 | The Orphan of China |  |
73
ACT V.
Enter Octar; Zamti and Mandane, following him.ZAMTI.
Why dost thou lead us to this hated mansion?
Must we again behold the tyrant's frown?
Thou know'st our hearts are fix'd.—
OCTAR.
The war of words
We scorn again to wage—hither ye come
Beneath a monarch's eye to meet your doom.
The rack is now preparing—Timurkan
Shall soon behold your pangs, and count each groan
Ev'n to the fullest luxury of vengeance.
Guard well that passage (to the guards within)
, see these traitors find
No means of flight; while to the conqueror
I hasten, to receive his last commands.
[Exit Octar, on the opposite side.
Zamti and Mandane.
ZAMTI.
Thou ever faithful creature—
MANDANE.
Can'st thou, Zamti,
Still call me faithful?—by that honour'd name
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Hath overwhelm'd us all?—
ZAMTI.
Thou art my wife,
Whose matchless excellence, ev'n in bondage,
Hath chear'd my soul; but now thy ev'ry charm,
By virtue waken'd, kindled by distress
To higher lustre, all my passions beat
Unutterable gratitude and love.
And must—oh! cruel!—must I see the bleed?—
MANDANE.
For me death wears no terror on his brow—
Full twenty years hath this resounding breast
Been smote with these sad hands; these haggard eyes
Have seen my country's fall; my dearest husband,
My son,—my king,—all in the Tartar's hands:
What then remains for me?—Death,—only death.
ZAMTI.
Ah! can thy tenderness endure the pangs
Inventive cruelty ev'n now designs?—
Must this fair form—this soft perfection bleed?
Thy decent limbs be strain'd with cruel cords,
To glut a ruffian's rage?—
MANDANE.
Alas! this frame,
This feeble texture never can sustain it.
But this—this I can bear—
Shows a dagger.
ZAMTI.
Ha!
MANDANE.
Yes!—this dagger!—
Do thou but lodge it in this faithful breast;
My heart shall spring to meet thee.—
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Oh!
MANDANE.
Do thou,
My honour'd lord, who taught'st me ev'ry virtue,
Afford this friendly, this last human office,
And teach me now to die.—
ZAMTI.
Oh! never—never—
Hence let me bear this fatal instrument—
Takes the dagger.
What, to usurp the dread prerogative
Of life and death, and measure out the thread
Of our own beings!—'Tis the coward's act,
Who dares not to encounter pain and peril—
Be that the practice of th'untutor'd savage;—
Be it the practice of the gloomy north.—
MANDANE.
Must we then wait a haughty tyrant's nod,
The vassals of his will?—no—let us rather
Nobly break thro' the barriers of this life,
And join the beings of some other world,
Who'll throng around our greatly daring souls,
And view the deed with wonder and applause.—
ZAMTI.
Distress too exquisite!—ye holy pow'rs,
If aught below can supersede your law,
And plead for wretches, who dare, self-impell'd,
Rush to your awful presence;—oh!—it is not
When the distemper'd passions rage; when pride
Is stung to madness; when ambition falls
From his high scaffolding;—oh! no—if aught
Can justify the blow, it is when virtue
Has nothing left to do;—when liberty
No more can breathe at large;—'tis with the groans
Of our dear country when we dare to die.
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Then here at once direct the friendly steel.
ZAMTI.
One last adieu!—now!—ah! does this become
Thy husband's love?—thus with uplifted blade
Can I approach that bosom-bliss, where oft
With other looks than these—oh! my Mandane—
I've hush'd my cares within thy shelt'ring arms?—
MANDANE.
Alas! the loves that hover'd o'er our pillows
Have spread their pinions, never to return,
And the pale fates surround us—
Then lay me down in honourable rest;
Come, as thou art, all hero, to my arms,
And free a virtuous wife—
ZAMTI.
It must be so—
Now then prepare thee—my arm flags and droops
Conscious of thee in ev'ry trembling nerve.
Dashes down the dagger.
By heav'n once more I would not raise the point
Against that hoard of sweets, for endless years
Of universal empire.
MANDANE.
Ha! the fell ministers of wrath—and yet
They shall not long insult us in our woes.
Myself will still preserve the means of death.
Takes up the dagger.
Enter Timurkan and Octar.
TIMURKAN.
