University of Virginia Library

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE THE FIRST

continues.
Semiramis appears leaning on her Woman, as in the deepest Affliction:—at length she comes forward, followed by Otanes.
SEMIRAMIS.
Oh that the friendly hand of death would cast
His darksome veil o'er these unhappy eyes,
Grown dim with tears, and weary of the sun!
—Is not Arzaces yet arrived?

OTANES.
He is;
This day, O Queen, he enter'd these proud walls.

SEMIRAMIS.
'Tis well—for know, Otanes, this dread voice
Piercing the ear of night, has warned thy Queen,
That when Arzaces should arrive, her woes
Should meet a respite, and her torments cease.

OTANES.
Shall not these tidings then dispel this gloom,
And stop the current of these endless tears?

SEMIRAMIS.
They form a ray of hope, my soul methinks
Will lose its terrors in Arzaces' presence.

OTANES.
Banish all recollection of that deed,
Which freed you from the fatal marriage yoke;
The act was almost justice, for the King
Had basely driv'n you from his bed and throne;
And sure the various blessings you've diffused,
Join'd to the grateful prayers of many nations,
Shall plead so strongly at Heav'n's high tribunal,
That were the gods incensed at Ninus' death,
They'd blunt the sword of vengeance.—See Assures,
His crime surpasses yours, he mix'd the draught;
Yet prosp'rous still, rejoices in his greatness,
Nor dreads, nor feels the anger of the gods.

SEMIRAMIS.
Alas! my guilt was greater, as my ties
Were far more sacred, for I was the wife
Of murder'd Ninus, and my fix'd despair
Accuses me to all the pow'rs of vengeance.
I once had hopes, that when my darling son
By untimely death was torn from my fond arms,
Vengeance divine had ceas'd; but since this phantom,
This dreadful vision, has disturb'd my peace,
I often seek that tomb, revere from far
The ashes of my lord, invoke his shade,
Then shrieks, long and loud groans answering my vows,
Seem to foretell some dire event.—Perchance
The hour's now come to expiate my crime.

OTANES.
Might not your sorrow conjure up this spirit?
Perchance the offspring of your troubled mind?

SEMIRAMIS.
Too sure these eyes beheld it—'twas no child
Of fancy or of sleep, for sleep has long
Fled from these eyelids—Wakeful on my bed,
Pondering on my sad lot, I heard a voice
Exclaim “Arzaces!” at which name did joy
Dawn on my heart, that heart which curst Assures
Has pierc'd with horror; for I hop'd Arzaces
Might dare t'oppose him, and his pow'r restrain,
Who, as the foul accomplice of my crime,
Aspires to share my scepter;—for an instant
My sorrows ceas'd, when lo in Ninus' form
Sudden the minister of death appear'd,
His threat'ning sword besmear'd with clotted blood.
Methinks ev'n now I view the injur'd shade,
Methinks I hear him groan!

OTANES.
Say, mighty Empress,
What did the shade reveal?

SEMIRAMIS.
He would not speak
His direful purpose; therefore I remain'd
In dark suspence, dreading uncertain ill,
A state so curst—the heavy load of life
Grew irksome;—thirsting then to know my fate,
And dreading to consult the sainted pontiff
Whom Babylon reveres,
Proudly disdaining that a priest should view
His monarch trembling in a mortal's presence,
I sent to Memphis to consult great Jove,
With gifts and incense, tho' too well convinc'd,
That neither gifts nor incense can atone
For crimes so great as mine.

OTANES.
Oft do these oracles direct the steps
Of erring mortals.—

Enter Messenger.
MESSENGER.
Great Queen, the Egyptian pontiff is arriv'd.—
[Exit Messenger.

SEMIRAMIS.
I go to meet him.—May the gods remove
The veil 'twixt me and fate, and may I read
My destiny to come! whether I'm doom'd
To sink beneath my suff'rings, or find
A period to my sorrows in Arzaces.

[Exeunt.

SCENE THE SECOND.

Arzaces and Azema.
AZEMA.
To you, Arzaces, this unconquer'd empire
Its present splendour owes, and I my freedom;
For when the vanquish'd Scythians, to repair
Their late defeats, sprang with their treacherous bands
Forth from their gloomy caves and dark retreats,
With rage redoubled rushing on our troops;
Then when my warlike father fell, and left
In hopeless slavery the lost Azema,
You sent the furious thunder of the war
Beyond their desart's bound'ries, and your hands
Unloos'd her chains, and satisfied her vengeance.
Vast is the debt I owe you, and this heart's
Your poor reward.

ARZACES.
Must I not claim this hand?

AZEMA.
It ne'er shall be another's;—but take heed
Least this our mutual passion prove our ruin.
O let me warn you, that this martial pride,
Joined to the lover's softness, may destroy us.
They both alike incense a dangerous rival,
Too great t'oppose or cope with—vile Assures.

ARZACES.
Is then that insolent, ambitious man
My rival as my foe?

