 | The Fair Circassian |  |
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.
| The Fair Circassian | |