 | The Fair Circassian |  |
1
ACT I.
A BEAUTIFUL GARDEN IN THE ORIENTAL TASTE, WITH SEVERAL RICH PAVILIONS, AND A SIDE VIEW OF A MAGNIFICENT PALACE ADJOINING. THE ROYAL APARTMENTS OPEN INTO THE GARDEN THROUGH A SPLENDID PORTICO.SCENE I.
ALI, CALED.ALI.
Caled, behold once more our Persian court
From twice six moons of mourning for the king,
Great Solyman emerge, bright as yon sun,
From the surrounding shades of sable night—
That gorgeous palace re-assumes its lustre,
And these pavilions once more breathe around
The soul of eastern fragrance.
2
Ali, yes;
Hither advance from Asia's vassal shores,
Ambassadors, high fraught with luscious burthens,
Till Persia blooms in flattery: Late they came
With solemn homage to condole; and now,
Heaping their lavish incense on our shrines,
Congratulation wreathes the ready smile.
The scene is fair, my friend; but soon again
Shall each proud blossom of the realm be wither'd.
ALI.
Thou think'st that Solyman hath ill bequeath'd
The crown between his sons.
CALED.
Hath ill bequeath'd!
To bind the warring elements, to fix
In closest league th'extremes of frost and fire,
And every opposite in nature force
Into reluctant union.—Such, my friend,
Such is the will of Solyman.
ALI.
The king
Was scarce entomb'd, ere brooding jealousies
Broke forth.—Remember'st thou the hour
When Omar, with the lords of state around,
The will first gave to Almoran? Ye heavens!
How proud the triumph, while with subject zeal,
Unconscious of his fortune Hamet bow'd.
And, oh, what deep abasement follow'd swift
Upon the elder king as Omar drew
From the concealing robe another scroll,
That nam'd young Hamet partner of the throne!
CALED.
Preposterous distribution! thus to leave
A splendid source of endless discontent.
3
And this in spite of Omar's bearded wisdom.
CALED.
Omar the sage, to whom the seal of Solyman,
In royal confidence was still reveal'd.
Omar, who trims the lonely lamp of wisdom,
When half the lazy globe is wrapt in slumber.
Omar, the prince's guardian, master, oracle;
The proud philosopher, the seer profound;
That he should thus dispose the dotard's sceptre,
And get the start of men like thee, my Ali.
ALI.
Ali's holy function still protects him
Fom ev'ry rebel murmur of ambition.
CALED.
Ali, 'tis false—I know thy temper better.
Like some repining spirit here thou walk'st,
And yon thrice blessed orb hath witness'd oft,
Thy soul's deep sigh at Omar's better fortune.
Here dost thou dwindle in the train of courtiers,
At once deem'd inoffensive, unimportant,
A mitr'd slave of Hamet's royal household,
While Omar—
ALI.
Rules half the Persian empire;
Directs, proscribes, and governs uncontroul'd.
CALED.
Ali, meantime, with tame dominion, sways
A band of humble Imans, poor and prostrate;
Or bids the peasant tremble at the altar,
As superstition points the labour'd omen.
O vain pre-eminence of pageant priesthood,
Compar'd with seats sublime, that Ali's soul
Is yet, I trust the fates, decreed to fill.
4
Forbear, my friend—O Caled, tempt no more;
Wake not the fatal flame I long have smother'd:
Already have thy strong suggestions led
My feet astray—Ev'n now, against command
Of him I serve, of Hamet, and—
CALED.
Of Omar.
ALI.
Well then, of Omar—since it must be so,
Have I contriv'd that Almoran should view
That hidden treasure of the love-sick kin,
That fair Circassian—
CALED.
Thou hast, I own it—
There, there, my friend, springs up another cause
Of rivalry and vengeance.
ALI.
Vengeance!
CALED.
Away with counterfeitings, forc'd disguises—
I've read thy heart. Converse we then like men
That know each other's bias. Ali, my friend,
My reverend friend, we both are wrong'd and outrag'd:
Me, Hamet, by his minister, hath thrust
From that rich sun-shine where so long I bask'd
In the broad ray of Hamet's royal favour.
Thy state is tottering too—insulted priest!
Head of thy tribe no longer then the glance
Of Omar shall dismiss thee deep degraded—
Now, if no false concealments, wayward scruples—
ALI.
'Twere best confer apart—'tis near the hour
When the Circassian lady—
5
See she comes.
With speed retire—
ALI.
Should Hamet or should Omar—
CALED
(going.)
Short be their sway.—
ALI
(going.)
Much hast thou mov'd me, Caled.
CALED.
Much are we wrong'd.
