University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A VIEW OF THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS OF PERSIA, CUT OUT OF THE ROCKS, AND A PROSPECT OF A VENERABLE MOSQUE. THE WHOLE AWFULLY MAGNIFICENT.
HAMET, OMAR.
HAMET.
Thou good old man—Thou full of days and honour,
Guide of my youth, and glory of my crown,
My bosom labours with a friend's impatience
As now I lead thee to these sacred seats—
These awful sepulchres, where Persia's kings,
My ancestors, repose in solemn silence—
Oh, my heart throbs till I have told thee all.

OMAR.
My prince, my child! I praise thy tender zeal,
And though oppressive time upon this head
Hath heavy snow'd full many a winters whiteness,
Yet once this heart—the memory still is dear—
Felt a fond passion, pure and warm as thine.
To all that rateth high a virgin's worth,
Sense, beauty, soul, long since was Omar wed.

HAMET.
If thou hast lov'd, with unfatigued ear,
Thou wilt allow the sweet prolixity,
Love's soft delay, and tender repetition.
“But, oh! by what sad stroke of cruel fortune
“Fell from thy reverend arms this dearest treasure?”

OMAR.
“Full forty years Olmana to this bosom
“Minister'd every balm of virtuous softness.
“Passion from reason caught the wish compos'd,
“The hope obedient, and the steady purpose,
“A life devote to nature and to Heaven.
“At length it pleas'd the gods to take her from me,
“And pluck this pillow from my aged head;
“Her death was sudden, but her life prepar'd.
“In my first widow'd days I felt as man;
“At length her sacred spirit seem'd to chide,
“And whisper'd that it only went before
“To intercede the Merciful for mine.
“I left her with the gods, and wept no more.”
But come, what says Almeida?

HAMET.
How her name
Like sudden sun-beams darting thro' a cloud,
Lights up an instant joy in Hamet's bosom.
Oh, had'st thou seen her all dissolv'd in passion—
Passion, tho' yielding, modestly chastis'd,
“And shaded by a delicate reserve,
“Only to look more lovely thro' the veil”—
Had'st thou but seen her, eloquently dumb,
Sink in her father's arms, confess her softness
In all the sweet disorders of the heart,
Then blush, and sigh, and even weep for words!—

OMAR.
When does Abdallah's daughter then consent.—

HAMET.
Hear it, ye favouring heav'ns, and every breeze,
Bear on your viewless wings the tender tidings,
I shall to-morrow claim—

OMAR.
To-morrow!
Knows royal Almoran this sudden purpose?

HAMET.
Ah Omar thou hast sprinkled drops of ice
Cold on my heart, to freeze the flame of love.
Not all the jealous vigilance of fondness;
Not the still waking eyes of faithful Ali
Can foil the felon arts of wily Caled.
Almoran again hath seen her, friend—and much,
Still much I fear lest—

OMAR.
Oh, forbear;
Wear not a doubtful eye upon a brother,
Nor let suspicion sear thy generous heart.

HAMET.
Heaven knows my fondness; knows the generous love,
“Respect sincere, and tenderness I bear him,
“And the soft shade I cast o'er all his failings;”
Dear is my brother to this faithful heart,
As the warm tide that constant flows to feed it.

OMAR.
The sainted Solyman thou know'st decreed,
That ye should wear his yet unblemish'd crown
In amity together, wield his sceptre
As brothers and as friends.—Unite to bless,
By a well-order'd government, the land;
The smiling arts of peace diffuse around,
Or give—where patriot virtue points the cause
To be the cause of heav'n—fresh nerves to war;
O'er the wide wave to spread the advent'rous sail,
Lift modest genius from the lowly vale,
And bid it blossom in a warmer soil,
More near its native skies.—

HAMET.
Dear, parent sage,
Deep are thy counsels 'grav'd upon this heart.

OMAR.
Yet spare a moment to the voice of truth,
Even from the hour of panting softness spare it.
Oh ne'er forget, thou noble youth, 'tis thine
To taste with Almoran the bliss supreme
That flows from all the great, the glorious virtues,
Worthy of kings, on kings alone conferr'd;
Pity that softens justice; merit, guarded
From bolder arrogance, e'en by the shield,
The temper'd shield of royalty itself.
“Blessings deriv'd from blessings well bestow'd,
“Delights like these—oh, may they long be thine,
“Grow greater by division.” Yet remember
If e'er thou'rt tempted—which the gods forbid—
Should'st thou, as faction or as favour urges;
Should private passions, or domestick broils,
Frauds of the state, or follies of the palace,
A mistress or a minister, e'er lead
Thine eye, thy hand, thy heart from what thou ow'st,
From what the laws, the land, the people claim—
Claim as a duty from the prince they serve,
Not Persia's utmost pomp combin'd to soothe thee,
“Not all the graces of the lov'd Almeida,
“Nor yet the princely pledges of her faith
“Climbing thy knee and blooming round thy board,
“Not ev'n the husband's pride, the father's transport,”
Can snatch thee from the shame reserv'd for him,
Who, base and lawless, wantons with his power,
“Covers with blood his violated country,
“To an ensanguin'd sabre turns his sceptre,
And more than traitor desolates the empire.

