 | The Prophet's Curse |  |
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
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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.
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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.
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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.
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(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?
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(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!
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(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,
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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.
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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?
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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For me, alas,—nought's left, except to die.
[Falls despairingly on stage. Music.
| The Prophet's Curse | |