Almida :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thy bosom laboring with a smother'd sigh
Seems to reproach me; a repining heart
Seconds but ill th'obedience of the lips.

ALMIDA.
Alas! my father, little did I think
Your past misfortunes and dissensions over,
You would espouse the cause of Orbassan,
Or that this hand was destin'd to unite ye!
Must then these arms be open to your foe?
Can I forget how from your houshold gods,
The rage of civil war unpitying drove you?
How forc'd, unwilling, my lost mother flew,
And sought for safety on a foreign shore.
Torn by my fate from your protecting arms,
Sad witness and companion of her woes,
Long did I share them at the court of Cæsar.
Even from my cradle, train'd in sorrow's school,
Early I learn'd beneath a hapless parent,
Wand'ring and fugitive to bear with exile,
And the sad fate of out-casts: to support
The frown disdainful of a haughty court;
The cruel mockery of false compassion,
Bitterer than insult; yet amidst my woes,
The bright example of a mother's virtues,
Deep in my bosom fix'd a sense of honor;
Depriv'd too soon of her maternal care,
Like the weak reed, shook by regardless winds,
Friendless I stood alone and unprotected!
Your fortunes chang'd, and trembling for her safety,
Ungrateful Syracuse recall'd you to her.
Your ravish'd wealth and honors she restor'd,
Trusted her armies to your brave command,
And from her frighted walls repuls'd the foe.
Shelter'd once more in your paternal bosom,
From whence no common miseries had torn me,
I only come perhaps to prove fresh sorrows.

“Too well I see the aim, the hope that leads you,
“To light the torch of this ill suited hymen:
“Long have I been the victim of your foes,
“And now at last am yours;
For trust me, Sir,
This day ill-omen'd leads to new misfortunes.

ARNOLPH.
Banish thy fears, this day shall make thee bless'd.
Trust to a father's word. Thou know'st how dear
Thy peace, thy honor must be to my heart.
The lustre of this marriage will efface
Th'affront from haughty Solyman receiv'd,
Who dar'd to ask thy hand. You wed a hero,
My rival once, now my support and friend.

ALMIDA.
He your support! Ah what an empty claim
Pride without justice makes to our esteem!
'Tis sure a pity that this valiant hero
Despoils the innocent to swell his greatness!

ARNOLPH.
Severely prudent it is true the council
In Tancred punishes a foreign race;
Which overbearing long abus'd its power;
But now detested—

ALMIDA.
I am misinform'd,
Or Tancred still is lov'd in Syracuse.

ARNOLPH.
That he is brave even hatred must allow.
Illyria lately by his arm subdued
Proclaims his valor: but the fame he gathers,
Beneath the eagles of those hated Cæsars.

Serves but to make him more detested here,
And by an edict banish'd from our ramparts—

ALMIDA.
How! Tancred banish'd?

ARNOLPH.
Yes, they fear his presence.
If thou hast seen him when in Cæsar's court,
Thou know'st the hate, the enmity he bears us.

ALMIDA.
Alas! I thought not so, nor did my mother;
Nay more, she spoke with wonder of his virtues;
Virtues which might have sav'd this sinking state
Had not a faction triumph'd—

ARNOLPH.
'Tis enough,
The counsel of a father ought to guide thee;
To time, to place, with prudent virtue yield:
Tancred, and Solyman, and Cæsar's court,
Alike are objects of aversion here.
I for my country sixty years have fought;
Unjust I serv'd it, and ungrateful love it:
Adopt my sentiments; my stormy days
Are hast'ning to their end; my only hope,
By sorrow unextinguish'd, is thy bliss!
Could I behold thee happy, one fair gleam
Would brighten my last hour!

ALMIDA.
Your goodness, Sir.
Wakes all my soul to filial love and duty.
My life, my wishes, are to you devoted,
But if indeed you wish to see me happy,

Urge not this marriage. A prophetic terror
Runs freezing thro' my breast, and warns me from it.
Whence springs for Orbassan your suddden fondness?
His boasted credit may not last for ever;
Fortune may change; may soon withdraw her smiles;
Perhaps this hero is too sure, too hasty,
To vaunt himself your son, and my proud master.

ARNOLPH.
How! Thou dost not sure presume—

ALMIDA.
This boldness
May seem an outrage, and perhaps offend you.
Too well I know, that in a stern republic
Our sex is crampt by harsh ungentle rules;
Not as at Byzantium honor'd; for your rough laws
Exact obedience, and forbid a murmur.
These stubborn Mussulmen, too long your masters,
Have taught to Sicily their barb'rous manners;
But who shall rob me of a father's kindness?

ARNOLPH.
None but thyself. Something mysterious lurks
Beneath thy words; I would not pierce their meaning.
A short delay my fondness grants, but mark me,
Presume not I will suffer thy refusal;
My word is past; no power on earth shall loose it.
Avert kind gods these inauspicious omens!
Smile on this union! Be it thine, Almida,
To claim from heaven protection by thy virtue,
And may thy days be happier than thy father's.
[Ex. Arnolph.