Now then, detested pair, your hour is come—
Drag forth these slaves to instant death and torment.
I hate this dull delay; I burn to see them
Gasping in death, and weltr'ing in their gore.
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Zamti, support my steps—with thee to die
Is all the boon Mandane now would crave.
[Exeunt.
Timurkan and Octar.
TIMURKAN.
Those rash, presumptuous boys, are they brought forth?
OCTAR.
Mirvan will lead the victims to their fate.
TIMURKAN.
And yet what boots their death?—the Orphan lives,
And in this breast fell horror and remorse
Must be the dire inhabitants.—Octar, still
These midnight visions shake my inmost soul.—
OCTAR.
And shall the shad'wings of a feverish brain
Disturb a conqu'ror's breast?—
TIMURKAN.
Octar, they've made
Such desolation here—'tis drear and horrible!—
On yonder couch, soon as sleep clos'd my eyes,
All that yon mad enthusiastic priest
In mystic rage denounc'd, rose to my view;
And ever and anon a livid flash,
From conscience shot, shew'd to my aching sight
The colours of my guilt—
Billows of blood were round me; and the ghosts,
The ghosts of heroes, by my rage destroy'd,
Came with their ghastly orbs, and streaming wounds;
They stalk'd around my bed;—with loud acclaim
They call'd Zaphimri! 'midst the lightning's blaze
Heav'n roll'd consenting thunders o'er my head;
Strait from his covert the youth sprung upon me,
And shook his gleaming steel—he hurl'd me down,
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Oh! this dire whirl of thought—my brain's on fire—
OCTAR.
Compose this wild disorder of thy soul.
Your foes this moment die.—
Enter Mirvan.
TIMURKAN.
What would'st thou, Mirvan?
MIRVAN.
Near to the eastern gate, a slave reports,
As on his watch he stood, a gleam of arms
Cast a dim lustre thro' the night; and strait
The steps of men thick sounded in his ear;
In close array they march'd.
TIMURKAN.
Some lurking treason!—
What, ho! my arms—ourself will sally forth.—
MIRVAN.
My liege, their scanty and rash-levied crew
Want not a monarch's sword—the valiant Octar,
Join'd by yon faithful guard, will soon chastise them.
TIMURKAN.
Then be it so—Octar, draw off the guard,
And bring their leaders bound in chains before me.
[Exit Octar.
Timurkan and Mirvan.
MIRVAN.
With sure conviction we have further learn'd
The long-contended truth—Etan's their king—
The traitor Zamti counted but one son;
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That should it e'er be known the prince surviv'd,
The boy might baffle justice.—
TIMURKAN.
Ha! this moment
Ourself will see him fall.—
MIRVAN.
Better, my liege,
At this dead hour you sought repose—mean time
Justice on him shall hold her course.—Your foes
Else might still urge that you delight in blood.
The semblance of humanity will throw
A veil upon ambition's deeds—'tis thus
That mighty conqu'rors thrive;—and even vice,
When it would prosper, borrows virtue's mien.
TIMURKAN.
Mirvan, thou counsel'st right: beneath a shew
Of public weal we lay the nations waste.
And yet these eyes shall never know repose,
Till they behold Zaphimri perish. Mirvan,
Attend me forth.
MIRVAN.
Forgive, my sov'reign liege,
Forgive my over-forward zeal—I knew
It was not fitting he should breathe a moment:
The truth once known, I rush'd upon the victim,
And with this sabre cleft him to the ground.
TIMURKAN.
Thanks to great Lama!—treason is no more,
And their boy king is dead,—Mirvan, do thou
This very night bring me the stripling's head.
Soon as the dawn shall purple yonder east,
Aloft in air all China shall behold it,
Parch'd by the sun, and welt'ring to the wind:
Haste, Mirvan, haste, and sate my fondest wish.
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This hour approves my loyalty and truth:
[Exit.
TIMURKAN.
Their deep-laid plot hath miss'd its aim, and Timurkan
May reign secure—no longer horrid dreams
Shall hover round my couch—the prostrate world
Henceforth shall learn to own my sov'reign sway.
Enter Mirvan
TIMURKAN.
Well, Mirvan, hast thou brought the wish'd-for pledge?
MIRVAN.
My liege, I fear 'twill strike thy soul with horror?
TIMURKAN.
By heav'n the sight will glad my longing eyes.
