University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Idamè, Asseli.
Asseli.
How? is all lost? are all our hopes then fled?
And are you still a captive and a slave?
Alas! 'twere better not to have incens'd
This Conqueror. What could a feeble woman,
A helpless child, against such force and pow'r
In vain opposing weakness?

Idamè.
Now all's o'er.
I've done my duty, strove with vain attempt
To wrestle with my fate: It will not be.
I am again a slave, and doom'd to wear
The tyrant's chains.

Asseli.
Again the hapless Orphan
Becomes his prey, and dies as soon as born;
And Zamti must partake the Infant's fate.

Idamè.
The hour of both approaches: if their death
Is yet delay'd, 'tis only to prepare
More grievous torments for them. My dear son
Perhaps must follow them. The haughty victor
Call'd me before him, to increase my woes.
His very looks shot terror and dismay:
Full oft he rais'd his arm, all red with blood,
Against the Orphan, and my hapless son.
I all in tears fell prostrate at his feet,
And lay 'tween him and th'objects of his rage:
But he with roughness threw me from before him,
And with dire threats and angry looks departed,
Then soon again return'd still more enrag'd:
Now cried for vengeance, now delay'd his purpose,
While round him stood a train of savage warriors,
Who seem'd to ask his orders for my death.

Asseli.
Gengis would never give such horrid orders:
Your husband, whom he hates, still lives; the Orphan
To th'hand of slaughter is not yet resign'd.
Ask but for pardon, all will be forgiven.

Idamè.
No, all his furious love is turn'd to rage.
Oh! had you seen him double my distress,
Swear his fixt hate, and mock me in my tears!—

Asseli.
This rage, a word, a tear from you abates.
This conquer'd lion, that roars thus in his chain,
Did he not love, would never threaten hate.

Idamè.
Or love or hate, 'tis time to end that life
Which without horror I cannot preserve.

Asseli.
Ah! what do you resolve?

Idamè.
When angry Heav'n
Has fill'd the measure of our miseries,
It oft supports us in the blackest grief,
And gives us courage equal to our woes.
Amid the horrors of the present hour
I feel my soul with unknown strength dilate;
I fear no more this conqu'ror of mankind;
But on myself alone my fate depends.

Asseli.
But then this son, this object of your fears,
Will you abandon him?

Idamè.
Ah! there you touch
My tenderest part, you pierce me to the soul.
O horrid sacrifice! does ought remain
That can be done to save him from destruction?
Perhaps the tyrant, proud in his success,
By Kings encircled humbled to the dust,
Amid the crowd of wretches in his train,
Will not reflect on my unhappy child:
Or see perhaps with aspect less severe
The guiltless child, whose mother once he lov'd.
In that one hope I rest; the soothing thought
Flatters my soul in death. If me he lov'd,
He will not hate my ashes; when I'm dead,
He'll not pursue my son.