University of Virginia Library

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.