University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Enter Irene.
Can Air-drawn Visions mock the waking Eye,
Sure 'twas his Image!—Yet, his Presence here—
After full Rumour had confirm'd him dead!—
Beneath this hostile Roof to court Destruction!
It staggers all Belief! Silent he shot
Athwart my View, amid' the glimmering Lamps,
With swift and Ghost-like Step, that seem'd to shun
All human Converse. This way, sure he mov'd.
But Oh, how chang'd! He wears no gentle Smiles,
But Terror in his Frown. He comes.—'Tis He:—
For Othman points him hither, and departs.
Disguis'd, he seeks the Queen: Secure, perhaps,
And heedless of the Ruin that surrounds him.
O generous Selim! can I see thee thus;
And not forewarn such Virtue of its Fate!
Forbid it Gratitude!

Enter Selim.
Selim.
Be still, ye Sighs!
Ye struggling Tears of filial Love, be still.
Down, down fond Heart!

Irene.
Why, Stranger, dost thou wander here?

Selim.
Oh, Ruin!

[Shunning her.
Irene.
Blest, is Irene! Blest if Selim lives!

Selim.
Am I betray'd!

Irene.
Betray'd! to whom! To Her
Whose grateful Heart would rush on Death to save thee!

Selim.
It was my Hope,
That Time had veil'd all Semblance of my Youth,
And thrown the Mask of Manhood o'er my Visage.—
Am I then known?

Irene.
To none, but Love and Me.—
To me, who late beheld thee at Oran;
Who saw thee here, beset with unseen Peril,
And flew to save the Guardian of my Honour.

Selim.
Thou Sum of ev'ry Worth! Thou Heav'n of Sweetness!
How cou'd I pour forth all my Soul before thee,
In Vows of endless Truth!—It must not be!—
This is my destin'd Goal!—The Mansion drear,
Where Grief and Anguish dwell! where bitter Tears,
And Sighs, and Lamentations, choak the Voice,
And quench the Flame of Love!

Irene.
Yet, virtuous Prince,
Tho' Love be silent, Gratitude may speak.
Hear then her Voice, which warns thee from these Walls.
Mine be the grateful Task, to tell the Queen,
Her Selim lives. Ruin and Death inclose thee.
O speed thee hence, while yet Destruction sleeps!

Selim.
Too generous Maid! Oh, Heav'n! that Barbarossa
Shou'd be Irene's Father.

Irene.
Injur'd Prince!
Lose not a Thought on me! I know thy Wrongs,
And merit not thy Love. No, learn to hate me.
Or if Irene e'er can hope such Kindness,
First pity, then forget me!

Selim.
When I do,
May Heav'n pour down its righteous Vengeance on me!

Irene.
Hence! haste thee, hence!

Selim.
Wou'd it were possible!

Irene.
What can prevent it?

Selim.
Justice! Fate, and Justice!
A murder'd Father's Wrongs!

Irene.
Ah, Prince, take heed!
I have a Father too!

Selim.
What did I say?—my Father?—not my Father.—
Can I depart till I have seen Zaphira?—

Irene.
Justice, said'st thou?
That Word hath struck me, like a Peal of Thunder!
Thine Eye, which wont to melt with gentle Love,
Now glares with Terror! Thy Approach by Night—
Thy dark Disguise, thy Looks, and fierce Demenor,
Yes, all conspire to tell me, I am lost!
Think, Selim, what Irene must indure,
Shou'd she be guilty of a Father's Blood!

Selim.
A Father's Blood!

Irene.
Too sure. In vain thou hid'st
Thy dire Intent! Forbid it, Heav'n, Irene
Shou'd see Destruction hov'ring o'er her Father,
And not prevent the Blow!

Selim.
Is this thy Love,
Thy Gratitude to him who sav'd thy Honour?

Irene.
'Tis Gratitude to him who gave me Life:
He who preserv'd me claims the second Place.

Selim.
Is he not a Tyrant, Murderer?

