University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE, the Temple of OSIRIS, at MEMPHIS.
ORUS, the High Priest, sacrificing at the altar. SETHONA kneeling before the statue of OSIRIS.
SETHONA.
Thou pow'r divine! whose awful presence shakes
This sacred fane; if e'er thy pitying hand
Was stretch'd to helpless mortals in distress,
O now protect a weak defenceless maid,
From Amasis, whose hands are drench'd in blood,
The blood of Menes, dear-lamented youth!
And Seraphis, my father, Egypt's king.

ORUS.
(advancing from the altar.)
Lo! the devoted victims are consum'd,
And all due rites of sacrifice perform'd,
Upon the altar of the great Osiris!

SETHONA.
Thou sacred prophet! whose enlighten'd mind
Pierces the shades of dark futurity,
What have the gods decreed? Am I condemn'd
To wed my father's murderer? The man
Who tore my destin'd husband from my arms,
Ev'n at the altar e'er the rites began,
And left me thus to sorrow, to despair.

ORUS.
Daughter of grief! Sethona! every hour
Changes the state of things. To day the sea,
Rous'd by the Northern wind, assails the sky,
And wears the face of ruin. E'er the morn
Unveils her eyes, it smooths its ruffl'd brow,
And holds a mirrour to the stars of heav'n.

SETHONA.
Orus, I owe this emblem of my fate
To thy humanity. What ray of joy,
Can pierce the deep, dark dwelling of my soul,
Where Menes lies entomb'd?

ORUS.
Time will unfold
More than thy hopes could cherish. Know, this night,
This present hour, is pregnant with events,
To me in part reveal'd.

SETHONA.
Ha! what events?
The dimest shade of hope, in grief like mine,
Fancy may work to comfort.

ORUS.
As I stood
Before the altar of Ammonian Jove,
In fervent meditation, I beheld
The tow'rs of Memphis tottering, and the Nile
Rushing thro' all her gates. I heard a sound,
As when the winds, contending in their caves,
Disturb the mountains; saw the shadowy lines
Of banner'd armies closing in the air.
Streaming with blood, a headless trunk appear'd,
Grasping a scepter. O'er him strode in steel
The warlike form of Menes. Last uprose,
Dim thro' the gleam of arms, a hoary head
Encircled with a gorgeous diadem:
It seem'd thy father!

SETHONA.
Seraphis! my father,
And Menes? hapless ghosts!

ORUS.
Peace to their shades!
'Twas but a vision of the mental eye,
Th'unbodied semblances of future things,
And not departed spirits.

SETHONA.
Hope begins
To dawn upon me. In thy words I feel
The force of inspiration. Yet my grief
Succeeds, like darkness to the transient gleam
Of some deluding meteor! Can the tomb
Give up its dead? Can Menes hear my voice,
And rescue me from the detested arms
Of Amasis? Can Seraphis restore
The long extinguish'd glories of his line?
Can I forget my sorrow? Idle dreams!

ORUS.
And yet, such dreams may take substantial forms.
Three days have not elaps'd since from this fane
Menes was torn by Amasis, as yet
No certain tidings of his fate are known:
Tho' fame reports his death. To-day his friend,
Noble Otanes, by the king's command
From Säis came, where he hath govern'd long,
Averse from courts, with dignity and fame;
Worthy his high desent from Egypt's kings.

SETHONA.
Oh, might I see him, e'er the Tyrant's rage
Destroys his sacred life.

ORUS.
Fear not his rage.
The fate of Menes has already rais'd
A storm in Memphis, that may shake his throne.
Otanes, on his entrance, has received
The highest honours by a subject borne.

Enter MYRTÆUS. (Orus retires to the altar.)
MYRTÆUS.
Prepare the nuptial rites. The king approaches.

SETHONA.
Alas, Myrtæus! whither shall I fly?
Who can protect me! innocence is weak,
And tears, like the cold chrystal drops in caves,
Can only serve to petrify the heart
Of Amasis.

MYRTÆUS.
His soul is fierce, but love—

SETHONA.
Speak not of love, from Amasis, nor think
So meanly of my virtue, of my faith,
And firm affection for departed Menes.
Tho' dead, his image dwells within my soul,
And leaves no room for others,—all my joys
Were grafted on him. Now the tree is fall'n,
And I am left to wither on the ground.

MYRTÆUS.
Recal not thus the mem'ry of the dead,
Nor rend the veil which nature kindly draws
Between us and the tomb; and yet my soul,
When thou complain'st, seems covetous of grief.
I could sit down and listen to thy tale,
Devour each piteous circumstance of woe,
And mourn with thee for ever.

SETHONA.
Oh! Myrtæus!
He was a friend most worthy of thy tears:
Humane, susceptible of the distress
Of others, but unshaken by his own.
Gentle in peace, but terrible in war,
As the rude blast, that from our desart pours,
Dark with the fate of armies.

MYRTÆUS.
Ah! forbear;
You pierce my very soul.