AZEMA.
'Tis true, ambition lords it o'er his mind,
He pants for royal power, and seeks my hand
Faster to grasp the scepter in his own.
But trust me, my Arzaces, if the prince,
He whom great Ninus destin'd from his birth,
Would wed Azema; if this empire's heir
Were yet alive, and in his mother's court,
If with his diadem his heart he proffer'd;
I call the conscious powers of love to witness,
I would disdain them both, and would prefer
Exile with thee, before a throne with him.

ARZACES.
Benignant gods! 'tis now that I am blest:
While thus I triumph in Azema's heart,
How much I soar above th'ambitious hopes
Of fell Assures!—

AZEMA.
Yet let me conjure you
To dread his vengeance, which will know no bounds
Towards his love's rival—whom, from other motives,
Ev'n now he hates, and labours to destroy.

ARZACES.
I hate him more, but ne'er can learn to fear him.
The Queen between us, with most even hand,
Doth poize the balance of her royal favour.
Soon as I prostrate fell before her throne,
With her own hand she rais'd me from the earth,
And oft she call'd me her victorious soldier,
Her kingdom's best support. Yes, my Azema,
I heard my praises issue from those lips,
Which mightiest sovereigns glory to obey.

AZEMA.
These tidings cheer my heart; for if the Queen
Deigns to protect, in vain Assures threatens.

ARZACES.
Embolden'd by her goodness, at her feet
I meant t'implore her to complete our union.
But ere I spoke, behold a priest approach'd,
Bearing great Ammon's oracle. The Queen
With trembling hands unseal'd the scroll, let fall
Some precious tears, and fix'de her watry eyes
Long time on me, with marvellous attention,
Then sigh'd, and fled my sight. What this should mean
I know not; yet I deeply mourn her fate.

AZEMA.
Leave her not to Assures, and his counsels;
He may prevent her good intents.
My pray'rs shall aid my wishes and my hopes;
I feel in loving you I please the gods.
Now let the vanquish'd East fall down and worship
Divine Semiramis—I am more great;
The world is at her feet, but you at mine.

ARZACES.
Behold the traitor comes!—at his appearance
My soul is seized with an unwonted horror.

SCENE THE SECOND.

Enter Assures.
ASSURES.
It seems on thee high honours have been lavish'd,
For which ev'n kings themselves have sigh'd in vain.
Nay, thou hast dar'd presumptuously to rival
High-born Assures in Azema's love.

ARZACES.
I've learnt, it's true, to honour and revere
That race from which you sprang, your rank and blood;
But in despite of all these rights you boast,
I dare put in my claim, I love the maid;
And I could add, if like a peaceful courtier
I chose to vaunt before her, I upheld
That throne which you, Assures, hope t'ascend.
And now I haste t'obey Azema's orders.
By her and by Semiramis alone
I am commanded. You perchance hereafter
May wield the scepter, but ne'er hope to rank
Arzaces in the number of your subjects.
Thou may'st be king—for oft the gods in wrath
Do monarchs give as scourges to mankind.

[Exit.

SCENE THE THIRD.

Azema and Assures.
ASSURES.
His insolence too long has been endured.
But may I now hold converse with Azema,
On subjects far more worthy her attention?

AZEMA.
Can there be theme more glorious? Speak, my lord,
I am all attention.

ASSURES.
O let no trifling cares usurp your thoughts,
The world's great guidance, universal sway
Shall soon call on us, and shall occupy
Each vast idea.—Lo! Semiramis
Is but the shadow of herself, high Heaven
Seems to debase her greatness, and that star
Which long has shone with undiminish'd blaze
The glory of our hemisphere, has lost
Its wonted lustre, and now hasting on
Towards its decline, shall set in endless night.

AZEMA.
My lord, I am not skill'd in state intrigues,
But know not why you deem yourself impower'd
To tax my sighs, or read my virgin thoughts.

ASSURES.
Cherish aspiring thoughts, thoughts worthy kings.
The fate of empire hangs upon our union:
For now I speak to mighty kings and heroes,
And all the demi-gods from whom you sprang.
Too long a woman trampling on their ashes,
Usurping pow'r to which we should lay claim,
Has held enthrall'd the nations of the earth.
Complete the work then of her falling greatness.
Time was, she had your charms; assume her courage.
Love should not dare present himself before you
In aught but in a monarch's form. That crown
I tender, and I trust you'll not prefer
A rude barbarian?

AZEMA.
Peace, peace, Assures.
Shall I contemn the glory, and disgrace
The names recorded by eternal fame
Of my great ancestors? Though I deny
That in the blazon of that glorious strain
One could be found of more exalted soul,
Than him you dare miscall a rude barbarian.
For me, when Fate decrees that I must wed,
'Tis for Semiramis to guide my choice.
You say the gods are all incensed against her.
I know not for what crime; but this I know,
That thou wilt never be the chosen man,
The holy seer commission'd by the Fates
To point the thunder of avenging Jove.

[Exit.

SCENE THE FOURTH.

