University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A Colonade of the Palace.
Amgar, Theoroff. Trumpets sound.
THEOROFF.
The hour at length is come; the all-conquering Czar
Returns in triumph to the throne of Moscow;
Let thronging crowds all hail the laurel'd hero,
And nought be heard but minstrelsy and joy!

AMGAR.
The hour indeed is come; the cruel Czar
Has given unjustly chains to Ottokesa,
Has spread a gloom through all his thoughtful subjects,
Who in his triumphs feel their helpless state.

THEOROFF.
The Queen, by dark conspiracy has form'd
The dangers that surround her;—her lov'd son,
By Artamon accus'd of rank rebellion,
Submits to own the justice of his doom.

AMGAR.
The criminal, whose flesh is harrow'd up,
Will oft acknowledge treasons not his own;
By Artamon condemn'd, there's no appeal;
His frown is censure, accusation, fate.
What could a youth oppose to settled wiles?
What could he urge against a father's act
To bar him from succession?—to sign that act
Is all the treason that Alexis knows.

THEOROFF.
The Czar will well approve himself a parent;
E'en to the wildest Russian nature gives
A fondness for its young,—a tender care
To shelter and protect it;—shall then a mind,
Tutor'd in all the arts of polish'd life,
Feel less than a barbarian?

AMGAR.
The Czar is cruel,
And though he rules a world with awful sway
He cannot rule himself.

THEOROFF.
But sure the Queen
Hath yielded up to others those rich charms
The Czar so highly priz'd?

AMGAR.
Oh! never, never;
She is as chaste as are our mountain snows
Ere tasted by the sun;—December's ice
Would sooner yield to any soft impression
Than she to guilty love.

THEOROFF.
But for what end
Should Artamon destroy the fame of her
Who never wrong'd him?

AMGAR.
To rise upon her ruin;
To make a Swedish dame our Empress now,
Who will reward him largely with the spoils
Of an ill-gotten throne.

Theoroff.
Perhaps you wrong her!
Could she refuse?—She knows not Ottokesa.
If she believes the son and mother guilty,
Nor is herself the cause of their disgrace,
Where is her fault?

AMGAR.
Her charms become her fault,
Through them the monarch makes the crimes he wishes;
But here I pause,—and hope that she'll approve
Her innocence and worth;—if she's deceiv'd—
And I'll take care she shall be soon inform'd,
That every species of the vilest arts
Have been employ'd to raise her to a throne;
Let Artamon beware declining favour!
Time yet may bring to light his dark designs,
And pull down ruin on the head that form'd them.

THEOROFF.
But hark!—more trumpets sound! I'll hope the best,
And meet the general joy.

Amgar.
And I meanwhile
Will from the public take my devious track,
And mourn for Ottokesa.

[Exeunt.