SETHONA.
O, could I fly
To some brown desart, far remov'd from man,
And in the shade of some poor lonely tree,
Beside a ling'ring stream, in silence sit,
And muse from morn to eve, from eve to morn.
Or tell my sister of the sky, that wanes
With me apace, the story of my woe;
There undisturb'd, I might devour my grief,
Like some sad ghost, that nightly sits alone,
Pale, bending o'er the slowly twinkling flame
Of a decaying meteor.

(flourish of trumpets,
MYRTÆUS.
'Tis the king!

SETHONA.
Whither shall I resort? Amid my foes
I stand alone, unpitied and forlorn!
[Exit Sethona.

Enter AMASIS attended.
AMASIS.
Why flies Sethona? Now the voice of mirth
Resounds thro' Egypt, and propitious stars
Combine to bless this hour?

MYRTÆUS.
At thy approach
She suddenly withdrew, tears in her eyes
Her looks expressing anguish and despair.

AMASIS.
The mere caprice of women, still afraid,
Or seemingly afraid of what they wish,
They fly but to delude—

MYRTÆUS.
She sighs and talks
Of love and Menes, in such mournful strain,
As fills each eye with sympathetic tears.
She will not hear of comfort. Time, perhaps,
And gentle means, may sooth her mind to peace,
But force might now be fatal.

AMASIS.
Fear not that.
Inform the princess we attend her presence.

MYRTÆUS.
Too well she knows it.—
[Exit Myrtæus.

ORUS.
(descending from the altar.)
Sovereign of the Nile!
Let not my words offend—The gods forbid
The solemn rites. Whilst, in my hand, I held
The victim's heart it burst, and on the ground
Dissolv'd away!

AMASIS.
Then let another bleed!

ORUS.
Dare I advise, the nuptials were delay'd
Till some propitious idle hour of peace:
For whilst the Ethopian in his wrath
Threatens invasion, fame and glory call
For deeds of arms: and dost thou yield to love?

AMASIS.
Presumptious priest! thy sanctity, thy age,
And all those mystic symbols of thy god,
Shall not protect thee:—speak the omens fair!

ORUS.
O King! 'tis not for mortals to belie
The sacred will of heaven. The earth itself
Teems with uncommon births. The tombs appear
Deserted by their dead. The air is fill'd
With sounds; the streets with unsubstantial forms.
Great Ammon's helmet nods upon his brow,
Whilst he declares ambiguous oracles,
And frowns on Egypt.

AMASIS.
Let him shroud the sun
In tenfold darkness, shake the solid earth,
Subvert the broad-bas'd pyramids; disclose
The oozy bottom of the frighted Nile,
My purpose stands unmov'd. Then hence, away:
Let my commands be oracles to thee;
And Ammon may be silent.

[Exit Orus.
Enter SETHONA and MYRTÆUS.
AMASIS.
How long, Sethona, wilt thou arm those eyes
With cold disdain against me? Thus how long,
At awful distance, must I breathe my vows
Of love and constancy? The hour is come,
The nuptial feast prepar'd, and yet thou shun'st
My longing arms, as if contagion sprung
From every touch.

SETHONA.
My looks have not deceiv'd!
My soul detests thy person and thy name.
Hast thou not been the scourge of all my race?
The bane of all my joys? and can'st thou hope
Returns of love for unexampl'd wrongs?

AMASIS.
Forgive the past. The gods themselves forgive—
I have been much to blame. But if sincere
Repentance—If the pangs of keen remorse
Could e're attone for guilt, I stand absolv'd
And hope for thy forgiveness.—Hope for more,
Thy love—For which alone I risqu'd my life,
And dar'd perdition!

SETHONA.
Ha! it is a crime
To listen to thy words.—I'll hear no more.—
My love is not for thee. The guilty thought
Wou'd shake this sacred temple, and profane
The presence of the gods.—The shades of night,
The midnight hour of silence, the dark tomb
Of Seraphis my father, the long line
Of ancestry, that darkly rest in death
Within the sacred pyramids; on these
My melancholly soul delights to dwell:
There let me wander and indulge my woes.

AMASIS.
Can unavailing sorrow sooth the dead?
Deep are their slumbers, deaf their ear to woe!
Or did their spirits hover round—can joy
Arise from our distress? Can those they lov'd
Afford them pleasure by incessant tears?
Then weep no more!—Mount thou thy father's throne!
Egypt shall yield her sceptre to thy hand,
And Africk's nations bend beneath thy sway.

SETHONA.
Could'st thou enthrone me, 'midst the stars of heav'n,
And say, the world that rolls beneath thy feet,
And all these splendid orbs around, are thine,
I would reject them, as the price of guilt,
Though press'd with all the miseries of life.

AMASIS.
Enough of argument! Know then this hour
Shall make thee mine; shall bend thee to my arms;
Shall change these haughty frowns, and vain complaints,
To gentle smiles and murmurings of love.

