University of Virginia Library

ACT THE THIRD.

An interval of Six Months.

Scene I.

—A portico of the Palace, with gardens at the back; Pyramids in distance.
Rachel discovered kneeling at Pahiroth's feet.
Pahir.
Rise, Rachel, rise; kneel not to me;
Heav'n is thy judge, not I. I pity thee,
And would assist in solacing thy woes.
But, first of all, Nitocris must be saved,
The tale of whose misfortune reach'd e'en me
Beyond the desert. By what miracle
Does she still live, although six months and more
Have now elapsed, since she was doom'd to die?

Rach.
The priests arraign'd her for a double crime:
First, treason 'gainst the monarch's sacred life
By th' agency of some base Arab slave,
But whom with all our search we've fail'd to find.
Next, casting shame upon her marriage-bed,
But whom she chose to be her paramour
We know not; nor, until our frenzied King
Regains his reason can the truth be known.
Hence the delay.—The Queen's in prison still.

Pahir.
Ah, sad reverse of fate! Unhappy Queen!
Tell me—have all her friends deserted her?

Rach.
They have. The rumour of her crimes has steel'd
All hearts against her; e'en her oldest friends
Who follow'd in her train from Syria—
Her childhood's home—have left her to her fate.

Pahir.
And you, the while, kept hid within your breast
The truth of all, when e'en a word from you
Would have released her from captivity!

Rach.
Oh, spare me! I am guilty, I confess;
But what I did was done unconsciously.
I heard vague rumours of a trait'rous plot—
A midnight interview—but knew no more.
And why? Osmandyas had sent me off;
Nay, more; he threaten'd, if I should reveal
The little that I knew, to slay my sire.
That menace seal'd my lips. But Heav'n, alas!
Has ta'en him from me, so I now may speak.

Pahir.
What meanest thou?

Rach.
(in an agony of sobs).
My father died last night;
I closed his eyes; and with his parting breath
He bless'd his child.

Pahir.
Poor girl!

Rach.
Why pity me?
My griefs are over; I am happy now.

Pahir.
Thou happy!

Rach.
Ay, Pahiroth, death is bliss!
Now I behold it near, and welcome it!

Pahir.
Nay, thou shalt live!

Rach.
Impossible! the laws
Of Egypt, and our country too, inflict
On crimes like mine the chastisement of death.
Except by poison, I cannot escape
The headsman's axe.

Pahir.
What! slay thyself, mad girl,
And quench the sacred fire sent down from high!

Rach.
Oh! pardon me, great seer—my brain's distraught.
But time wears on; these gloomy images
Dispel; and aid me to set free the Queen.

Pahir.
'Tis well; by saving her, thee, too, I'll save.

Rach.
And so before the world my shame expose!

Pahir.
That shall not be—but can I see the King?

Rach.
What would it profit if you did? Dost think
He'd listen to your words, or comprehend
Their meaning? No; his body, like his mind,
Is feeble as a child's; the least surprise
Might be his death. What is it you propose?

Enter Benassar, a Jewish attendant on the Queen.
Ben.
Fly, prophet, fly at once; Osmandyas
Has just return'd. (Rachel terrified.)


Pahir.
(To Rachel.)
Fear not, my child! (To Benassar.)
Dost know
The cause of his return?

Ben.
The priests to-day
Have sentence pass'd upon our hapless Queen.
He brings with him the warrant for her death.

Rach.
Her death!—great Heaven!

Pahir.
Hush! we shall save her yet—
'Tis not too late.

Ben.
(eagerly).
See, see! here comes the King—
His brother, too, who guides his tott'ring steps.
You must retire.

Pahir.
Benassar, of thy zeal
I'll ask for some new proof.

Ben.
Command me, then,
O learned seer, and thou shalt be obey'd.

Pahir.
'Tis well; conduct us hence, and thou shalt know,
Good friend, what service 'tis I claim of you.

[Exeunt.
Enter King, supported by Osmandyas and followed by Hophrah.
Osmand.
(to Hoph.)
Hophrah! my mind's resolved; this very day
The King shall name me to the realm his heir,
Excluding thus Nitocris from that throne and crown
She covets. Curses on her head! die she shall!

King.
Shepherd,—exclaim'd the stranger,—tell me this:—
What height is yonder, cover'd with the wreck
Of all-destructive Time? No plant or herb
Is seen to grow upon its arid sand,
While o'er its surface hideous vipers crawl;
Ill-omen'd spot! To whom the hind replied:—
Stranger, a monarch yonder buried lies.

