University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

HAMET, OMAR.
HAMET.
My reverend father, guardian ever dear,
My spirit could not rest till it had found thee.
I left thee late with gloom upon thy brow,
And all unevenly thy accents fell,
As if contention 'twixt thy heart and tongue
Wag'd war severe.

OMAR.
It was but fancy;
The eye of friendship magnifies each trifle.

HAMET.
If 'twas but fancy, wherefore droop'st thou now?
What may this mean, my friend?

OMAR.
Regard it not;
Age is uncertain, weak, and full of starts;
Precarious life then hangs but by an hair,
And a babe's breath will shake it—

HAMET.
Haply, still
Thou art with Almoran displeas'd—Forgive him!
The letter brought by Osmyn might excuse
His warmth. 'Twas to invite my Omar's pardon;
What could my brother more? We all are men:
Error confess'd, is, to a noble mind,
Error's atonement. Heav'n requires no more!

OMAR.
If I am sad, thou hast not guess'd the cause.
Power's vain parade, and Passion's rudest burst,
Fall unregarded on this aged bosom;
And all their force is blunted e'er they reach me.
The pangs which now I feel are all for thee.

HAMET.
For me—and art thou sad for me—for Hamet.
Have not the gods been more than lavish to him?
Will not the musick of th'harmonious choir
Soon echo Hamet's joys throughout the palace?
Are not the priests already in the mosque?
Are not the virgins with their wreathes prepar'd
To strew the roseate paths of love with flow'rs?
Nay, will not Almoran himself attend?
Come, let's be gone. Ali ere this expects us.

OMAR.
I have deceiv'd thee, Hamet—much deceiv'd thee.

HAMET.
Deceiv'd me!—Thou!—Has Omar much deceiv'd me?

OMAR.
Yes—thy brother—there it begins—thy brother—
Yet, say his life upon thy kindness rested,
Wou'd not thy virtuous heart do much to save it?

HAMET.
To save his life!—O much indeed, my Omar.
I'd rush undaunted thro' the perilous war,
Ev'n where the bleeding battle thickest rag'd,
And spread my body as a shield before him.
I'd rush into the wild and fearful waves,
When their chaf'd fury drench'd the sailing clouds,
I'd fight, I'd fall, I'd DIE to save his life.

OMAR.
There spoke at once the monarch and the man;
And oh! still dearer, there the brother spoke.
Should he then ask a treasure at thy hand,
Thy soft humanity would grant his suit,
Ev'n tho' it pointed to—the fair Almeida.

HAMET.
To fair Almeida!—Hear me, Holy Powers;
[kneels.
Hear me each power that in Fate's awful volume
Record'st the vows of men—the oaths of kings,
That ought to bear, like thine, the seals of truth;
Oh hear me swear—while kneeling thus before thee,
I pledge my soul's fix'd ardours to Almeida,
Nor shou'd the congregated globe united
E'er rend her from these clasping, constant arms,
'Till their last sinew sunk beneath the sabre:
This witness, gods—the guardians of our love.

[rises.
OMAR
(aside.)
'Tis as I thought—all gentle as he is,
At the fond heart he is a very lover:
'Twill be in vain to warn him.—O, my son,
Forgive the cautious scruples of my age;
No more I chill with doubts thy generous hopes.

HAMET.
Doubts!—there's no cause of doubt—I am most blest.

OMAR.
Go then, dear youth, indulge the sacred joy.
Go—and with this eternal truth be happy,
Tho' yonder orb shou'd from its sphere be hurl'd,
And this firm-sealed earth—with all her tow'rs,
The mighty labour of three thousand years—
Shou'd instant mingle with the dust that form'd them,
The equitable soul, by truth upborn,
Far o'er the vapours of this mould'ring world,
Shall bold resist each perishable power,
And greatly triumph in the crush of nature.

HAMET
(looking out.)
Omar, behold! my Almoran appears.
In the fraternal look he comes array'd.
You wrong'd him, friend—indeed you wrong'd him much.