Irene.
O spare my Shame! I am his Daughter still!

Selim.
Wou'dst thou become the Partner of his Crimes?

Irene.
Forbid it Heav'n!—Yet I must save a Father!

Selim.
Come on then. Lead me to him. Glut thine Eye
With Selim's Blood—

Irene.
Was e'er Distress like mine!
O Selim can I see my Father Perish!—
Wou'd I had ne'er been born!

[Weeps.
Selim.
Thou virtuous Maid!
My Heart bleeds for thee!

Irene.
Quit, O quit these Walls!
Heav'n will ordain some gentler, happier Means,
To heal thy Woes! Thy dark Attempt is big
With Horror and Destruction! Generous Prince!
Resign thy dreadful Purpose, and depart!

Selim.
May not I see Zaphira, ere I go?
Thy gentle Pity will not, sure, deny us
The mournful Pleasure of a parting Tear?

Irene.
Go, then, and give her Peace. But fly these Walls,
As soon as Morning shines:—Else, tho' Despair
Drive me to Madness;—yet—to save a Father!—
O Selim! spare my Tongue the horrid Sentence!—
Fly! ere Destruction seize thee!
[Exit Irene.

Selim.
Death and Ruin!
Must I then fly?—what!—Coward-like betray
My Father, Mother, Friends?—Vain Terrors, hence!
Danger looks big, to Fear's deluded Eye.
But Courage, on the Heights and Steps of Fate,
Dares snatch her glorious Purpose from the Edge
Of Peril: and while sick'ning Caution shrinks,
Or self-betray'd, falls headlong down the Steep;
Calm Resolution, unappal'd, can walk
The giddy Brink, secure.—Now to the Queen.—
How shall I dare to meet her thus unknown!
How stifle the warm Transports of my Heart,
Which pants at her Approach!—Who waits Zaphira?—

Enter a female Slave.
Slave.
Whence this Intrusion, Stranger? at an Hour
Destin'd to Rest?

Selim.
I come, to seek the Queen,
On matter of such Import, as may claim
Her speedy Audience.

Slave.
Thy Request is vain.
Ev'n now the Queen hath heard the mournful Tale
Of her Son's Death, and drown'd in Grief she lies.
Thou canst not see her.

Selim.
Tell the Queen, I come
On Message from her dear, departed Son;
And bring his last Request.

Slave.
I'll haste to tell her.
With all a Mother's tend'rest Love she'll fly,
To meet that Name.
[Exit Slave.

Selim.
O ill-dissembling Heart!—My ev'ry Limb
Trembles with grateful Terror!—Wou'd to Heav'n,
I had not come! Some Look, or starting Tear,
Will sure betray me.—Honest Guile assist
My fault'ring Tongue!

Enter Zaphira.
Zaphira.
Where is this pious Stranger?—
Say, generous Youth, whose Pity leads thee thus
To seek the weeping Mansions of Distress!
Didst thou behold in Death my hapless Son?
Didst thou receive my Selim's parting Breath?
Did he remember me?

Selim.
Most honor'd Queen!
Thy Son,—Forgive these gushing Tears, which flow
To see Distress like thine!

Zaphira.
I thank thy Pity!
'Tis generous thus to feel for others Woe.—
What of my Son? Say, didst thou see him die?

Selim.
By Barbarossa's dread Command I come,
To tell thee, that these Eyes alone beheld
Thy Son expire.

Zaphira.
Oh Heav'n!—my dearest Child!

Selim.
That ev'n in Death, the pious Youth remember'd
His royal Mother's Woes.

Zaphira.
Where, where was I?
Relentless Fate!—that I shou'd be deny'd
The mournful Privilege, to see him die!
To clasp him in the Agony of death,
And catch his parting Soul! O tell me all,
All that he said and look'd: Deep in my Heart
That I may treasure ev'ry parting Word,
Each dying Whisper of my dear, dear Son?

