 | The Fair Circassian |  |
37
SCENE V.
THE INSIDE OF THE CHIEF MOSQUE, MAGNIFICENTLY ILLUMINATED—ALI, IMANS, OFFICERS, AND THE ASSIATICK AMBASSADORS, PREPARED FOR THE CEREMONY —CHORUS OF YOUTHS AND VIRGINS, WHO ENTER WITH THE PRIESTS TO SING THE EPITHALAMIUM —AN ALTAR SUPERBLY DECORATED.ALMORAN.
Ali approach; begin the sacred rites.
ALI.
Deep in yon consecrated grove's recess,
E'en now the holy men, their sanctities
Unseen prepare. We wait their high report.
[after a pause.
And yet so blest a marriage may rely
Upon approving heav'n. On virtuous love
The gods will surely smile. Advance, ye pair,
On to the sacred altar—we delay not.
[Hamet and Almeida go a few paces and stop.
ODE.
Angels of truth, in robes of living light,
From yonder radiant sphere,
Expand your starry pinions bright,
And lend a fav'ring ear.
And thou benign, refulgent Source of day,
Bestow a tutelary ray;
Behold thy holy ministers prepare,
To join this heav'n-elected pair.
Behold, advancing to thy shrine,
They humbly beg the boon divine.
O then, from yonder regions pure above
Descend thy cherub choir on beams of love.
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Angels of truth, in robes of living light,
From yonder radiant sphere,
Expand your starry pinions bright,
And lend a fav'ring ear.
ALMORAN.
Thus then I take the fair Almeida's hand,
And to our happy brother thus present it.
[Joining their hands.
ALI.
Henceforward be these hands for ever—
Enter PRIEST (in great consternation).
PRIEST.
Cease, cease your rites, unhallow'd and unblest.
As but e'en now we kneel'd before the shrine,
Sudden tremendous darkness brooding sat,
Full on the grove, and shadow'd all beneath;
In adverse spires the angry flames arose,
And from the sacred sepulchre of Solyman
Deep sounds were heard, of inauspicious groans—
As if the troubled spirit there entomb'd
Oppos'd the nuptials—When lo! a voice,
Like thunder vollied thro' tempestuous air,
Said—take this scroll—commission'd from above.
It is the will divine—to Ali bear it.
Trembling we bow'd, and promis'd swift obedience.
ALI.
Ye powers, is this the heaven directed scroll?
ALMORAN
(eagerly).
But what imports it?
ALI
(reads).
Fate hath decreed to Almoran Almeida!
OMAR
(aside).
'Tis as I fear'd—Ali has play'd us false.
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Away with prodigies dissembling Ali,
Finish the rites this moment, or expect—
ALMEIDA
to ALI.
The profanation then, false priest, is thine:
Art thou to learn—and from a woman's tongue—
The duties of thine office? “Know'st thou not,
“That the just gods, with whom thou dar'st to trifle,
“Act by consistent and unerring laws
“Of truth, of love, and everlasting virtue.”
And would'st thou charge—oh, force of impious fraud!—
The dext'rous artifice of wicked men
To the account of heaven! Of heav'n, which sheds
It's freshest dews of blessedness on all
Whom faith and fondness hold in bonds of honour.
HAMET.
Are these thy arts?—Oh, most unhallow'd Ali.
ALMEIDA.
“Hence each iniquity, each dark design,
“The lures of interest, and the gusts of passion,
“The insidious project, and the sordid purpose,
“With each complotting juggle of the state,
“That venal ministers or holy minions,
“Full often practice to advance themselves,
“Or feed the lusts of some deluded master,
“Receives a sanction from the powers above.”
HAMET.
Yes, priest, there's not a crime which meanness prompts,
Vain folly sighs for, mad ambition kindles;
There's not a daring dreadful villainy,
“Nor yet a fraud that the smooth courtier wishes
“To pass on prince or people, as a virtue,
“And trick it off in reverend robes, like thine,”
But still the instrument is wrong'd RELIGION,
And heav'n itself is made the guilty cause
Of heap'd enormities, which hell would start at.
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Brother forbear—
ALI.
The gods must be obey'd.
ALMEIDA.
Yes, priest, I know it. Then obey them straight.
Dost thou still waver to expound their will—
Their will is obvious, simple, unperplex'd,
And never leads the enquiring mind astray,
But when entangled in thy mystick toils.
“O slow of soul as destitute of honour,
“Had'st thou e'er heard the heavenly voice of truth,
“Or could that bosom, dark and drear as death,
“Sacred to viler passion, e'er have felt
“The unblemish'd fervors of a generous love,
“Without disguise the oracle would tell thee
“—That pure plain oracle, an honest heart—
“The sacred duties at the bridal altar.”
ALI.
Still we repeat the gods, and fate—
HAMET.
Peace sacrilegious—much thou talk'st of gods,
And much of fate—thy guileful lips have utter'd?
But when did fate work miracles for tyrants?
Or when invert the order of the skies
To favour lust, impiety, and shame?
ALMORAN.
I'll hear no more—Ali renew the rites
For Almoran, renew them. Fate decrees
Almeida to my arms.
HAMET.
Brother 'tis false,
And with my life—
ALI.
Monarch desist—With reverence obey.
Omar himself can tell—
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Yes priest, he can;
For long his wary eye has watch'd thy sliding.
Omar CAN tell thee all thou dare forget;
That mark'd for holiness, thy heart should prove,
A temple worthy the pure truth it teaches;
That thou should spurn ambition's fatal fires,
And kiss the shrine, unspotted and ador'd,
Of meek humility—“Religion's chief
“Guide of the Persian faith—that thy example
“Should, to the countless crouds thou hast in charge,
“The undefiled charities dispense,
“Cleans'd as the dews of heav'n—Amid'st thy wealth,
“Pour'd in large tribute to thy honour'd order,
“That still the willing offering of the rich
“Should poize the lots of life, and bless the poor;
“The everlasting fire that thou should'st guard,
“Ev'n 'till that sacred element subdue
“The world whereon we move—But above all,
“That thou should'st ne'er pervert the holy flame
“With fancied visions that confound the soul;
“Nor terrify with mystic forgeries
“The simple and sincere; but calm to teach,
“Powerful to aid, and patient to instruct,
“Distinguish vice from virtue, truth from error;
“Check the bold sinner whatsoe'er his station;
“Ev'n in the royal presence to assert,
“If a more awful presence prompts the duty,
“The man of truth;” nor even dare, as thou
Hast dar'd, to KNOW these glorious truths,
Yet turn them all to mockery and baseness.
HAMET.
The holy mosque is tainted with their crimes:
'Twere best retire, my love; nor will I deign
Once to reproach the priest—man's faint rebuke
42
Brother and friend no more—Dishonest man!
Be mine, or thine, henceforth the Persian throne.
The PRIESTS and ALI confer.
ALMORAN
(interrupting.)
Deep-judging Ali,
Is this the boasted issue of thy wiles?
Is this the proud result of all thy wisdom?
Of flaming altars and concerted groans:
This the rare miracle—the rich device—
That was to bring Almeida to my arms,
A gift of heav'n! Away, ye hoary traitors,
This instant quit the temple—hence—begone—
Dare not to justify—I'll hear no more.
Curse on thy prodigies, I here renounce them.
She shall be mine without your feeble aid;
Force, scepter'd force, ensues, avow'd and bold:
Spurn'd from this heart be ev'ry vain disguise,
My passion knows no bounds—henceforth I seize
My beateous victim in the face of day.
[Exit with Osmyn and Caled.
| The Fair Circassian | |