Osmand.
Come, Sire; let not your soul yield up itself
To carking cares and melancholy thoughts.
Once more be king, and let Nitocris meet
The sentence she so richly has deserved:
At dawn to-morrow, you will be revenged
Upon the traitress.

Hoph.
(aside to Osmand.)
His mind, methinks, today
Is less distraught.

Osmand.
Yes, I shall now succeed.

King
(to himself).
To-morrow she's to die? So young, so fair;
'Tis pity. Yet we all are doom'd alike,
All travelling towards one point;
For life is but a respite brief from death.
Nay, further; she may die before me yet.

Osmand.
Nay, live, Sire, for your people's happiness:
The glory of your arms will keep a pow'r
Which in an infant's hands would fall to nought.

King.
A child! what meanest thou?

Osmand.
Nitocris' child,
Who's destined to succeed you on the throne,
That is, unless you exercise the right
You have of barring his inheritance.

King.
I've said already, he shall ne'er be king.

Osmand.
Take from him then all chance; and that
Will you effect by signing this (opens a roll)
, a will
Or edict, which declares, who on your death
Shall wield the sceptre, wear the diadem;
You understand!

King.
But whom am I to choose?

Osmand.
That were not hard: Rameses' lineage
Dies not with you; have you forgotten one,
A faithful friend; methinks he served you well?

King.
A friend! whom mean you? speak!

Osmand.
Your brother, Sire.
Against that choice what have you to allege?

King
(pushing aside the parchment impatiently).
Why weary me on such a topic? go!

Osmand.
By your past glories, I conjure you, King,
To save your empire from dismemberment,
By naming, as your heir, one of your blood.

King.
What is 't thou askest, to appoint thee heir
To Egypt's crown? No; on the worthiest
Let it descend.

Osmand.
Is that your brother?

King.
No!

Osmand.
Why treat me thus with scorn?

King.
Seek not to delve
Into my heart; enough is it for you,
That I would sooner any one were king
Than he.

Osmand.
You hate him then?

King.
The crown I wear
Would lose its lustre, being worn by him.

Osmand.
Is he not, like yourself, of regal birth?

King.
Just so; but he dishonours it.

Osmand.
In what?

King
(with energy).
To form new empires, what avails high birth?
'Tis courage, heroism, that wins the prize;
And he who aims at this ambitious task,
My troops have seen him, like a coward, fly!

Osmand.
(passionately).
Madman and fool, too soon will you find out
That I'm your master; (with threatening glance)
sign this edict;—quick!

King
(cowed, goes to table and signs it).
Nay, threaten not;—I've sign'd it: there it is!

[Gives it.
Osmand.
Here, Hophrah; take it, and through Memphis' streets
Proclaim the right it gives me to the crown.
Nitocris dead, there's no one 'tween the throne
And me, except a madman near his grave.
(To King, going close to him.)
To conquer's nothing; the true road to pow'r
Is by dissembling: you despised me, dolt,
Too much to fear me; 'tis that very pride,
Has proved your ruin. Like the forest-king,
You deem'd yourself invincible; yet I
Have, like a serpent, winding round its folds,
Destroy'd your power, even as he kill'd.
Come, Hophrah, follow me; our task's fulfill'd.

[Exit, followed by Hophrah. The King sinks down exhausted. Stage darkened: then enter Pahiroth slowly, led in by Benassar, who goes out, leaving a lamp on table.
Pahir.
(going up to the King).
Come; be yourself again; lean on this arm,
Prince, formerly so mighty, now so weak;
Look at me fearlessly, and listen too;
For I have that to say that will allay
Your grief, and balm distil into your heart.

King.
Music greets me in that prophetic voice.
Those eyes of gentleness illuminate
The darkness of my path?

Pahir.
I am, O King,
A messenger of mercy sent to you,
And bear aloft the olive-branch of peace.

King.
Mercy and peace! Those words have disappear'd
From human language. What has led you here?

Pahir.
I'm come to comfort you.

King.
Indeed! and why?
What interest, I ask, feel you in me?
Art wretched, like myself?

Pahir.
Accept my aid,
And I will save you. Have faith in him!

King
(trying to remember).
Where have I seen you? I've some vague idea.
Whence come you? What's your country?

Pahir.
Palestine.