Selim.
Let not my Words offend.—What if he said,
Go, tell my hapless Mother, that her Tears
Have stream'd too long: Then bid her weep no more:
Bid her forget the Husband and the Son,
In Barbarossa's Arms!

Zaphira.
O, false as Hell!
Thou art some creeping Slave to Barbarossa,
Sent to surprize my unsuspecting Heart!
False Slave, begone!—My Son betray me thus!—
Cou'd he have e'er conceiv'd so base a Purpose,
My Griefs for him shou'd end in great Disdain!—
But he was brave; and scorn'd a Thought so vile!
Wretched Zaphira! How art thou become
The Sport of Slaves!—O Griefs incurable!

Selim.
Yet hope for Peace, unhappy Queen! Thy Woes
May yet have end.

Zaphira.
Why weep'st thou Crocodile?
Thy treach'rous Tears are vain.

Selim.
My Tears are honest.
I am not what thou think'st.

Zaphira.
Who art thou then!

Selim.
Oh, my full Heart!—I am—thy Friend, and Selim,
I come not to insult but heal thy Woes.—
Now check thy Heart's wild Tumult, while I tell thee—
Perhaps—thy Son yet lives.

Zaphira.
O gracious Heav'n!
Do I not dream? say, Stranger,—didst thou tell me,
Perhaps my Selim lives?—What do I ask?
Fond, fond, and fruitless Hope!—What mortal Pow'r
Can e'er re-animate his mangled Coarse,
Shoot Life into the cold and silent Tomb,
Or bid the ruthless Grave give up its Dead!

Selim.
O pow'rful Nature, thou wilt sure betray me!
[Aside.
Thy Selim lives: For since his rumour'd Death,
I saw him at Oran.

Zaphira.
Is not then, my Selim dead?

Selim.
He is not.

Zaphira.
Didst thou not say, thou saw'st my son expire?
Didst not ev'n now relate his dying Words?

Selim.
It was an honest Falshood, meant to prove
Zaphira's unstain'd Virtue.

Zaphira.
Why—but Othman—
Othman affirm'd that my poor Son was dead:
And I have heard, the Murderer is come,
In triumph o'er his dear and innocent Blood.

Selim.
I am that Murderer.—Beneath this Guise
I spread th'abortive Tale of Selim's Death,
And haply won the Tyrant's Confidence.
Hence gain'd Access: And from thy Selim tell thee,
Selim yet lives; and honours all thy Virtues.

Zaphira.
O generous Youth, who art thou?—From what Clime
Comes such exalted Virtue, as dares give
A Pause to Griefs like mine!—As dares approach,
And prop the Ruin tott'ring on its Base,
Which selfish Caution shuns!—Oh, say—who art thou?

Selim.
A friendless Youth, self-banish'd with thy Son;
Long his Companion in Distress and Danger:
One who rever'd thy Worth in prosp'rous Days:
And more reveres thy Virtue in Distress.

Zaphira.
O tell me truly then—mock not my Woes,
But tell me truly,—does my Selim live?

Selim.
He does, by Heav'n!

Zaphira.
And does he still remember
His Father's Wrongs, and mine!

Selim.
He bade me tell thee,
That in his Heart indelibly are stamp'd
His Father's Wrongs, and Thine: That he but waits
'Till awful Justice may unsheath her Sword,
And Lust and Murder tremble at her Frown!
That till th'Arrival of that happy Hour,
Deep in his Soul the hidden Fire shall glow,
And his Breast labour with the great Revenge!

Zaphira.
Eternal Blessings crown my virtuous Son!
I feel my Heart revive! Here, Peace once more
Begins to dawn.

Selim.
Much honor'd Queen, farewel.

Zaphira.
Not yet,—not yet;—indulge a Mother's Love!
In thee, the kind Companion of his Griefs,
Methinks I see my Selim stand before me.
Depart not yet. A thousand fond Requests
Croud on my Mind. Wishes, and Pray'rs and Tears,
Are all I have to give. O bear him these!

