University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The Royal Palace at Moscow.
Ottokesa and Olaria.
OTTOKESA.
Yes, my Olaria, this auspicious day
Gives brightest lustre to the arms of Russia,
Give to the wishing crowd their long-lost hero,
And gives to Ottokesa All,—her Husband.

OLARIA.
Time, that with flagging wing awhile has droop'd,
Now seems ambitious to adorn your prospects;
Now to repay you for long-exil'd joys,
And gild the scene with more than noontide brightness:
This glorious conquest every hope renews,
And love and empire court you to be happy.

OTTOKESA.
Think not that empire mixes with my thoughts;
Oh no;—the Czar himself fills all the mind,
And gems and diadems look dim before him.
After a tedious absence now to view him,
Once more to clasp him in these eager arms,
Once more to share his ever-lov'd embrace,
How, my Olaria, shall I speak the transports?

OLARIA.
Your looks proclaim your feelings,—this rich joy
Sits smiling at your heart—nor is it strange
Your cheeks should glow with animated beauties.

OTTOKESA.
'Tis now ten years since first the Swedish arms
Have kept me anxious for my hero's safety;
Thou oft hast heard of each eventful change
These lingering wars have wrought;—e'en on that day
When Narva yielded to the fierce assault,
While fortune varying held the doubtful conquest,
His life was at a cast;—Oh! had I known
His danger then, I had not sure surviv'd
The dread suspense!—But lo! from fam'd Pultowa
The Swedish Monarch bends his headlong course,
And feels those arts of war he so much boasted,
Redoubled now with direst horrors on him;
Now, now he feels a people's ardour glows
With ever-kindling fires, whose hopes elate,
Whose wishes, wealth, whose every thirst of glory
Concenter only in their monarch's heart.

OLARIA.
These wonders I could hear you oft relate,
And still the theme delight me,—still should find
My ear hang list'ning on the glorious sequel.

OTTOKESA.
That sequel, hoped for long, is now arriv'd,
That sequel to my thoughts, my vows, my pray'rs,—
I see the conqueror in his every step,
Impatient to return to Ottokesa.—
Why linger then my Train?—they feel not love,
They feel not rapture, such as Ottokesa's,
Else we had met him now;—return—return—
They shall not be so dainty in the feast;
Their musick speaks but artificial joy,
Their garlands beam not, like a cheerful look,
Like joy's fair votaries,—like joy itself,
The trembling joy of an enraptur'd heart.—
I will no longer wait.

OLARIA.
Madam, they're here,
A brighter train ne'er grac'd a warrior's conquest,
No brighter honours e'er a warrior crown'd
Than these our triumph yields;—the pageant rare,
The choice select, and dignified by you.

OTTOKESA.
Then let the Choir proceed;—each dulcet note
Moscow will straight applaud, and raise a strain,
Sacred to love, to gratitude, and peace.
[The Scene withdraws, and discovers the Choir; having sung the following Song of Triumph, the Procession passes over the Stage.
[Ottokesa retires.

[Exeunt.
Ottokesa returns meeting an Attendant.
ATTENDANT.
A warrior from the camp is just arriv'd,
Who brings important news.

OTTOKESA.
Admit him straight;
He comes but to reproach my long delay.

ATTENDANT.
Madam, he's here already.

Enter Amgar.
OTTOKESA.
Welcome to Moscow,
Welcome the tongue that speaks but of my husband;
How did you leave the Czar?

AMGAR.
Madam, he's well.

OTTOKESA.
“Madam, he's well,”—have you no better answer?
There is no pleasure in thy face;—why, man,
Be warm and rapturous;—such a tameness
Suits not thy grateful tidings.—Where is he?
Is he not almost here?

AMGAR.
Alas! I fear—

OTTOKESA.
Talk not of fear.—This day to joy is sacred;
Where did you leave the Czar?

AMGAR.
Near to the suburbs.

OTTOKESA.
Then, ere thou tell'st thy message, he is here;
Thou art some loit'rer—

AMGAR.
On my knee your pardon!
Would I had fall'n inglorious in the fight,
Ere doom'd to utter my unwelcome tidings!

OTTOKESA.
Ha!—but there's more in this!—speak, quickly speak;—
That shame, that downcast look, those sighs proclaim
A message big with horror.

AMGAR.
Most gracious queen,
I at the earnest suit of all your friends
Have flown to give you notice—

OTTOKESA.
Notice of what?

AMGAR.
That ere I left the camp the cruel Czar
Had issued orders to prevent your coming.

OTTOKE
Oh! is that all!—That only meant his care,
But I will meet him straight;—my grateful heart
O'erflows with rapture at his famed success.

AMGAR.
Pardon the freedom of my grief!—Were he as true,
I should not say I'd rather die than speak.

OTTOKESA.
What dost thou mean?

AMGAR.
You judge him as he was;
But absence may have worn out his affections.

OTTOKESA.
Some direful plot must then have burst the ties
That twined our faithful hearts;—I was too blest,
And heaven prepares this downfall to my joys.

AMGAR.
Madam, he's held in most ignoble chains;—
But oh! forgive, if I again implore
Both secrecy and pardon:—some toying she
Has stopp'd his bright career in love and glory.