SETHONA.
Then know my soul, amidst my ruin'd state,
Maintains the dignity of Egypt's kings,
Looks down upon thee.—Threats to me are vain.
My soul contemns them all!

AMASIS.
By Egypt's gods,
Thou'rt sovereign of my heart! the full extent
Of all my wishes!—High, in regal state,
Thou shalt command the nations. Princes, kings,
The Nile, the ocean, to thy feet shall bring
Their yearly tribute. Still my soul shall dwell
On thy perfections. Love shall crown our days
With joy, with transport—

(seizing her.
SETHONA.
Spare me, Amasis!
I beg not for my life. I wish to die:
But if my tears, my prayers can move thy heart,
O let my wearied soul forsake the world,
In all its native innocence.

AMASIS.
Arise,
Arise, Sethona! Dost thou think my love
A spark, to be extinguish'd by a tear?
A flame, to be blown out with sobs and sighs?
A soft impression, melted by the breath
Of pity? No—And wouldst thou not despise
Such cold affection? Soon, within my arms,
Thy strange aversion shall be chang'd to love,
And thou shalt wonder at thy own perverseness.

SETHONA.
No—never! never!

AMASIS.
To the altar!

SETHONA.
Here—
Here let me perish—

AMASIS.
Thus I bear thee hence!

SETHONA.
Inhuman man! to-morrow—

AMASIS.
No—this hour—
This moment!

SETHONA.
Tyrant—I will not betray
My faith to Menes!

AMASIS.
Menes is no more!

SETHONA.
Then grant this hour to grief—

AMASIS.
Thou plead'st in vain;
In vain thou striv'st—away—

SETHONA.
(fainting.)
O Menes, Menes!

AMASIS.
Ha! whence this paleness? This is no deceit:
The blood retires. A transitory death
O'erwhelms her senses.—Bear her to our halls!

[Amasis and Attendants lead her out.]
Enter MENES suddenly, ORUS following.
ORUS.
Menes, forbear!

MENES.
It was Sethona's voice!

ORUS.
Rash youth! thy frenzy ruins all our hopes.

MENES.
As well thou might'st oppose the bolt of Jove,
Wing'd with his wrath. Away—lest in my rage
Thou too should'st perish.

ORUS.
Tread on my grey hairs,
I will not quit thee. Wherefore would'st thou rush
On certain death, and, in an evil hour,
Destroy the work of years, the fruit of all
Our expectations? Let not rage prevail—
A certain death, without revenge, attends
Thy rashness. Stay, this night, this very hour,
May crown thy hopes.

MENES.
This moment fills my soul
With mortal anguish. In a state like mine
It were a crime to listen to the voice
Of prudence.—Wherefore thus obstruct my course?
Since full revenge is my determin'd aim,
Trust to my conduct.

ORUS.
Whilst this storm of rage
Darkens thy reason, hence thou shalt not stir.
Dost thou despise my council?—Hast thou lost
All reverence for my friendship, for my age,
And sacred function? Is the life I saved
Unworthy of thy gratitude—thy care?—
Young man, this frenzy suits not with thy fame.
A nobler passion now demands thy sword:
Egypt, amidst her tears, looks up to thee,
Her only hope! Not Amasis alone
Must perish, Tyranny itself must fall.

MENES.
What noble purpose labours in thy mind?
I stand prepar'd. Orus, command my sword,
My life, my fame; but first let me behold
Sethona. In this moment of despair,
She may be lost for ever!

ORUS.
Danger lies
Between thee and thy wishes: Yet to calm
This tempest of thy soul, a faithful slave,
At my request, shall quickly guide thy steps
Through the deserted passage, form'd of old
By kings, who lov'd in secret to approach
The gods. But let not idle dreams of love
Ensnare thee by delay. With speed return
To hear, to execute a great design.

MENES.
Whate'er thy wisdom plans, is deem'd by me
The will of heav'n.

ORUS.
Too long thou tarry'st here.
This is no place of safety. Mœris soon
Shall lead thee to Sethona. In thy cell
A moment wait. By my command, the slave
Shall there attend thee.

MENES.
Nearest to the gods!
To thee I trust to save a dearer life
Than this which now I owe thee. To direct
My steps to glory, to revenge; to rouse
The warlike genius of our native land;
Arm'd with the wrath of heav'n to crush the pow'r
Of Amasis, and level in the dust
Those massy fabricks, which his pride has rais'd.
[Exit Menes.

ORUS
, alone.
O that this night were past! and Seraphis
Again established on his ancient throne!
'Till then, I must not tell this gallant youth,
His high descent; that he, as Sethos' son,
Is nephew to the king, and Egypt's heir.
His headlong fury breaks through my designs.
I must invent some scheme to check his rage,
And stop the progress of his ill-tim'd love,
'Till from his throne usurp'd the tyrant falls.
Why stays Otanes thus? Conspiracies,
Like thunder clouds, should, in a moment, form
And strike, like lightning, 'ere the sound is heard.