ALI.
This way are we secure.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
ALMEIDA, CRISANTHE.ALMEIDA.
Yes, my Crisanthe, I confess it all,
Confess that I am happy: Still remembrance
Steals o'er my conscious heart her sweet ideas,
And in soft vision charms Almeida's bosom.
CRISANTHE.
And Hamet well deserves—
ALMEIDA.
Deserves, Crisanthe!
Not all the lavish luxury of praise
By Imans offer'd at the holy altars;
Not the rich tides of eloquence that roll
Upon the poet's tongue, by every muse,
And every god inspir'd, to grace the song,
Can pay just tribute to the soul of Hamet:
6
That pours the doubtful hint into the ear,
The dazzling sceptre, the effulgent robe,
Nor yet the vollied burst of public fame
Which stamps true splendor on the hearts of kings.
Array'd in ALL these trappings they may beat
Less fair, less friendly to the rights of man,
And fill a smaller space in nature's circle
Than the poor peasant toiling at the car,
Monarch of many a private, useful virtue,
Without the power, the dangerous power, to prove
A tyrant—o'er the rest of human kind.
CRISANTHE.
But ev'n th' untutor'd clown delighted talks
Of Hamet's princely virtues.
ALMEIDA.
Oh, he does!
Each hind may see the royal soul expand
Like some etherial light supplying fire,
That feeds unnumber'd stars with constant rays:
But, oh Crisanthe, never can he see
The soft enchantments of the tender heart,
Friendship's divine effusion, love's pure flame,
Each grace of life retired.—These shine alone
Like silent dews that shed their balms unheard;
Like planets deep in heaven, that bless unseen
The favour'd few that share the sacred hour.
CRISANTHE.
The sacred hour reserv'd for fair Almeida:
But say, my gentle friend—for still delay'd
The tale of wonder—heard but yet in part—
Did he not act like some superiour power
When he with vent'rous arm rush'd through the flames
To save thee from destruction?
7
Like a god,
My guardian god! Hear then, in full, the story.
Midnight had hung the silent air in black,
Not one bright star display'd it's beamy brow,
The wat'ry-bosom'd clouds were bent to earth,
When swift the desolating light'ning's flash
Spread the far-blazing ruin thro' the palace.
Sudden it struck my venerable sire:
In vain I press'd him in these filial arms—
He fell—In that tremendous moment
Came my deliverer, my king, my Hamet,
And rescu'd child and parent from the flames.
CRISANTHE.
Gracious Heaven!
ALMEIDA.
Soon as fled sense return'd,
I saw the gentle, generous, kneeling king
Bent in soft sorrows o'er his wretched charge;
And as the deep confusion ting'd my cheek
With tender force he strain'd me to his heart;
While good Abdallah, by his care protected,
From all the hurry of the court reposes;
And still unable as the veteran is
To view the sun, or move from his pale couch
He cheery laughs, thou know'st, the hours away,
Still Hamet or Almeida by his side.
CRISANTHE.
Behold the king—The royal lover comes.
ALMEIDA.
Ah, faithful fondness—leave us, gentle friend—
Yet stay, Crisanthe—Stay, attest his kindness.
8
SCENE III.
HAMET, ALMEIDA, CRISANTHE.HAMET.
Dear, heavenly maid—thou treasure of my soul,
How poor is language to the feeling heart?
Oh, let me thus supply the want of words,
Thus speak the transports of my wond'rous fondness.
ALMEIDA.
How shall Almeida mark her gratitude?
[Offering to kneel.
HAMET.
Almeida rise: Oh do not thus o'erpay
The common duties of a common man:
To help the wretched is the debt of nature;
A debt, which every honest mind shou'd pay
To all that wear the kindred forms of men.
ALMEIDA.
Oh Hamet—Oh my king—if rising blushes—
If these reveal not—the obedient subject—
HAMET.
Obedient subject! most unkind Almeida;
Rob not the great prerogative of virtue,
The generous bosom knows no vain superior;
And pitied be the wretch, or king, or subject
Who at proud distance holds the heart he loves.
ALMEIDA.
Thou hast subdu'd—I can conceal no more:
My humble station bade me long restrain
Affection for a prince, for Persia's king,
But now—
HAMET.
Yes now receive,
Now deign to share my love, my life, my throne.
9
Witness the triumphs of this throbbing heart,
As thus it owns Almeida for a queen.
And yet my brother—
ALMEIDA.
What of him, my lord?
HAMET.
Oh, I have doubts—
ALMEIDA.
Ha! doubts—have doubts my lord?
HAMET.
How shall I speak, Almeida, to thy softness?
How hope thy pardon for a tender fraud?