Oh! give it to me.—
Enter Zaphimri (a sabre in his hand) and plants himself before the tyrant.
TIMURKAN.
Ha! then all is lost.
ZAPHIMRI.
Now, bloody Tartar, now then know Zaphimri.
TIMURKAN.
Accursed treason!—to behold thee thus
Alive before me, blasts my aching eye-balls:
My blood forgets to move—each pow'r dies in me—
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Well may'st thou tremble, well may guilt like thine
Shrink back appall'd;—for now avenging heav'n
In me sends forth its minister of wrath,
To deal destruction on thee.—
TIMURKAN.
Treach'rous slave!
'Tis false!—with coward-art, a base assassin,
A midnight ruffian on my peaceful hour
Secure thou com'st, thus to assault a warrior,
Thy heart could never dare to meet in arms.
ZAPHIMRI.
Not meet thee, Tartar!—Ha!—in me thou see'st
One on whose head unnumber'd wrongs thou'st heap'd—
Else could I scorn thee, thus defenceless.—Yes,
By all my great revenge, could bid thee try each shape,
Assume each horrid form, come forth array'd
In all the terrors of destructive guilt;—
But now a dear, a murder'd father calls;
He lifts my arm to rivet thee to earth,
Th'avenger of mankind.
MIRVAN.
Fall on, my prince.
TIMURKAN.
By heav'n, I'll dare thee still; resign it, slave,
Resign thy blade to nobler hands.
Snatches Mirvan's sabre.
MIRVAN.
O! horror
What ho! bring help.—Let not the fate of China
Hang on the issue of a doubtful combat.
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Come on, presumptuous boy.
ZAPHIMRI.
Inhuman regicide!
Now, lawless ravager, Zaphimri comes
To wreak his vengeance on thee.
[Exeunt fighting.
MIRVAN,
solus.
Oh! nerve his arm, ye pow'rs, and guide each blow.
To him, enter HAMET.
MIRVAN.
See there!—behold—he darts upon his prey.—
ZAPHIMRI,
within.
Die, bloodhound, die—
TIMURKAN,
within.
May curses blast my arm
That fail'd so soon.—
HAMET.
The Tartar drops his point.—
Zaphimri now—
ZAPHIMRI,
within.
Mercy was never thine—This, fell destroyer,
This, for a nation's groans.—
MIRVAN.
The monster dies;—
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To Zamti and Mandane with the tidings,
And call them back to liberty and joy.
[Exit Mirvan.
Hamet remains; to him Zaphimri.
ZAPHIMRI.
Now, Hamet, now oppression is no more:
This smoaking blade hath drunk the tyrant's blood.
HAMET.
China again is free;—there lies the corse
That breath'd destruction to the world.
ZAPHIMRI.
Yes, there,
Tyrannic guilt, behold thy fatal end,
The wages of thy sins.—
Enter Morat.
MORAT.
Where is the king?
Revenge now stalks abroad.—Our valiant leaders,
True to the destin'd hour, at once broke forth
From ev'ry quarter on th'astonish'd foe;
Octar is fall'n;—all cover'd o'er with wounds
He met his fate; and still the slaught'ring sword
Invades the city, sunk in sleep and wine.
ZAPHIMRI.
Lo! Timurkan lies levell'd with the dust!
Send forth, and let Orasming strait proclaim
Zaphimri king;—my subjects rights restor'd.
[Exit Morat.
Now, where is Zamti? where Mandane?—ha!—
What means that look of wan despair?
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Oh! dire mischance!
While here I trembled for the great event,
The unrelenting slaves, whose trade is death,
Began their work.—Nor piety, nor age,
Could touch their felon-hearts—they seiz'd on Zamti,
And bound him on the wheel—all frantic at the sight,
Mandane plung'd a poniard in her heart,
And at her husband's feet expir'd.—
HAMET.
Oh! heav'ns!
My mother!—
ZAPHIMRI.
Fatal rashness!—Mirvan, say,
Is Zamti too destroy'd?—
MIRVAN.
Smiling in pangs,
We found the good, the venerable man:
Releas'd from anguish, with what strength remain'd,
He reach'd the couch, where lost Mandane lay;
There threw his mangled limbs;—there, clinging to the body,
Prints thousand kisses on her clay-cold lips,
And pours his sad lamentings, in a strain
Might call each pitying angel from the sky,
To sympathize with human woe.—
The great folding doors open in the back scene.
