University of Virginia Library

SCENE X.

ENTER OMAR AND OSMYN, AT THE HEAD OF A LARGE PARTY.
ALMORAN.
More treason-slaves!

OMAR.
Seize, but shed no blood.

HAMET.
Hah!—Omar!—Osmyn!—Almoran disguis'd!
Oh! my brave friends, help, help, thy wretched master.
Rise injur'd excellence to life and Hamet.

ALMORAN.
Kill me, ye slaves, and I forgive the treason:
Unhand me, or by heaven—O! shame, shame, shame!

ALMEIDA.
Profound astonishment chains every sense!
Ah! righteous providence, what art's involv'd.

HAMET.
My fears for thee—

ALMEIDA.
Thy fears were vain, my lord—
Thou saw'st me arm'd—

HAMET.
Then I am blest indeed—Thy father's safe,
And all the tears he sheds are tears of joy.
But still that hapless man—It wounds my soul
To see the lofty spirit sinking in despair;
And nature yet demands a brother's pause
Suspended o'er his fate.

ALMORAN.
Thou shalt not chain me to the wheel of life—
Fierce throes of heart, and agonies unheard of,
Sit vulture-like upon—Stand off—I will not,
No—no power on earth shall hold the hand of justice:
[Breaks from the guards.
Lo it is poiz'd—Brother, I owe thee much—
How then to pay thee?—thus—thus—and thus.
[Stabs himself.
Hamet, thy fears are past—I faint apace—approach—
Ah! gently—Let me die upon thy bosom.
Much have I wrong'd—I can offend no more.

[Dies.
HAMET.
Ha! Almoran—my brother—once lov'd friend,
Alas! too late convinc'd.
Save me, Almeida, from this dreadful sight.

ALMEIDA.
Unhappy Almoran—My soul forgives thee!

OSMYN.
Hail injur'd king, the eastern world is thine.

HAMET.
I ask not now the means of this strange fortune;
But ere I taste the bounty of the gods
Dash'd with some bitterness—prepare that corpse
For the cold grave, with every regal honour:
And may his failings with his dust be buried.
The forfeit paid, how dark soe'er the crimes,
'Tis our's to pardon, friends, and not to punish.

OMAR.
Then Persia shall revive, and all be well.
Behold Ambition humbled in the dust,
The guilty Minion trembles at his crimes,
In this good man returning virtue smiles,
In your blest selves, my children, we may trace
The sure rewards of constancy and truth,
The meed of goodness—and CONSENT OF HEAV'N.