By some dire chance my brother knows our story,
And, as in jest, he tax'd me with concealment,
Desir'd to view a sister in Almeida.
ALMEIDA.
Where was the fault in this, or where the danger?
HAMET.
At this, a sudden sickness seiz'd my heart;
'Twas plain I lov'd—he pierc'd the thin disguise,
Enjoy'd my pain, and triumph'd in discovery.
ALMEIDA.
And what of that? Your feelings are too nice,
Too delicately fine to bear the shaft;
Which laughter ever levels at the lover,
Spirits less lively meet the mirth with smiles,
And wit's pert jest falls pointless to the ground.
HAMET.
How little dost thou know the soul of Almoran,
That even blazes at the view of beauty;
How wou'd he catch soft fury from this hand,
And drink large draughts of passion from those eyes?
And then—
10
What then, my lord?
Hast thou no credit in Almeida's faith?
Ungenerous prince! the heart that rules this bosom
Courts not the kingly crown, nor splendid sceptre.
Had'st thou been born the lowliest of the poor,
Still had I sought alliance with thy virtues,
Still had I scorn'd variety of lovers.
HAMET.
I know it all, dear maid; I know it all;
Yet, Almoran—
ALMEIDA.
Can Almoran forget
The ties of nature, or the bonds of honour,
The dear domestic duties of the brother,
The awful virtues of the public station,
The law which binds the monarch to the man?
Or if he could, and this ill-fated form
Should chance to touch him with a transient passion,
What would avail the momentary liking?
Soon would his power o'erlook an humble maid,
And gladly leave her to the partial Hamet.
Or at the worst—should he pursue Almeida,
Firm in the pure resolves of virtuous love
Ev'n I, the subject daughter of Abdallah,
Bold in her virgin truth, would own her fondness,
Assert the native freedom of the heart,
Clasp her lov'd lord, and thus avow her passion.
HAMET.
Oh, thou dear maid—once more receive my thanks;
[embracing.
Receive a willing heart that doats to death!
Forgive the delicate alarms of love:
I have no doubts—my sickly fears are past,
I tread in æther and I breathe in heaven!
I am—oh, all ye Powers—I am most blest.
11
My lord, behold—
[Seeing Almoran and Caled at a distance.
HAMET.
'Tis Almoran with Caled—haste my love
And shield thy beauties from his dangerous gaze,
In this pavilion—Soon he will be gone,
Ah! quick retire, and e'er to-morrow's dawn
I will prepare—by heav'n they're here—away.
[Hamet conducts Almeida into a pavilion.
SCENE IV.
ALMORAN, CALED.CALED.
Yonder, my lord, he steals.
ALMORAN.
But where the lady?
CALED.
Dread sire, I see her not.
ALMORAN.
Didst thou not leave him with her?
CALED.
Hypocrisy assist thy long tried favourite.
[aside.
I left him lost in one soft dream of passion,
Invoking every power fantastical
To register his vows—then would he kneel,
Her lovely hand embathe with sigh-sick tears,
And earnest press it to his glowing bosom;
While she—
ALMORAN.
Go on.
CALED.
Repuls'd his freedom
With a sweet resistance—and in soft coyness
Sported with refusal.
12
Spoke they of me,
Or ought suspects my brother I have seen her?
CALED
(looking.)
Methought, my lord, I saw in yon pavillion
A female robe that—yes, by heav'n 'tis she.
[going up.
Oh powers of heaven! behold, my lord, behold,
See where she walks—what majesty of mein?
[looking out.
What native beauties in her artless air?
Soft as the first fair breeze that fans the spring.
What glories beam even from her downcast eye!
While her disorder wales a new-born charm
As the bloom ripens on her rosy lips!
ALMORAN.
At every glance more lovely than before;
Ne'er did each feature flame so full to view,
Caled, by heav'n her eye shot suns, out-blaz'd
That symbol of the God to which we bow.
CALED.
Well may the happy Hamet wish to screen
The fair recluse from each obtrusive eye,
And hide her from an elder brother's gaze.
Ah! heav'n preserve the sultan of the world,
My sovereign labours with some secret sorrow;
Oh, that the slave could aught administer
To his imperial master!
ALMORAN.
Ha! imperial
Said'st thou Caled? that I were imperial;
[aside.
My pulses fever at the glorious thought.
Caled.
CALED.
My lord.
13
I will no more disguise—Caled—hither—
Yet nearer—lov'st thou thy sovereign master?
I know thou dost, I read it in thine eye,
I'll trust thee—thou shalt share a secret, Caled,
Denied to every vassal but thyself.
CALED.