ZAPHIMRI.
And see,
See on that mournful bier he clasps her still;
Still hangs upon each faded feature; still
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Heart-piercing sight!—
HAMET.
Oh! agonizing scene!
The corpse is brought forward, Zamti lying on on the couch, and clasping the dead body.
ZAMTI.
Ah! stay, Mandane, stay,—yet once again
Let me behold the day-light of thy eyes—
Gone, gone, for ever, ever gone—those orbs
That ever gently beam'd, must dawn no more.
ZAPHIMRI.
Are these our triumphs?—these our promis'd joys?
ZAMTI.
The music of that voice recalls my soul.
[Rises from the body, and runs eagerly to embrace Zaphimri; his strength fails him, and he faints at his feet.
My prince! my king!
ZAPHIMRI.
Soft, raise him from the ground.
ZAMTI.
Zaphimri!—Hamet too!—oh! bless'd event!
I could not hope such tidings—thee, my prince,
Thee too, my son—I thought ye both destroy'd.
My slow remains of life cannot endure
These strong vicissitudes of grief and joy.
And there—oh! heav'n!—see there, there lies Mandane!
HAMET.
How fares it now, my father?
ZAMTI.
Lead me to her—
Is that the ever dear, the faithful woman?
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Thus do I see thee then, Mandane?—cold,
Alas! death-cold—
Cold is that breast, where virtue from above
Made its delighted sojourn, and those lips
That utter'd heav'nly truth,—pale! pale!—dead, dead!
Sinks on the body.
Pray ye entomb me with her?—
ZAPHIMRI.
Then take, ye pow'rs, then take your conquests back;
Zaphimri never can survive—
ZAMTI,
raising himself.
I charge thee live;—
A base desertion of the public weal
Will ill become a king—alas! my son,—
(By that dear tender name if once again
Zamti may call thee)—tears will have their way—
Forgive this flood of tenderness—my heart
Melts even now—thou noble youth—this is
The only interview we e'er shall have.—
ZAPHIMRI.
And will ye then, inexorable pow'rs,
Will ye then tear him from my aching heart?—
ZAMTI.
The moral duties of the private man
Are grafted in thy soul—oh! still remember
The mean immutable of happiness,
Or in the vale of life, or on a throne,
Is virtue—each bad action of a king
Extends beyond his life, and acts again
Its tyranny o'er ages yet unborn.
To error mild, severe to guilt, protect
The helpless innocent; and learn to feel
The best delight of serving human kind.
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And live the father of a willing people.
HAMET.
My father!—see—ah! see!—he dies—his lips
Tremble in agony—his eye-balls glare—
A death-like paleness spreads o'er all his face.
ZAPHIMRI.
Is there no help to save so dear a life?
ZAMTI.
It is too late—I die—alas! I die—
Life harrass'd out, pursu'd with barb'rous art
Thro' evry trembling joint—now fails at once—
Zaphimri—oh! farewell!—I shall not see
The glories of thy reign—Hamet!—my son—
Thou good young man, farewell—Mandane, yes,
My soul with pleasure takes her flight, that thus
Faithful in death, I leave these cold remains
Near thy dear honour'd clay.—
Dies.
ZAPHIMRI.
And art thou gone,
Thou best of men?—then must Zaphimri pine
In ever-during grief, since thou art lost;
Since that firm patriot, whose parental care
Should raise, should guide, should animate my virtues,
Lies there a breathless corse.—
HAMET.
My liege, forbear,—
Live for your people; madness and despair
Belong to woes like mine.—
ZAPHIMRI.
Thy woes, indeed,
Are deep, thou pious youth—yes, I will live,
To soften thy afflictions; to assuage
A nation's grief, when such a pair expires.
Come to my heart:—in thee another Zamti
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My people with the sound of peace; that done,
To these a grateful monument shall rise,
With all sepulchral honour—frequent there
We'll offer incense;—there each weeping muse
Shall grave the tributary verse;—with tears
Embalm their memories; and teach mankind,
Howe'er Oppression stalk the groaning earth;
Yet heav'n, in its own hour, can bring relief;
Can blast the tyrant in his guilty pride,
And prove the Orphan's guardian to the last.
FINIS.
| The Orphan of China | |