King.
Ah, Palestine! a name that, 'spite myself,
Fills me with dread; because its people fear
A God whose laws, whose anger I've defied:
Canst tell me how he punishes, this God?

Pahir.
How he forgives, I can.

King.
Then intercede
For me, young man; for I am sure your pray'r
Will find an answer: yet you merited
A better fate; what led you here so far?

Pahir.
A father's cruelty.

King.
Had Heav'n vouchsafed
To me a son like you, so fair, so good,
I should have loved him, nay, been proud of him.

Pahir.
His own hand sign'd the edict for my death;
And so I fled.

King.
A father slay his son!
The monster!

Pahir.
I have not yet told you all—
My mother he suspected of a hideous crime.

King.
Great Heav'n! his sorrows have been heavy then.
But tell me, was he certain of her guilt?
What proof had he?

Pahir.
He thought he saw at night
Within a garden, 'neath a linden-tree
My mother seated; at her feet a slave.

King.
Ah, in a garden? Well, did he avenge
His injured honour, and dispatch the slave?

Pahir.
No, Sire; he fled, protected by the night.

King.
The partner of his crime was punish'd, though?

Pahir.
She will anon; her sentence is pronounced.

King.
What is it?

Pahir.
Death.

King.
A very just one too.

Pahir.
Nay, 'tis not; for my mother's innocent.

King.
Doubtless it is your duty as a son
To try to prove it.

Pahir.
And 'tis yours, as king,
To save her.

King.
What! when she's declared by law
To have defiled her bed; your father, too,
Eye-witness of her crime?

Pahir.
Unknown to him,
His eyes deceived him: he beheld her not.

King.
How know you that? what proof have you to give?

Pahir.
Another woman had assumed her guise,
Whom in the distance, 'mid the gloom of night,
And madly jealous, he mistook for her.
This lie, a traitor's villany confirm'd.

King
(aside).
What storm is this uprising in my soul
Thus unexpectedly; or is 't a dream?
(To Pahiroth.)
What tale is this you tell me of your sire?
Strange simile! It is my history
You've been recounting to me 'neath his name!
That any other could have suffer'd thus,
Exceeds belief. Oh, tell me—do, young man,
Of whom was it you spake?

Pahir.
Your heart can guess.

King.
How can it, cruel one, when reason's light
Is flick'ring in its socket, half extinct—
When gloomy visions float across my brain
Each instant, tangling hopelessly the thread
Of my ideas? My brain's bewilder'd, mazed!
[Reflects.
I know not if I comprehend aright
Your purpose;—but you possibly have come
To plead for pardon in the Queen's behalf.
If so,—blest be you, stranger, trebly blest,
For speaking of her! Oh, how I have long'd
To drink in comfort from her loving eyes,
But dared not ask to see the wretched one.
[Beckons to Pahiroth to approach.
(Whispering.)
I'll whisper now a secret in your ear:—
In spite of all her crimes, I love her still.
See her I will, too,—must, before she dies,—
To sob a last farewell. (Calling.)
What!—soldiers, ho!
Lead in your Queen.

Pahir.
(going to back and pointing).
Behold, she yonder stands!

[The stage, which was before quite dark, covered by a black curtain (which rises), is lighted up by the moon; and Rachel is seen, seated in the garden, under a linden-tree, clad in purple, and wearing a crown like the Queen's.
King
(after gazing, terrified, for some seconds).
Heav'ns!—it is she;—my wife!

Pahir.
Look—look again!
Yonder's the linden-tree, 'neath which she sat.
She sits there still,—as when with frenzied gaze
You look'd on her,—deceived, as you are now.

King
(violently).
Deceived, as I am now. 'Tis false, I say.
(Calling.)
Osmandyas, slaves,—on the traitress seize;
Seek, too, her paramour: his doom is seal'd!

[Furiously.
Pahir
(calmly).
Wait, Sire; be calm.

King
(furiously).
Who dares detain me,—who?

Pahir.
You will not punish, Sire, before you hear?
I'll lead her to you.

[Fetches Rachel, who is veiled. The King draws his sword.
King.
Where am I? The wretch!
Ah! Let me strike at her.

Pahir.
Behold!

[Rachel kneels before him unveiled.
King.
Great heav'ns!
'Tis not Nitocris!

