pauses from terrour almost breathless.)
This glorious sacrifice—I cannot make.
Alas! devoted People! 'tis too late;—
(Wringing her hands and weeping.)
I am a Wife.

(The People retreat a few steps back, as terrified, making a confused noise of sorrow.)
OLD OFFICER.
Then we are lost indeed!
Our succours are cut off, our Regent fallen,
Our King is fled, our Princess too deserts us.
Let us return to our sad homes. Not long
They will be ours: for desolation comes.

COUNT CILLEY.
Remain! I am your friend; and I will save you.
O'er your misfortunes, People! my heart weeps:
Though by your King abandon'd, I'll protect you.
(To the Princess, with contemptuous rage, who rises.)
Whose Wife art thou? What wretch has dar'd accept
Thy hand? Him instant death awaits for treason;
And thou deserv'st no less. Who has betray'd us?

PRINCESS
(with a resolute voice).
Myself.

COUNT CILLEY.
Who is thy paramour? Declare!

PRINCESS.
I will not answer this licentious mode
Of disrespectful speech.

COUNT CILLEY.
But thou shalt answer it.
Hast thou so vilely cast thyself away,
Hast thou so low descended, that thou blushest
To own thy choice, before this injur'd People?

PRINCESS
(with great dignity and firmness).
A Hero, from his cradle, known to fame,
His country's honour, and her best support;
Pride of her councils, victor in her wars;
The soul of justice, and the arm of power;
Him, has my heart selected for its lord;
Him, do I glory to esteem, and love;
To him, intrust this People, and Myself,—
He can protect their rights, and guard his own.

COUNT CILLEY.
My friends! ye shall have retribution still:
The voice of Justice bids you right yourselves.
(Pointing to the Princess. Zilugo half draws his sword.)
That woman seize; unless she now declare
What wretch is rais'd to trample on your necks;
That ye may piece-meal scatter his vile limbs:
Then she, to Mahomet, shall your ransom be.
Speak! for that shrine shall not protect thee, silent.
Perhaps thy coward Brother, who is fled,
Clings to some altar too. The King who can
Desert his throne, from all allegiance frees
The People; he dissolves their compact with him;
And they may choose a King whose heart can feel
Their woes, whose arm can succour their distress,
Who, in their utmost need, will not desert them.

SOME OF THE PEOPLE.
Let Ulrick be our King!

ZILUGO
(with anger, to the People).
We have a King.
He who bereaves his Crown, shall feel my justice:
(The Lords half draw their swords, as approving what Zilugo says.)
My sword shall strike him, though he were Count Cilley,
Hemm'd in by thousands, singly I'd oppose him.

SOME OF THE PEOPLE.
Our King deserts us.

COUNT CILLEY
(to the People).
I will save you still.
Assert yourselves, and all your foes shall tremble.
(To the Princess.)
Speak, I command thee! and declare thy partner
In this complotted treason, which demands
A punishment condign on thee, and him.

PRINCESS.
Art thou, Count Cilley? Surely some base impostor,
Beneath his name, thus loudly bawls sedition,
Excites revolt, and tempts to foulest murder.
You whom the States chose Guardian to their King,
Because his Uncle, have their choice dishonour'd.
They hop'd to train a tender vine around
A healthy parent elm: but, when the tendrils
Of the young plant shoot curling up to climb,
They clasp a wither'd branch, which, treacherous snapping,
Yields no support, but lets it fall to ruin.
Now, when my Brother wants your aid and counsel,
When I might have found comfort from your friendship,
Oh! you forsake, defame, and plot against us.
False to your trust, rebellious to your Prince,
To your own blood a traitor, I disclaim you.
O'er me, my Lord! henceforth, you have no power.

COUNT CILLEY.
I'll shew thee that I have, and courage too,
To execute a speedy vengeance on thee.
Speak! give thy vile seducer to our wrath,
Or with that Sword, which Rome's great Pontiff sent,
To guard our cause, I'll sacrifice thee here,
As excommunicate, as one unhallow'd,
To whom an Altar's sanctity extends not.

(Count Cilley advances to the step of the platform. Zilugo draws his sword, advances up the step, and stands before the altar table. The Lords of the Council draw their swords.)
ZILUGO.
Ulrick! that Sword is here in trust: 'tis sacrilege
To seize it.

PRINCESS.
(To the People.)

COUNT CILLEY
(to the People).
Has not your coward Monarch left his throne,
At rumour only of the Turks' invasion?
Will you, brave Men, support a dastard Prince,
Who flies to prison, rather than share your danger?

PRINCESS.
(She flies amongst the people, who in part surround her, at a little distance.)

OLD OFFICER.
We'll fight your cause. We'll die or suffer with you.
(Kneeling.)
Princess! for all, I swear allegiance to you:
We trust your heart has made a worthy choice.

PRINCESS.
The Regent's Son, Corvinus, is my Husband.

COUNT CILLEY
(aiming his sword at her).
Traitress! my tardy justice finds thee. Die.

(The Old Officer throws himself before the Princess, and seizes Count Cilley's arm uplifted to strike, and holds it suspended. Zilugo and the Lords of the Council advance with drawn swords; Zilugo foremost, who takes Count Cilley's sword from his hand.)
PRINCESS.
Spare, spare my Uncle; I command you, friends!
Restore his sword.
(Zilugo gives back the sword.)
Cruel, insidious Uncle!
Retire!—Reflect! that treason, and foul murder,
Are such deep crimes, as with confusion load
Even the time-honour'd head of age with shame.

COUNT CILLEY.
Traitress! may she be curs'd. Oh! may'st thou keep
Thy faith with this mean slave, this wretch Corvinus,
As to his Father thou hast kept thy Oath.

(Exit in a rage.)