Sadak And Kalasrade ; Or, The Waters of Oblivion A Romantic Opera, In Two Acts |
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Scene 1.
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 | Sadak And Kalasrade ; Or, The Waters of Oblivion |  |
Scene 1.
—An Arcade in the Gardens of the Caliph. Double Arches of gilt trellis-work, with gorgeous Plants trailing up them, and almost closing the inmost range of Arches A Chorus of Maidens with Gifts. A troop of Dancing GirlsChorus of Maidens.
Waken to pleasure,
Lady sweet!
Lo! an empire's treasure
Is spread at thy feet.
Here be shawls of Cachmere fine,
Rubies from Bucharia's mine,
The pear-shaped pearls of Oman's bay,
And gold mid Yemen's sands that lay.
Lady sweet!
Lo! an empire's treasure
Is spread at thy feet.
Here be shawls of Cachmere fine,
Rubies from Bucharia's mine,
The pear-shaped pearls of Oman's bay,
And gold mid Yemen's sands that lay.
Waken to pleasure,
Lady bright!
The dance's gay measure,
The song of delight;
The airy dance where glittering feet
Shake the belled anklets as they beat,
And airy songs, as light as they,
Where the merry voices sport and play
Lady bright!
The dance's gay measure,
The song of delight;
The airy dance where glittering feet
Shake the belled anklets as they beat,
And airy songs, as light as they,
Where the merry voices sport and play
A Dance, during which Zulema enters.
Zulema.
Be still kind maids! My joyless sister loathes
All sound of revelry. Once she was gay
As a young antelope amid the hills,
And beautiful as is the lotus flower
Floating above the waters; now she pines
As an imprisoned fawn, and fades and dies
Like a transplanted flower.
(Exeunt Maidens severally during the song)
Song, Zulema.
How beautiful the Lotos flower
Upon its native stream,
Where through the cool Acacia bower
The sun at noontide's fervid hour,
Scarce glanced his trembling beam.
Upon its native stream,
Where through the cool Acacia bower
The sun at noontide's fervid hour,
Scarce glanced his trembling beam.
But drooping now that Lotos flower,
Torn from it's native stream,
Far from the cool Acacia bower,
It languishes in noon's bright hour,
And withers in the beam.
Torn from it's native stream,
Far from the cool Acacia bower,
It languishes in noon's bright hour,
And withers in the beam.
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She comes.
Enter Kalasrade, followed by Amurath.
Kalasrade.
Pursue me not, bold man! Three days
At least are mine. Caliph, thy kingly word
Was pledged to leave me and my misery
In peace for one bright moon. And now thou drag'st me
From the pomegranate thicket's loneliest nook,
Where clustering orange trees do make at noontide
A twilight shade, thou drag'st me from that darkness
So like the tomb, into this sunny world
Of gaudy wretchedness. Away, away.
Amurath.
I could no longer live without the light
Of those fair eyes, my sun. Away from thee
I weary of my splendid destiny.
Song, Amurath.
What are those signs of regal sway,
That mortals envy and obey?
The throne, a strait uneasy couch
Of hard and ponderous gold;
The sceptre palsying to the touch,
Stern, heavy, dull, and cold.
The crown, beneath whose glittering round,
The tightened temples throb and bound;
What are they all but shining pains,
Enamelled fetters, jewelled chains.
That mortals envy and obey?
The throne, a strait uneasy couch
Of hard and ponderous gold;
The sceptre palsying to the touch,
Stern, heavy, dull, and cold.
The crown, beneath whose glittering round,
The tightened temples throb and bound;
What are they all but shining pains,
Enamelled fetters, jewelled chains.
A wealthier monarch I would be;
Lord of a nobler treasury;
My richest diamonds I would seek
In those dark dewy eyes;
My rubies in the blushing cheek
Which shames their orient dyes.
The pageantries and toys of power,
Shew dim beside love's myrtle bower;
I'd yield them all, state, sceptre, throne,
To call young Kalasrade mine own.
Lord of a nobler treasury;
My richest diamonds I would seek
In those dark dewy eyes;
My rubies in the blushing cheek
Which shames their orient dyes.
The pageantries and toys of power,
Shew dim beside love's myrtle bower;
I'd yield them all, state, sceptre, throne,
To call young Kalasrade mine own.
Kalasrade.
That hour shall never come.
Amurath.
Nay, in three days
Thou wilt be mine.
Kalasrade,
Is Sadak dead? Hast heard
That he is dead?
Amurath.
No tidings have arrived
Of him or of his vessel. When ye parted
(I speak it in his honour) he dispersed
And quieted the murmuring soldiery,
Who had followed for thy rescue; then embarked
On board a gallant ship. But he went forth
To certain death. The bow string or the block
Were not a surer fate.
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And I that loved him
Better than life—I was the fatal cause
Of this so fatal voyage. Yet why despair,
Till those three days be ended. I have faith
In that sweet music of the air; high faith
In him and in his righteous purpose. No,
I'll not despair.
Duet, Amurath and Kalasrade.
Kalasrade.
One trembling hope remains to cheer
My throbbing heart amidst it's fear;
Trembling, yet strong as woman's trust,
And our thrice holy cause and just
Amurath.
One lingering hope remains to cheer
Thy trembling heart amidst its fear,
Ah! lovely lady, thou wilt rue
That fear unkind, that hope untrue.
Kalasrade.
If fail that hope, then, tyrant, know
The enduring might of woman's woe;
Content all tortures to abide,
Rather than reign the Caliph's bride.
Amurath.
Yes, when arrives the fatal hour,
Proud beauty, thou shalt own my power;
Yes, in that hour, whate'er betide,
I'll bear thee hence the Caliph's bride.
[Exeunt.
| Sadak And Kalasrade ; Or, The Waters of Oblivion | |