OTTOKESA.
How!—am I then deserted?—'tis impossible,
I will not yet believe,—he is too great,
Too noble,—oh! I throw away the thought;
He cannot be the dupe of low deceit;
Think'st thou the Czar untrue to all his vows;
Think'st thou he e'er could wrong his Ottokesa,
Whose life is wrapp'd in his, and who, he knows,
Would die to save him from the least distress?

AMGAR.
Falshood like this destroys the bonds of love,
And makes us almost doubt, in our weak state,
Of just reward to ever-struggling virtue.

OTTOKESA.
I call high Heaven to witness,—from the hour
Our hands at first were join'd,—I've ever been
A true and faithful wife,—have known no wish
But what his presence gave;—the day appear'd
Too short to speak my bliss, and from the night,
('T'was all I could)—I've borrow'd countless hours,
To pray for his success,—earnest have pray'd,
That if there aught remain'd of treasur'd woe
For future times, to pour it all on me,
So I might still preserve his faith inviolate,
And live the partner of unalter'd love;
By him too I have borne a son, a matchless son,
The model of our hopes.

AMGAR.
And yet that son—
Is doom'd by him to banishment;—treason
Is made the excuse of this inhuman sentence.

OTTOKESA.
If this be false—thou hast hazarded my life,—
If true—why, take it!

AMGAR.
My life upon the truth!
Your brother, ever anxious for your safety,
Nor less in dire alarm for Prince Alexis,
Compell'd this awful service.
Ah! could you know the pungent pangs I 've felt
Through every stage of this ill-fated journey,
You then might judge aright.
Who—who would willing bring such weighty ills,
And risk the future frowns they oft occasion?
Your lowliest servant is o'erwhelm'd with sorrow.

OTTOKESA.
Nay then my day is past,—night comes apace—
Eternal night to all my full-blown hopes.—
You may retire, for I can bear no more;
Retire this instant,
And leave me here a victim to my woe.

[Exit Amgar.
Enter Olaria.
OLARIA.
My Royal Mistress, lo! the Train await,
Their mirth is chang'd to fear, their joy to doubt,
The jarring minstrels mock the master's skill,
Each note discordant uninspir'd by you.

OTTOKESA.
You may proceed, my friend;—but oh! your Queen
Is chill'd to stone,—is speechless with her griefs,—
She knows not what she is—unless distracted.

OLARIA.
For Heaven's sake speak your sorrows.

OTTOKESA.
I'm false;
I've driven the Czar to seek a kinder home;
I've made my son a traitor,—banish'd him;
Have chang'd my bliss to woe, my joy to horror,
And here stand fix'd the monster of creation!

OLARIA.
Why mystery is this?

OTTOKESA.
Do not dare to doubt,
All this the Czar declares,—he cannot err,—
His words are sure, and his decrees are fate.

OLARIA.
In pity speak more calmly to Olaria;
You pierce her very soul.

OTTOKESA.
What can I speak?
I've told thee all, my sentence soon will pass,
And punishment await such dread offences.

Enter Captain of the Guards, attended.
CAPTAIN.
Secure the Queen, the Czar has doom'd her straight
To the Black Tower of Moscow.

OTTOKESA.
Then lead me, Sirs!

CAPTAIN.
Our Sov'reign having heard of divers plots,
Hatch'd in his absence, thinks his State in danger;
While others still of note more boldly say
His bed has been usurp'd.

OTTOKESA.
Presuming slave!
Stop that unhallow'd tongue;—I yet will teach—
Oh! no, I am too weak—I sink already,
I have no power to say—I'm innocent.
There, take me,—lodge me in my gloomy cell;
I will not plead my wrongs, tho' I can feel them.
But where, oh! where's my son?

GUARD.
Now borne to exile.

OTTOKESA.
Alas! my boy!—how—how could he offend?
By loyalty and truth!—to take him from me!
Him, whom in infancy I 've often held,
While prattling he beguil'd the weary hours
The Czar was at the wars;—whose childhood charm'd,
And whose well-temper'd mind, whose ripen'd years
Would have rewarded all a mother's fondness!

GUARD.
We dare not disobey our orders.

OTTOKESA.
True,
But had you, then, no better way to end me?
Where are your ready daggers, speedy deaths?
Had you no other means than stale pretence,
Or ling'ring accusation?

CAPTAIN.
The Czar has cause—

OTTOKESA.
Ah! “Cause!” say that again,—
“Cause,”—didst thou say? Not e'en the Czar himself,
The pride, the awe of millions, shall attempt
To prove the crimes alleg'd;—
First let him break down altars, rifle shrines,
And call the saints to wonder at his daring,
Ere boldly venture at a thought so impious!

CAPTAIN.
We'll hear no more of this.

OTTOKESA.
Yes—I will make
A last, a dread appeal:—If e'er in faith
I've waver'd from the Czar, may Death o'ertake me;—
But that would be a blessing;—then, let all ills,
If greater ills are yet to be endur'd,
Let guilt o'erwhelm my son,—let him be false,
Let him become the traitor he is deem'd,
Let him, in one vast ruin, crush the State,
Whose pride of empire, whose increasing fame,
Whose welfare still is dearer than my own!