HAMET.
Oh, never, never may this breast, which throbs
With all a patriot's, all a parent's ardour,
To serve the weal of Persia, feel a curse
So charg'd with anguish, or so full of horrour!
With my lov'd subjects teach me, gods, to share
The plenteous glories of this fertile land,
While royal Almoran partakes the joy,
And late posterity attests our virtue!
Now, then, my friend, I must require thy aid.

OMAR.
What would my gracious prince?

HAMET.
Engage
His second father in an instant office
Of tender import—This letter—take it Omar.
Why trembles thus my foolish hand to give it?
'Tis to my brother, and contains—oh heav'ns!

OMAR.
“The tidings of to-morrow. This perchance—
“'Tis dangerous; [aside]
soft—is there no other way?

HAMET.
“Why pauses Omar?
“Why deeply bent to earth his thoughtful eye?

OMAR.
“Thy love hath spoke, I doubt not, brotherly.

HAMET.
“Omar, my heart was in it. Take it then,
“O take it, friend! There, in that little space
Are all my future hopes and fears inscribed;
It is the history of a brother's love,
Writ to a brother's friendship—Yes, my Omar,
This is the hour which Almoran devotes
To private kindness, and unburthen'd freedom:
Upon his sacred moments thou hast claim;
And who so fit as thee to grace a message
Where Hamet's happiness so closes, centres?

OMAR.
Dear to this feeble bosom are ye both;
I honour, love, respect—do all but fear you.
The man we dread was never truly lov'd.

HAMET.
Delay no longer then—oh think a little,
Something allow to ardent love's impatience;
No rest shall Hamet know till thy return,
But trembling, anxious, wait thy coming, Omar.—
In the bless'd grove that shades Almeida's chamber,
There will I kneel, there awful bend to heaven,
That all our wishes may be crown'd in peace.

[Exit HAMET.
OMAR
alone.
I would not check his joys too far; and yet
Too plain, alas, these aged eyes can see
A train of mischiefs gathering round our heads.
This letter notes the hour, when to the mosque
Hamet conducts his Fair Circassian bride.
Ye mighty Powers, who rule the royal soul,
And touch the master chords that sway our nature,
Let kindred kindness save my kings from discord,
Preserve the publick welfare, private quiet;
And these old eyes shall pour their thanks in tears.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

A MAGNIFICENT APARTMENT IN THE PALACE.
ALMORAN, OSMYN.
ALMORAN.
Osmyn, thy conduct hath been ever humble,
Wary, and watchful. Now the time is ripe
To note thy subject services more amply;
Caled, thou know'st, is our obedient slave,
Thy present post of honour shall be his,
And thou to larger dignities arise;
'Tis Almoran that lifts thee from the dust.

OSMYN.
Dread king, and father of the eastern world,
Thy sacred purpose ever in my view
Bounds all the hopes of thy observant Osmyn.

ALMORAN.
[aside.
This is another Caled at the core;
Long have I marked his hypocritick look,
Disguising falsehood in the fraudful smile:
'Twere not amiss to make the slave secure.
Osmyn.—

OSMYN.
Yonder, my lord, with sober step
Old Omar, that sage pillar of the state,
Comes slowly onward—venerably sweet
His reverend aspect.—

ALMORAN
(pausing).
Haply that were well.
Osmyn!

OSMYN.
Imperial sultan.

[bows.
ALMORAN.
The important office of a minister
Might suit thy vigorous years and mind mature,
That feeble pillar soon must fall. Of this
Anon.—Ere night her sable wing shall spread
O'er day's fair bosom, see that thou attend,
Just where the clust'ring citrons form a shade
Near to our chief seraglio, there I'll meet thee.
Go. Thou wilt remember and obey.
[Exit Osmyn.
I wou'd not rashly lose a sabre, when
Haply, I may want to try its temper.
[aside.
My curses on this dotard. Caled, now
Shall Almoran take heed t' observe thy counsel;
A smile—Yes, smiles are well till all be sure;
And yet my soul disdains the narrow art
Of seeming that I am not. But he comes;
Take me hypocrisy, awhile I'm thine.
Enter OMAR (offers to kneel.)
Thou shalt not bend. The venerable knee
Grown feeble in the service of the state
Should only bow to heaven. Thy silver locks,
Those sacred signals of the experienc'd mind,
Command the reverence of the kings they honour;
Ev'n Almoran respects them. O the falsehood,
[aside.
Shame on my abject tongue for thus dissembling.