Manet Assures. To him enter Cedarus.
ASSURES.
Well, faithful Cedarus, say, what success?
Say, will the seeds of hatred and rebellion
Which we have sown in men's distemper'd bosoms,
Will they spring up, will they ere long bring forth
The fruits of discord and intestine war?

CEDARUS.
I dare hope much, my lord—at length the people
Break their long silence, and, impress'd no more
By that dread awe in which the vaunted name
Of great Semiramis had bound their senses,
They now demand to know this empire's heir;
Say they must have a king to hold their scepter,
And that Semiramis must name Assures.

ASSURES.
O source of endless shame!—must then my glory,
My rank, my very fate, depend on her?
Was it for this, ye powers, I murder'd Ninus,
And, wading deeper thro' the sea of blood,
Cut off his infant son, and so removed
My only barrier to th'Imperial throne?
Have I done this to crawl in Babylon,
To be a subject?

CEDARUS.
Check th'ignoble thought.

ASSURES.
Spite of myself I am compell'd to praise her;
For, Cedarus, I've seen this godlike woman,
When the vast empire like a drunkard reel'd,
And as a coward shook with rude commotion,
Into her hands take the disjointed rule,
With the sharp sword of justice mow oppression,
Stop all the various sources of corruption,
Silence the murmurers, stifle the tumults,
And with such art and wisdom mould the state,
That peace and order have embrac'd each other.

CEDARUS.
But now her genius grovels in the dust.

ASSURES.
Behold in me a mighty minister,
But robb'd of power; a prince but without subjects;
Encircled with high honours, yet dependant.
But woe befall her, if th'ungrateful woman
Drives to extremes her desperate confederate.

SCENE THE FIFTH.

To them enter Otanes.
OTANES.
My lord, the Queen requires your private ear.

ASSURES.
Lo! she appears! Retire good Cedarus.

[Exit Cedarus.

SCENE THE SIXTH.

To him enter Semiramis.
SEMIRAMIS.
My lord, at length I must unfold that heart
Which in your presence has absorb'd its grief.
I've govern'd Asia, and perhaps with glory;
You too have borne the weight of this vast empire.
Long have I liv'd so blest, that I forgot
The dreadful step which rais'd me to this height.
I was unmindful that the gods were just.
But now Heaven speaks, I yield, and this great kingdom
Will soon be strengthen'd, even from its foundation.

ASSURES.
It is a part that's worthy of my Queen
To finish this her glorious work—but say,
What power is able to obscure that glory?
The earth obeys you, what d'ye fear from Heaven?

SEMIRAMIS.
Can you ask this, while you behold yon tomb?

ASSURES.
I must confess I cannot bear with patience
To be reminded that once Ninus reign'd.
For fifteen years that king has slept in peace,
And do we fear his shade should burst the tomb,
And come thus late to cry to man for vengeance?
No fears like these should shake your daring soul;
But if 'tis now intent on nobler plans,
If you'd perpetuate the blood of Belus,
If fair Azema's claim to this high rank—

SEMIRAMIS.
Aye, that's my theme—Great Jove, and Babylon,
Demand without delay the scepter's heir,
And I must chuse a partner of my throne.
You know my pride, and my unconquer'd spirit,
Have made it long their law to reign alone;
But now Heaven's voice assists my people's prayers,
I must divide my power—'Tis you, my lord,
Who best may claim the title of a king;
You're next in power on earth, but not my equal.
It is enough, and I've the pride to think
That rank may satisfy your vast ambition.

ASSURES.
Great are your favours, Queen, great my deserts;
For you I've dy'd my hands with royal blood,
And shall I not receive the bright reward
Of this bold deed?

SEMIRAMIS.
Hear
Great Ammon's oracle, and know my will.
[Reads.]
“All Babylon shall wear a face of joy,
“When the sad mother, and more cruel wife,
“Shall light once more the Hymeneal torch.
“Then shall she calm the restless shade of Ninus.”
Such are the eternal orders of the gods.
This day, I mean to give the world a lord;
My choice may fall on you, or on another,
In all things I'll assert my sovereign power,
But chiefly in this act.—Do you give orders
The princes and the magistrait assemble.
This day the offended gods shall be appeas'd,
But 'tis repentance only can disarm them;
And trust me, that remorse which you despise
Is the last virtue which the guilty boast.
You deem me weak and timid, but alas
Fear ever dwells with crimes. This very fear
Adds lustre to my crown—and 'twould become thee,
Humbling thyself, to deprecate Heaven's vengeance.

[Exit.

SCENE THE SEVENTH.

Manet ASSURES.
I must not wed Azema—for the Queen
Fixes on me to share her bed and throne.
What all my pains, join'd to our mutual crimes,
Could ne'er effect, behold an idle dream,
And an Egyptian oracle, bring forth!—
What power unknown directs the deeds of mortals!
What feeble springs act on our great designs!
Still must I doubt.—Once more I'll see the Queen,
Strive craftily to read her dark intents,
Watch all the secret workings of her soul,
And from her great resolves arrange my own.

[Exit.