University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Enter ALMORAN to ALMEIDA.
ALMORAN.
The bursting anguish rushes to her eye,
And her fair form, more lovely in distress,
Droops like the tender blossom of the spring,
Beat by the gather'd force of pitiless showers.
Fierce as I am, unbidden softness steals,
In gentlest sighs, from an unwonted source.
My very heart's subdued. Almeida, cease—
Repress those tears, this anguish, this despair.
I come to smoothe the tumults of thy bosom,
And at thy feet to lay the Persian sceptre.

ALMEIDA.
The Persian sceptre—Why must I reproach thee?
Such trappings are, alas! thy sole dependance.
Keep them, my lord, to awe the vulgar mind.
The scepter'd conscience wants no crown to grace it.

ALMORAN.
For thee, behold, I leave the Persian throne—
For thee, forgetting empire and command,
Lo! Almoran now bends his knee to earth,
And, with a subject's low humility,
Thus deigns to court the smile of fair Almeida.

[kneels.
ALMEIDA.
And dost thou strip me of each dearer joy,
Fix the fell poignard in the quivering heart,
And, as the ruddy life-blood gushes from it,
Calmly survey thy work, and bid me smile?

ALMORAN.
By Heav'n, you charge unjustly, my Almeida.

ALMEIDA.
Oh! Almoran, the human form is thine,
Yet where's the honour that should mark thy manhood.
Reluctant thousands call thee mighty sovereign;
Yet where's the virtues that should grace thy station?
But leave me to myself—I'll not upbraid thee.
One mournful boon is all that I shall ask;
I beg the privilege to weep alone.

ALMORAN.
Sorrow and solitude be far away.
Thou'rt too severe Almeida. Long I strove
To hide MY love in pity to my brother.

ALMEIDA.
He talks of pity too, who never felt it.
Where is thy brother, tyrant?—Where is Hamet?

ALMORAN.
He lives—is free—But wherefore talk of him—
Regard him not—

ALMEIDA.
Mark me, Almoran.
Thou bid'st me not regard him—then observe me!
If thy unhallow'd, desolating hand,
In utter darkness could that spark extinguish,
That viewless, vital spark of heaven-born fire,
Which the Omnipotent in this true breast
Hath kindly kindled, here to glow for ever,
Pure as the source that first supplied the flame,
Then might thy prisoner cease to think of Hamet.
But long as that inspires my faithful fondness,
Though waters wide as yonder heaven from earth,
Though worlds remote as planets from each other,
Should from his honour'd presence far divide me,
Still should Almeida's prayers be offer'd for him—
Still should her ardent tenderness increase—
And still, as now, in all his pride of splendour,
'Midst the vain glitter of his vacant greatness,
Still should perfidious Almoran be scorn'd.

ALMORAN.
Then be it so—Lady, 'tis well—I'll not complain,
For the curs'd stripling can obstruct no more.

ALMEIDA.
Ha!—how!—What said'st thou?—Is it possible,
Thou man of blood?—Sure thy barbarian hand—
And yet I fear—for in thy sanguine eye
Murder's inscrib'd—Yes, yes, thy silence speaks—
The characters of death are legible
In every cruel feature. Oh, distraction!
Here then, unnatural—here, well-pleased, behold,
Indulge thy genius—take thy fill of blood,
Point thy insatiate sabre here—yes, strike;
Think me a sister, and enjoy the slaughter.

ALMORAN.
By heav'n he lives, uncircumscrib'd he walks
Thro' Persia's realm, save this one dear apartment.

ALMEIDA.
Prais'd be the guardian god that shields his virtues;
Ador'd the power that watches all his ways.

ALMORAN.
Ah! lavish not these raptures on a wretch,
But kindly treat thy heav'n-allotted husband.

ALMEIDA.
Speak'st thou of heav'n?—and after foul detection?—
Of heav'n, where sceptre'd virtue sits enthron'd,
Sublime, amid'st the stars, to register
The deeds of human kind. “Oh, bethink thee:
“Can he who hangs, in yonder spangled vault,
“The even scale of justice, e'er ordain
“That I should violate this wretched form,
“And weary out a life of loveless perfidy?”
No, Almoran, thy priests have led the wrong:
Whate'er is made thy deity—ah! think not
Thou dost him honour, when thou mak'st him pleas'd
With what offends the secret judge within thee—
Yes, start; but know, insidious king,
E'en now, thou stand'st beneath a piercing eye,
That notes thy crimes, and will one day requite them.

ALMORAN.
I thought to have found thee, lady, less reluctant:
I'll talk no more—nor have I time to lose
In idle parly with a haughty beauty.
Thus in a word—if thou, with yielding kindness,
Within an hour, consent to crown my wishes,
The next shall honour thee as Persia's queen,
(Something thou see'st I can allow to pride)
If not, then learn the issue—That vile boy
Who hath usurp'd a gem, than crown more worth—
The throne of thy affections—think upon it—
Dies the succeeding instant—so resolve.

ALMEIDA.
The very image hurries me to phrenzy.
See, cruel, see Almeida at thy feet;
She condescends to kneel—for whom?—Thy brother.
Is human pity quite extinct, my lord—Oh, heaven!
Where is thy nature that it sleeps so sound?
Nay, turn not from me—spare the generous Hamet—
Shed not thy brother's blood—Thou wilt not kill him?

ALMORAN.
'Tis in Almida's power to save or ruin.

ALMEIDA.
Oh, name the means—Almeida dies to save him.

ALMORAN.
I've mark'd out easier terms, thou know'st.

ALMEIDA.
See, Sultan, see! behold!—ye shall not stir.

[Catches hold of him in great agony.
ALMORAN.
By hell he dies this moment—nay, thou
Shalt SEE him struggling in the pangs of death;
That hoary traitor too, thy sire Abdallah,
He from the palace shall be dragg'd.

ALMEIDA.
My father!

ALMORAN.
Yes; thou shalt gaze upon them—powerless gaze—
With frantick hand tear those luxuriant locks,
And shriek, and weary the reverberant air
With unavailing, impotent complainings.
Thy tears, thy strugglings, and thy woman's arts,
Assail in vain. Away, and hang not thus
Idly upon me, for I now can hate thee—Go—
Go and prepare for anguish, blood, and horror.

[Exit.