Selim.
Take Comfort then; for know thy Son, o'erjoy'd
To rescue thee, wou'd bleed at ev'ry Vein!—
Bid her, he said, yet hope we may be blest!
Bid her remember that the Ways of Heav'n,
Tho' dark, are just: That oft' some Guardian Pow'r
Attends unseen, to save the innocent!
But if high Heav'n decrees our Fall,—O bid her
Firmly to wait the Stroke; prepar'd alike
To live or die! and then he wept, as I do.

Zaphira.
O righteous Heav'n! Thou hast at length o'erpay'd
My bitt'rest Pangs; if my dear Selim lives,
And lives for me!—hear my departing Pray'r!
[Kneels.
O spare my Son!—Protect his tender Years!
Be thou his Guide through Dangers and Distress!
Soften the Rigours of his cruel Exile,
And lead him to his Throne!—when I am gone,
Bless thou his peaceful Reign! Oh, early bless him
With the sweet Pledges of connubial Love;
That he may win his Virtue's just Reward,
And taste the Raptures which a Parent's Heart
Reaps from a Child like him! Not for myself,—
But my dear Son,—accept my parting Tears!
[Exit Zaphira.

Selim.
Enter Othman and Sadi.

Sadi.
'Tis well nigh Midnight.

Othman.
What—in Tears, my Prince?

Selim.
But Tears of Joy: For I have seen Zaphira,
And pour'd the Balm of Peace into her Breast:
Think not these Tears unnerve me, valiant Friends:
They have but harmoniz'd my Soul; and wak'd
All that is Man within me, to disdain
Peril, or Death.—What Tydings from the City?

Sadi.
All, all is ready. Our confed'rate Friends
Burn with Impatience, till the Hour arrive.

Selim.
What is the Signal of th'appointed Hour?

Sadi.
The Midnight Watch gives Signal of our Meeting:
And when the second Watch of Night is rung,
The work of Death begins.

Selim.
Speed, speed ye Minutes!
Now let the rising Whirlwind shake Algiers,
And Justice guide the storm! Scarce two Hours hence—

Sadi.
Scarce more than one.

Selim.
But as ye love my Life,
Let your Zeal hasten on the great Event:
The Tyrant's Daughter found, and knew me here;
And half suspects the Cause.

Othman.
Too daring Prince,
Retire with us! Her Fears will sure betray thee!

Selim.
What? leave my helpless Mother, here, a Prey
To Cruelty and Lust?—I'll perish first:
This very Night the Tyrant threatens Violence:
I'll watch his Steps: I'll haunt him thro' the Palace:
And, shou'd he meditate a Deed so vile,
I'll hover o'er him like an unseen Pestilence,
And blast him in his Guilt!

Sadi.
Intrepid Prince!
Worthy of Empire!—Yet accept my Life,
My worthless Life: Do thou retire with Othman;
I will protect Zaphira.

Selim.
Think'st thou, Sadi,
That when the trying Hour of Peril comes,
Selim will shrink into a common Man!
Worthless were he to rule, who dares not claim
Pre-eminence in Danger. Urge no more.
Here shall my Station be: And if I fall,
O Friends, let me have Vengeance!—Tell me now,
Where is the Tyrant?

Othman.
Revelling at the Banquet.

Selim.
'Tis good.—Now tell me, how our Pow'rs are destin'd?

Sadi.
Near ev'ry Port, a secret Band is posted:
By these the watchful Centinels must perish:
The rest is easy: For the glutted Troops
Lie drown'd in Sleep; the Dagger's cheapest Prey.
Almanzor, with his Friends, will circle round
The Avenues of the Palace. Othman and I
Will lead our brave Confederates (all sworn
To conquer or to die) and burst the Gates
Of this foul Den. Then tremble Barbarossa!