Pahir.
No! She whom you see
Trembling there at your feet, is not the Queen,
But an unhappy girl, whose zeal for me
In trouble plunged her. It was her you saw
Busied in talk beneath the linden-tree:
For, yielding to the counsels of a fiend,
She thoughtlessly assumed the Queen's attire,
Not knowing what the traitor's object was,—
But simply purposing to save my life.
That purple robe—that veil—that diadem—
Caused the mistake—so fatal to the Queen.

Rach.
Pahiroth, Sire, has spoken but the truth.
Nor dare I ask for pity or forgiveness more.

King.
Speak,—speak again!—the accents of your voice,
Echo in my ear, are drops of reason.
Each word you utter, too, removes, methinks,
A portion of the load that weigh'd me down.
An unexpected calm succeeds the storm;
A welcome light has burst upon my sight.
[Looks eagerly at Rachel, as if remembering her suddenly.
(Pause.)
Ah, Rachel, it is you! I see,—I see:
'Twas madd'ning jealousy that blinded me.
Nitocris was not false;—she's innocent!

Pahir.
Well, then, prevent—

King.
Nay,—interrupt me not.
My joy's o'erflowing, and must have its course.
Can it be true? Joy inexpressible!
Shall I once more behold my wife,—my child?
Ah! what amends can I e'er make you both,
Having hated those I should have loved?
Support me;—help!—I totter—I shall fall.
[Falls into an Officer's arms.
(Pause.)
All's o'er, Pahiroth! This too sudden burst
Of happiness has been too strong a shock;
The torch of life at last is dying out.

Pahir.
Cheer up! My arm is nigh to break your chain.
Complete my work by setting free the Queen.
Forget not, Sire,—a sentence has been pass'd.

King.
A sentence!—ah, too true;—yon priests have doom'd
The Queen to death;—but will my brother then
Permit this base injustice?

Pahir.
He permit!
'Twas he who urged them to their bloody work.
His dark cabals, his dev'lish cunning, too,
Caused all Nitocris' sorrows. Come, haste on
And follow me, ere it's too late;—this way! (Is going.)


King.
Yes,—let us go! (Totters two or three paces, then stops and thinks.)
My brother, too, heap up
Such wrongs! (Goes slowly to back, then stops.)
Ah,—see you yon dark, threat'ning clouds?

Pahir.
Such dismal visions from your soul dispel!

King
(goes back, then stops, as if listening).
Ah,—hear you not i' th' air those heav'nly strains?

Pahir.
Nought can I hear,—except Nitocris' sobs,—
Whose bitter tears we're hast'ning now to dry.

[Gradually retiring at back.
Rach.
For me, alas,—nought's left, except to die.

[Falls despairingly on stage. Music.

Scene II.

—A Hall in the Pharaoh Palace; caryatides at back and sides; table, ottomans, etc. Curtain down at back.
Osmandyas seated on an ottoman, Hophrah standing near him.
Osmand.
Thus far has fortune, Hophrah, crown'd our plans;
But ne'er was vessel so near foundering
As ours. That cursed Pahiroth unappalled
By my severity sought out the King,
And roused his slumb'ring senses to the truth.
No matter!—he is punish'd! My commands
Have, doubtless, been obey'd.

Hophr.
They have, great prince;
But, ere we seal'd his prison-door, he cried:
“Ye deem your sov'reign dead; but he still lives,
“And will ere long accomplish mighty deeds;
“Yea, will awake to action in due time;”—
By some great miracle, methought, he meant.

Osmand.
(impatiently).
Psha! He is dead:—the priests pronounced him so:
And who would doubt their wondrous learning, pray?
His body,—mind you,— (with a meaning glance)
which, at their request,
I've handed o'er to them,— (tapping him on shoulder)
they'll answer for.
But tell me;—did Pahiroth speak these words
In other's presence, man, as well as yours?
Who heard this prophecy?

Hophr.
Pahiroth's dead:—
Besides the mutes, who seal'd his living grave,
And me, no witnesses were present, Prince.
Rachel, 'tis true, beheld us seize on him;
But poison has already done its work,
And still'd her voice eternally in death.

Osmand.
(with a malicious smile).
'Tis well:—one enemy more of mine is gone.
Ah! what is that? (Listens.)
Hark! hear you yonder buzz?
It is the sound of people gath'ring fast,—
Not to lament the conqueror they've lost,
The pride of Egypt and the ancient world,
But, while with feigned grief they gather round
His bier, in fact, to welcome ME—his heir.
Haste then: to meet them let us both repair.

