 | The Fair Circassian |  |
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.
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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.
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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
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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
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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,
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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.
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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!
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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;
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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.
| The Fair Circassian | |