OMAR.
My fears were surely wrong. [aside]
O gracious king,
This old fond bosom feels a father's joy
Thus to be welcom'd by the prince he loves.
Ev'n in the tenderest hours of earliest life,
Thy mother sent her little pride to Omar,
And ere thy tongue began to lisp its purpose,
The name of Omar first employ'd its efforts;
Then, as a presage of thy future friendship—
Oh! be it heav'n prophetic—thou didst throw
Thy infant arms around my neck—there clung'st
As if thou lov'dst the soft repose I gave thee;
My bosom throbb'd as if thou wert mine own;
Upon this breast sweet sleep did visit thee;
It was thy cradle, and thou oft hast blest it.

ALMORAN.
Thou worthy sage! Nor in maturer manhood,
Lord as I am of half the subject world,
Am I less tender of the faithful Omar,
The sense, the soul of Persia's blooming empire.

OMAR.
The mighty Solyman, as sick he lay,
Upon his last, last bed, bequeath'd you to me,
Gave Almoran and Hamet to my care;
He press'd me as I promis'd, smil'd, and died:
And far, dear youth, beyond the glowing gold
Which grows beneath the wealthy breast of earth,
I prize the royal legacy—O sire
Forgive me—I am old, and age is tedious;
But 'tis the heart offends, and thou wilt pardon.

ALMORAN
(aside)
Again he teaches me to be sincere;
Nature's all-conquering language from his lip
Flows on the heart with meek serenity;
He cannot be ambitious—Caled wrongs him.
What welcome message of fraternal love
[advancing.
Brings Omar from his Hamet—Ha! a letter.
May its contents be happy!—

OMAR
(aside.)
His motion is disturb'd—'Twere best withdraw
A moment—I wait, my lord, your sacred leisure.

[Bows and retires, Almoran not marking him.
ALMORAN.
Hell to my hopes, and horrors to my heart!
Wed her! so soon! to-morrow! wed Almeida!
Oh, dire confusion—some protecting God
Descend, descend to ward the fatal blow;
May rolling thunders, light'nings intercept it!
But curse on invocation, what avails it?
Even while I supplicate the hour draws nigh,
The fatal hour that is to crush my hopes,
As I this murd'rous scroll—away with prayer;
The tardy striking gods deny their succour.
What must be done? Ye powers of darkness rise!
Spirits infernal leave your flaming beds—

[Omar re-enters suddenly.
OMAR.
My lord.

ALMORAN.
Ha! dotard, traitor, trembling hoary traitor,
Dare not to think I wish it were conceal'd;
My rage, my grief, my ruin—Dotard, no!
Tho' thou hast stol'n the secret from my lips,
The soul of Almoran by fear unaw'd
Smiles on thy powerless perfidy.—The world,
The vassal universe, is mine—Away—
Begone with life—I give it thee—I scorn
To stain my arm, but leave thee thus despis'd.

[Going, Omar catches his robe and kneels.
OMAR.
Bow'd as I am already to the earth
By time's oppressive hand—with all the weight
Of fourscore winters on my aged head,
I fall still lower, with submission fall,
To clasp these sacred knees and beg an audience.
Ah, dear, unhappy prince, repress these starts;
Subdue the unmanly rage that checks thy virtue;
Conquer thy fury, and resume the king.
There is no cause, my soul disdains to listen,
Affection brought me back.—

ALMORAN.
And what art thou,
That Almoran should care, or clear, or guilty?

OMAR
(rises.)
And what am I? A long-try'd faithful subject;
A man who honours and a friend who loves thee.
If these white hairs, grown silver in thy service;
If age, if truth, no kind attentions warrant,
Still Omar's duty dictates to his tongue.

ALMORAN.
Hah!

OMAR.
The pride of health now blooms upon thy cheek,
High bounds each fervid pulse with vigorous life;
Unbounded power, unbounded wealth are thine;
Beauty has thrown her manly graces round thee,
And lavish nature hath done all she can:
Yet misery and grief, and rage unseemly
Blot every blessing, wither every joy,
“Rob of its radiance thy imperial crown,
“From the soft pillow rudely tear repose,”
And make thee, Almoran, supremely wretched.

ALMORAN.
“And if I were; thou like a meddling fool,
“Like the dark raven on the blasted branch,
“Art come officiously to croak despair,
“And spread more gloom upon the troubled mind:
“I thank thee for't.—

OMAR.
Heav'n knows thou dost me wrong.
“That heav'n can tell, I pity, love, revere thee.
“My very heart now bleeds to see the prince;
“To see the youth, who, from the prattling hour
“Of unoffending infancy, these eyes
“Have view'd with all the fondness of a father,
“Thus sink to earth, the victim of the passions.
“But oh! th' abode of bliss is still before thee;
“The flow'rs of peace, and joy, and soft content,
“Smile beautiful around—plain lies the path,
“Nor is it difficult to keep the track,
“Mark'd by the cherub hand of truth to man,
“Pursue it—oh, pursue it, and be happy.”