Great ruler of the East whose boundless sway— [prostrates.
ALMORAN.
Rise and approach. Still closer and attend—
Thrice has the year renew'd the robes of spring,
Since from the circling crouds that guard the palace,
An undistinguish'd multitude of slaves,
Thee I mark'd out for favour, bade thee meet
The eye of Almoran without prostration,
And rank'd thee next to Osmyn.
CALED.
Next to Osmyn.
[aside.
ALMORAN.
In thy settled look
Firm and unaw'd, I saw the aspiring soul
That suited well the servant of a prince,
Soon to be more—At length my father died,
The throne I mounted—a divided throne.
CALED
(kneeling.)
Essence of light and life, assist my prayer;
Angel of death, quick moulder in the dust
The officious Omar's bold and busy hand,
Which brought the will of Solyman to light,
And thus curtail'd the rights of Almoran.
ALMORAN.
Since that most wretched, most disgraceful moment,
Mark its return my soul—Since that curst hour
No joy, no transport hath this bosom known;
Nor shall these watchful, waking eyes e'er close,
14
Till—
CALED.
Every bar to empire, love, and glory,
And each dire obstacle be swept away.
ALMORAN.
Thy sovereign's soul is on thy lip—but how?
How compass these great ends?
CALED.
Great ends require
Means well proportion'd, and such means
Are ever ready to the mind resolv'd.
Honest Ambition, in expedients fruitful,
Still crouds a thousand images at once
Upon the forming brain—the dart—the bowl,
The smiling banquet, and the midnight sabre.
ALMORAN.
My boundless hopes are rushing to a point.
Declare thy purpose—Caled speak direct.
CALED.
Direct then thus—My sover'ign wou'd be king,
Supreme, sole, undivided, fill the throne
Without a weak associate—be the fate
Of subject earth—The thought is great—and great
Must be the enterprize—nought less than—
ALMORAN.
What!
CALED.
Death.
ALMORAN.
Said'st thou?
CALED.
Murder.
ALMORAN.
Whose?
15
What need of names? but still to be direct,
The man that thwarts thee in the road to glory,
That stops thee midway in the bright career,
And intercepts thy radiance—
ALMORAN.
Ha! my brother!
Murder! my very heart turns from it. No,
One mother gave us being. We were twins.
The bloomy days of youth were pass'd together;
He ever lov'd me, made this breast his pillow,
And wept upon it all his little sorrows;
Long, long ere love or mad ambition
The rosy bonds of Nature broke and made
Us rivals—And shall I murder Hamet?
CALED.
Empire and love shall consecrate the deed,
But I have err'd, and will offend no more,
Hamet loves rule, and therefore shares the throne,
If Omar aids, perhaps shall more than share it.
Perhaps the wily sage—
ALMORAN.
Audacious traitor!
Think'st thou the feeble dotard e'er will dare—
CALED.
The snake, my lord, that twists around the feet,
With bold aspiring crest at length may tow'r
Ev'n to the seat of life.
ALMORAN.
First will I seize
With arm indignant its impoison'd throat,
Dash the fell viper instant to the earth,
And see it writhe its life out in the dust.
CALED.
The happy younger king too, runs before
16
The fair Circassian melts before he sighs;
Soon shall the Persian throne confess a queen;
Again the mangled crown shall know division,
And a fair third of empire yield to her,
To Hamet's beauteous wife, divine Almeida.
ALMORAN.
Hold, Caled, hold—shall Almoran then stoop
To see his rich inheritance thus torn,
Thus ravish'd, plunder'd by each bold usurper,
And made the prey of vassals, boys, and women!
Caled, dispatch—concert the great design—
Quick let's be gone—I sicken at delay;
Love, empire, and ambition, drive me on;
Methinks already I redeem the sceptre,
And o'er th'obedient world triumphant wave it.
The awful name of Almoran alone
Floats on the faithful gale—from shore to shore
The undiminish'd homage spreads around,
And my defrauded world's at length restor'd.
CALED.
Oh, glorious emulation—By yon heaven
I light ambition at my master's blaze!
The soul of Caled catches fire from his;
I rise, I tow'r to do some noble deed
That the imperial Almoran shall fix,
Secure, uncrouded on his rightful throne.
ALMORAN.
Then take a rich reward—thy king's embrace.
But oh, this languid pause! I pine, I die,
'Till from that boy's encircled brow I seize
My sullied diadem, and place it here.
Oh, how my soul exults in the idea;
Then shall I revel in Almeida's beauties;
Then each high bliss by turns shall know and prove
The fate and fortune of our Eastern world.
[Exeunt.
END OF ACT THE FIRST.
| The Fair Circassian | |