University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Palace.
Palmyra and Zaphna meet.
Zaph.
Palmyra!—

Pal.
Zaphna!—

Zaph.
Do I hear that voice?—
Do I then hold thee? gaze upon those eyes,
That open their returning dawn upon me?—
O my life's life!—'twas a long night of absence,
And busied in such dreams of dire distraction,
As thus to see thee could alone compensate—
Thus, thus to wake in bliss!—

Pal.
My love, my Zaphna!
My fears for you were twice my own distress;
For here, within, a friend of your's was busy,
Who guess'd your pains, and number'd all your sufferings.

Zaph.
Would you believe I could survive in pangs,
Greater than what expiring wretches feel
In the last struggle, when the soul is parting?
And yet, I know not how, some strengthening power
Whisper'd a hope, and bid your Zaphna live.

Pal.
Blest be that power, for sure he meant this meeting!
And, O my Zaphna, were my choice consulted,
Better to die a thousand deaths together,
Than live to part again.

Zaph.
Part?—no, Palmyra!—
That hopes makes all my happiness on earth,
In death my comfort, and my heaven hereafter.
Well did the faith of thy foreseeing father,
Fill up his blest eternity with love—
Then, as my fair Palmyra stood before him,
He caught the vision of celestial beauty,
And drew his future paradise from thee!

Pal.
Delightful flattery!—And yet, my Zaphna!
Who knows but Heaven, indulgent to my wishes,
May, in the region of exalted charms,
Improve the pittance of Palmyra's beauty,
And make me worthy thy immortal passion?
But tell me, hast thou seen Sopheian?—Say,
Will he restore me to my wonted happiness,
Once more to liberty, to love, and Zaphna?

Zaph.
So stands my hope—the reverend sire consents
To render back thy beauties, in exchange
For his own children.

Pal.
Are they living, then?
O the good man!—Methinks I see their meeting—
The royal parent, in his tears majestick,
Suspended o'er his children; and the joy,
The extasy, my Zaphna, of those orphans,
Restored to such a father!

Zaph.
Ah—our souls—
How much the same! thy very thoughts are mine
And my heart melts with my Palmyra's softness.
A kindred feeling too—myself an orphan,
Dropt, as the Prophet saith, amid the storm
Of some sack'd town, the child of war and chance,
Not worth a further search; and yet aspiring
To thee, bright daughter of the Dawn of Truth—
Star of that Heaven, who constitutes thy sire
The Angel of his word!

Pal.
Thou art, my Zaphna,
Sufficient to thyself; the mighty heir
Of thy own virtues, seated firm and high
O'er all that's built upon the failing props
Of birth and empire!—Art thou not the arm
Of my great sire, Heaven's substituted bolt,
Wherewith our Prophet strikes the prostrate world?

Zaph.
There is a fear—there is a fear, Palmyra!—
The thought hath open'd such a gulph before me,
That my mind, plunging down her own conception,
Pre-occupies perdition.—

Pal.
What's so high,
Whereto my hero may not lift his hope?—
What has he, then, to fear?

Zaph.
Returning late,
From Tabuc, Dauman, Eyla, by my arms
Subdued—all flush'd, and rapid on my way,
The Prophet met me; caught me to his breast;
And, ere I bow'd myself to due prostration,
“Zaphna,” he cried, “my Zaphna, by that power
“Who leads the leaders of our host! demand,
“And take thy wish.”—As sudden, I replied—
“Palmyra is the daughter of our Prophet!”—
I spoke, and sought the earth—Deep silence follow'd—
When to my lifted eye, his cheek, all pale,
Usurp'd a transient smile, to smooth his answer:
“I see,” he cried, “I see that hour at hand,
“Wherein thou wilt unthread this rash request,
“And flee whom now thou followest!”

Pal.
Ah, undone!
If Zaphna can be doom'd to such a treason.

Zaph.
Forbear, my love!—to me wouldst thou impute—
Urge not to frenzy—To thy other creatures,
Give other blessings, Heaven! thou know'st that Zaphna
Can taste but one—In her, as in the grave,
Is every sense absorb'd—to my Palmyra
To this sole point, whate'er I build for hope,
Here or hereafter, comes—sap me this prop,
Heaven, earth, and all, are hurried from existence,
And Zaphna sinks for ever!

Pal.
Then, what more?
Since that our hearts are ratified above,
Ere aught below should wrest the sacred knot,
I'd prove a parent to my own affections,
And give where Heaven appoints.

Zaph.
Wilt seal that compact?

Pal.
Yes.

Zaph.
Nearly?

[Opens his arms.
Pal.
Dearly seal it!

[They embrace.
Zaph.
O the rapture!—
I doubt my time—the Prophet's on his way—
He will'd me to attend him 'ere his entrance,
And thence return the hostage of his faith
To Mecca's chief.

Pal.
What here?

Zaph.
To thee, my love!

Pal.
Let it be soon, my Zaphna.

Zaph.
Soul of my soul, even wing'd by my own wishes!
Adieu—

Pal.
May the good angels quit all other charge,
To take thee to their keeping.

[Exeunt severally.