Selim.
Oh, how the near Approach of this great Hour
Fires all my Soul! But, valiant Friends, I charge you,
Reserve the Murd'rer to my just Revenge;
My Poignard claims his Blood.

Othman.
Forgive me, Prince!
Forgive me Doubts!—Think—shou'd the fair Irene—

Selim.
Thy Doubts are vain. I wou'd not spare the Tyrant,
Tho' the sweet Maid lay weeping at my Feet!
Nay, shou'd he fall by any Hand but mine;
By Heav'n, I'd think my honor'd Father's Blood
Scarce half reveng'd! My Love indeed is strong!
But Love shall yield to Justice!

Sadi.
Gallant Prince!
Bravely resolv'd!

Selim.
But is the City quiet?

Sadi.
All, all is hush'd. Throughout the empty Streets,
Nor Voice, nor Sound. As if th'Inhabitants,
Like the presaging Herds that seek the Covert
Ere the loud Thunder rowls, had inly felt
And shun'd th'impending Uproar.

Othman.
There is a solemn Horror in the Night too,
That pleases me: A general Pause thro' Nature:
The Winds are hush'd—

Sadi.
And as I pass'd the Beach,
The lazy Billow scarce cou'd lash the Shore:
Nor Star peeps thro' the Firmament of Heav'n—

Selim.
And lo—where Eastward, o'er the sullen Wave,
The waining Moon, depriv'd of half her Orb,
Rises in Blood: Her Beam, well-nigh extinct,
Faintly contents with Darkness—
[Bell tolls.
Hark!—what meant
That tolling Bell?

Othman.
It rings the Midnight Watch.

Sadi.
This was the Signal—
Come, Othman, we are call'd: The passing Minutes
Chide our Delay: Brave Othman, let us hence.

Selim.
One last Embrace!—nor doubt, but crown'd with Glory,
We soon shall meet again. But oh, remember
Amid' Tumult's Rage, remember Mercy!
Stain not a righteous Cause with guiltless Blood!
Warn our brave Friends, that we unsheath the Sword,
Not to destroy, but save! Nor let blind Zeal,
Or wanton Cruelty, e'er turn its Edge
On Age or Innocence! Or bid us stab,
Where the most pitying Angel in the Skies
That now looks on us from his blest Abode,
Wou'd wish that we shou'd spare.

Othman.
So may we prosper,
As Mercy shall direct us!

Selim.
Farewel, Friends!

Sadi.
Intrepid Prince, Farewel!

[Ex. Oth. and Sadi.
Selim.
Now sleep and Silence
Brood o'er the City.—The devoted Centinel
Now takes his lonely stand; and idly dreams,
Of that to-morrow, which shall never come!
In this dread Interval, O busy Thought,
From outward Things descend into thyself!
Search deep my Heart! Bring with thee awful Conscience,
And firm resolve! That in th'approaching Hour
Of Blood and Horror, I may stand unmov'd,
Nor fear to strike where Justice calls, nor dare
To strike where she forbids!—Why bear I then
This dark, insidious Dagger?—'Tis the Badge
Of vile Assassins; of the Coward Hand
That dares not meet its Foe!—Detested Thought!
Yet,—as foul Lust and Murder, tho' on Thrones
Triumphant, still retain their hell-born Quality;
So Justice, groaning beneath countless Wrongs,
Quits not her spotless and celestial Nature;
But in th'unhallow'd Murderer's Disguise,
Can sanctify this Steel!
Then be it so:—Witness, ye Pow'rs of Heav'n,
That not from you, but from the Murd'rer's Eye,
I wrap myself in Night!—To you I stand
Reveal'd in Noon-tide Day!—Oh, cou'd I arm
My Hand with War! Then like to you, array'd
In Storm and Fire, my swift-avenging Thunder
Shou'd blast this Tyrant. But since Fate denies
That Privilege, I'll sieze on what it gives:
Like the deep-cavern'd Earthquake, burst beneath him,
And whelm his Throne, his Empire, and himself,
In one prodigious Ruin!