ALMORAN.
Dost thou presume with a bold pedant's tongue
To school the son of Solyman—thy master?
Bold monitor, I am my own adviser;
Think, speak, act, dictate, only for myself,
Nor will I brook a vassal's interruption.

OMAR.
Ev'n Solyman himself, thou cruel prince,
That scepter'd saint, who from the King of Kings
Now takes the crown of virtue—He disdain'd not
To catch instruction from the voice of Omar;
Nor did he weigh in pride's too partial balance
The station or descent of useful wisdom.
But this avails not: Tho' my lord thou scorn'st
The honest cautions of my zeal to serve thee,
I must not see thee—for thy sire is dead;
The oath I gave is with him in the skies,
And all the parent sits upon this bosom—
I will not see thee rush on shame and ruin.

ALMORAN.
Ha! traitor, dar'st thou—

OMAR.
In a cause like this,
Tho' death stood ready with the bloody bowstring,
Omar dare shew the firmness of his virtue:
Nay, if his duty urges, dare do more.

ALMORAN.
What more, insulting minister, what more?

OMAR.
Unaw'd, undaunted, like a faithful subject—
Dare, unappall'd, tell Almoran he's guilty—
Tell him—whene'er he deviates into vice,
Presumes that kings are left to range at large
O'er the heaven-guarded property of others,
And trespass on the sovereign rights of man;
Or yield to passions that debase his station,
Kindle intestine slames, embroil the state—
Then tell him that he merits well the scorn
Of every loyal heart—A king no more—
A king, the public father, born to bless,
And court the smiles of all his subject children.

ALMORAN.
Loquacious babbler—cease thy rude upbraidings,
Lest I be tempted to destroy the web
Wove with such waste of toil—Away thou fool:
Go school thy Hamet—we disdain prescription.

OMAR.
My duty is discharg'd and I have done.
Farewell—There is an hour on wing—Oh heavens!
I tremble for thee—Prince, there is an hour
That will, alas, when thou art all unfriended,
When the proud monarch, like the slave he spurns,
Shall drop the lofty eye, the sultan's crest,
“And fell disease unsmoothe the chearless pillow,”
Thunder conviction on thee—Oh, expect it—
'Tis terrible—a pang without a name—
To meet it unawares or unprepared.

[Exit.
ALMORAN
(alone, greatly agitated.)
Thunder conviction!
—Curse upon the slave,
He starts a thought that quite disarms my soul.
—But wherefore pause I thus, the fool of fancy?
Grey steals the dawn upon me, and to-morrow,
That mountain to my hopes, is near at hand,
Veil'd only by the transient shades of night.
Hamet, Almeida, Omar, all oppose me:
No more delays—the measures must be swift.
Enter CALED. (Hastily)
Again! Audacious villain die.—Ha, Caled!

[Almoran draws a sabre.
CALED.
How! sovereign of the world, have I offended?

ALMORAN.
Rise, Caled, rise: I thought thee that vile Omar—
Wherefore this haste?

CALED.
Passing the western gate
That opens on the eye the gliding barks,
I saw but now the lovers arm in arm
Pursue the tender walk, and sighing say
To-morrow—oh! to-morrow.—

ALMORAN.
I've heard it all,
That Omar brought the tidings, fretted, chid me;
Prated cold maxims to my burning rage,
And tho' he saw my very soul disorder'd
Persisted still to preach me into patience:
At length the pent-up tempest tore its way
Thro' this indignant bosom, and all wild
With anguish and despair, I spurn'd him from me.

CALED.
Short is the time my lord—If instant acts
Prevent not the solemnity, all's foil'd.
What may be done?

ALMORAN.
Be quick then, tardy thinker,
Dispatch, determine, execute at once:
And let a moment do the work of ages.

CALED.
Suspecting somewhat of love's forward zeal,
And from the faithful Ali gathering more,
I am not wholly unprepar'd, my lord;
Ali, 'tis true, is somewhat stubborn, thoughtful,
Of temper oft resisting; but a priest, my lord,
Open to great aspirings, wary, plausible:
We have conferr'd of late.

ALMORAN.
Ha! light breaks in upon me.
I have it all—Haste, Caled, then to Ali,
The night is far advanced—the time most precious.
Lose not a moment to bring Ali with thee,
Ev'n to my secret chamber thou conduct him:
The blow we have to strike shall—but away—
'Tis unexpected thunder stuns us most,
And terror doubles when the flash is sudden—
Let Osmyn too be summon'd; all combine—
Sure of immortal honour—to defend
The throne, the heart of the insulted Almoran.