[Exit.
[Curtain at back is drawn aside, disclosing a splendid scene; the King, as dead, laid out on a bier of purple, his arms grouped at the head of bier; behind is seen the entrance to the tomb of the Kings (beautifully engraved in colours. See Rossellini's folio work on Egypt. Antiquities), from which numerous Priests come out, bearing torches, symbolical staves, etc.; Mourners, Girls, etc.; Troops, Captives, etc., lining the stage, forming a magnificent spectacle (analog. to Sardanapalus. Costumes from Rossellini's and Wilkinson's ‘Ancient Egyptians.’) Music.
High Priest
(coming forward).
Priests, people, all; ye gallant warriors,
Whom once Rameses led to victory;
Ye captives too, who at his chariot-wheels
Waited in chains; see all that now remains
Of him so long the glory of the Nile,
The conqueror of the world, the king of kings;
With awe approach, and take one parting look,
In turns advancing near his royal bier,
While we to heav'n high raise our mournful strains,
Before in pomp we take it 'neath the gloom
And darkness of yon gorgeous regal tomb.

Dirge.
Recitative.
1st Jewish Maiden.
Hear ye, my dear sisters? dejected slaves
They ask to join their dirges at the grave
Of Egypt's sovereign. How can we bewail
The tyrant dread that held us in his thrall?
No; we'll deceive them. While they think our sighs
Are for the cruel tyrant, who there lies,
We'll for lost Rachel mourn, and, from our eyes,
For our lost of Sharon tears shall flow,
As at Rameses' bier, like slaves, we bow.

Priests.

Maidens.

Chorus.
Mourn people/virgins mourn, for great Rameses/Judah's maiden mourn,
And Egypt of its long-known glory shorn.
Mourn great Rameses, noblest of his/sainted Rachel, fairest of her race,
In glory/beauty peerless, as in grace.

[Just after its commencement, Osmandyas enters, followed by Hophrah, and takes his place, kneeling in pretended grief near the head of the bier.
Enter Nitocris, l. guarded.
High Priest
(after a pause, to the Queen).
Before these blest remains, yon holy tomb,
Destined so soon to hide within its walls
The corse of him you erewhile call'd your lord,
We now pronounce our sentence on you, Queen;
(Looking round)
And listen all, that ye may know we're just.
You've been accused—too many witnesses,
Alas, can prove it—of adultery:
Nay, e'en the King himself beheld his shame.
This being so, by Egypt's sov'reign law
(From which your regal rank exempts you not)
The penalty is—to be stoned to death;
Which sentence, when these mournful rites are o'er,
Shall be inflicted at your palace-gates.

Nitoc.
(terrified).
My child!—my child!—who will protect my child?

Osmand.
(coming forward).
I will vouchsafe his weakness to protect,
And train him to obey my sovereign will.
In some low calling, if he's wisely rear'd,
He'll soon forget the glories of the past,
Too happy never to have known the name
Of the unhappy one that gave him birth.

Nitoc.
(with dignity).
Ye priests who doom me to this hideous death,—
Ye people, too, in whose hearts I have liv'd,—
(To Osmand. sarcastically)
And you, too, prince,—so gen'rous, so humane,
Who thus insult your victim at HIS grave,
Whose happiness you've murder'd like my own:
I should with resignation meet my doom
Did it affect but me—nay, hail the fate
That reunites me to my sainted lord,
From whom in life foul slander sever'd me.
But, if I die, my hapless boy will lose
His last support:—my life is not my own,
For I should live for him; so Heaven decrees,
Ye priests, in spite of your inhuman laws.
Yes;—and from you to Heaven do I appeal, (kneels.)

And to Pahiroth's God. O Thou in Heaven,
Oh! save me—save me from these murderers' fangs!

[Thunder heard.
Osmand.
Hark to Heaven's answer, Queen! The thunder's voice
Declares the justice of thy punishment.
As for Pahiroth (sneeringly)
—him, the vaunted seer,
He's dead ere now—seal'd in a living tomb.
[Great sensation.
(After a pause)
Yes, priests, I acted rightly to avenge
Our monarch and our priesthood both contemn'd
By this audacious Jew. Well, let his God
Deliver, if he can, both him and thee!—
But why spend time in list'ning to her plaints?
Come, priests, lead in the bier, the sacred boat;
The vessels, too, bring in, and all due rites
Fulfil. (To an attendant.)
Give me this torch—I'll light you on.

[Is proceeding to back to entrance of the tomb of the Kings, when
Enter Pahiroth, meeting Osmandyas at back.
Pahir.
(stretching out his arm).
Hold, scoffer, hold!

[Osmand. falls back aghast.
Nitoc.
Pahiroth here again!

Ch. Priest.
Stupendous mystery! What! here alive,
When you declared yourself—

Osmand.
(dismayed and terror-stricken).
No, people, no,
'Tis not Pahiroth, but some fiend—some ghost—
That has assumed his visage and his voice.
Avaunt, cursed demon—back to hell, thy home!

Pahir.
I'm neither fiend nor ghost, but sent (pointing upwards)
from Heaven!
Here—touch my hand, Osmandyas! Scoffer!
[Holds out his hand, but Osmand. shrinks, affrighted.
Why shrink from me? Dost think this hand of mine
Grasps the avenging angel's fiery sword;
Or seest thou thy doom writ in my eyes?

Osmand.
Help, priests; support your fainting King!
[They support him. Pause. He recovers.
(Looking around.)
Hophrah has played me false.

Pahir.
No; he was true,
And did thy bidding to the letter, prince.
To Heaven, not him, owe I my liberty.
Priests—people—listen: they seal'd up my tomb,
Intending that of hunger I should die;
But I had faith in Him who bursts the bonds
Of death; and when I pray'd He answer'd me—
Unseal'd my prison-door, and set me free.

A Soldier
(coming forward).
I was, O King! a witness of th' event.

Ch. Priest.
Oh, wondrous mysteries of Providence!

Osmand.
(aside).
Strange!—very strange! (Pause.)
No matter; I'll secure
By cunning, if I can't by force, the crown
That now is mine. (To Pahir. coaxingly.)
Come hither, worthy seer.
I've been deceived: I own I've done thee wrong,
And will in compensation for the ills
I've done thee raise thee to high dignity.
Come here, Pahiroth; come and share my throne.

Pahir.
Prince, the rewards I look for are not thine
To offer; earthly honours have no charms
For me; my aspirations higher mount—
To Heaven! For thee, unhappy prince, despair!
The grave yawns for thee; Rachel beckons thee—
Thy outraged, murder'd victim—to the tomb!

Ch. Priest.
Shall we allow these insults to our King? (angrily.)


Pahir.
False priest, behold the issue of your work!
While you profess to read the will of Heaven
Among the stars, and in the victim-beasts
Slain upon your altars, you cannot read
The human face. Your King, ye said, was dead;
As such you've mourn'd him, too; but look again!
[Goes up to the bier, and beckons the Priest to draw near.
Death has not laid his stamp upon his brow;
He yet is warm; he's buried in a trance!
(To the King.)
Awake, Rameses, be thyself again,
With all thy strength, thy reason as of old;
Rise, and declare Nitocris' innocence;
Acknowledge, too, the God thou hast denied!

[The King rises, first sitting, looks round, astonished, etc.
King
(awakening).
Where am I?

Nitoc.
(astonished, then overjoyed).
What! my husband! still alive!

King.
Who calls me? (looks round.)


Nitoc.
I—Nitocris—I, thy wife!
[Goes to the bier and kneels, embracing the King.
To see thee living brings life back to me.
Would it could bring my honour back as well!

King
(rising indignantly).
Thy honour, love! who dares to question it?
Who dares accuse thee. Come, tell me all at once.
But stay. (Pause.)
The truth is dawning on my soul,
And, one by one, the scatter'd particles
Are crowding on my shatter'd memory.
My jealousy has wrong'd thee, I confess:
But pardon me, and ope again thy arms.
I'll tell thee all:—A female slave, O Queen,
The victim of a villain's arts, had donn'd
Thy regal dress. (Seeing Osmand. starts.)
Ah! there the traitor stands!
[Osmandyas falls at his feet.
Inhuman monster! Move him from my sight,
And let the punishment that he design'd
For others be imposed on him—the wretch!
Drag him forthwith to the sepulchral cave
In which Pahiroth was imprison'd, there
To be confin'd until he pine to death.

[Osmandyas is led off.
Pahir.
Thy enemies, O King, are all destroy'd;—
Behold thy subjects kneeling at thy feet.

King.
Thy pardon, too, Pahiroth, would I claim.
My sov'reign pride has justly had a fall;
And Heaven, at whose decrees I basely scoff'd,
Has vindicated His almighty pow'r.

Nitoc.
His majesty and glory let us sound,
Priests, princes, people, all the nations round.