University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

The Caliph's Palace.
Caliph—and Almansor's Page.
PAGE.
Caliph of Bagdad! thus Almansor speaks—
“Thy warriors, thy selected chiefs in arms
“Fled, ere I struck—come forth, and at my summons
“Before assembled Bagdad, bring my bride,
“The heiress of thy throne—

CALIPH.
From mortal arm
I may not hope deliverance—I obey—
Go—bid my daughter hither— (Page goes)
—gracious heav'n!
Thus at the close of life, when hoary hairs
Most claim due reverence:—at the weary close,
When, nature shrinking from the turmoil, seeks
Repose from worldly woe—now, must I crouch
At a proud conqueror's nod.— (Rezia and the Page enter.)

My child!—

REZIA
—(in sable robes.)
Oh speak.
Thou hast a daughter left—

CALIPH.
Alas my child!
These melancholy weeds that mark thy woe,
Will raise the tyrant's fury—hapless Rezia!
Array thyself once more in bridal robes—
Gems and resplendent ornaments must cast
Their blaze around thee, and supply the bloom
That grief has cankered in the cheek of youth.

REZIA.
Let me depart, and my sad life devote
To solitude and tears—I had not thought
To have expos'd my grief to human eye,
Nor to have breath'd in human ear the woe
That preys upon my heart—my father!

PAGE.
Caliph!
The impatient conqueror waits—He, who commands,
Brooks not delay—

CALIPH.
Let the stern victor rage—
I was not born to shake at earthly threat—
Ah! tho' imperial pride bow down before him,
Nature has higher claims—yet all I ask
Is but to shed a solitary tear
O'er a lov'd child— (to Rezia)
—To save a father's life
Could'st thou consent—

REZIA.
To sacrifice my own?
Most willingly—oh! I will smile on death
As on a gentle friend, whose sheltering arms
Sooth me, and still each pang of earthly grief—
Sweet comes o'er hopeless woe the call of death,
Like the lov'd voice of one whom dreams restore.
“Oh rest!” it whispers with assuasive breath,
“Rest in the silent spot with those that weep no more!”
Say, what my doom?

CALIPH.
Thou must in bridal robes
Meet stern Almansor.

REZIA.
Grieve not thus, my sire!
'Tis not these charms alone, 'tis empire tempts him.
Resign proud Asia's throne—Oh come with me,
And I will lead thee to some lonely spot
Where peace shall visit thee—oh, if thou wish
To sooth my sorow, let me lighten thine—
The spirit of o'erflowing tenderness
Shall steal thy woes away—and thou shalt sink
In heav'n's due time within thy daughter's arms,
As in a tranquil sleep—resign thy sceptre—
Peace be our lot!

PAGE.
Almansor claims thy hand—
The conqueror summons, where assembled Bagdad
Shall view the knight, that scorn'd Circassia's charms,
In flames expire—

REZIA.
That scorn'd Almansaris!
He dies in flames! Thou! whom my soul adores,
Rezia shall save thee— (to the Page)
—to Almansor haste,
If by all dreaded Mahomet he swear
To guard uninjured to his native realm
The stranger Knight; and fix on Asia's throne
My honor'd Sire— (gives him a ring)
—bring this, and I will wear it
As his connubial gift—else, death shall free me.

Exeunt.
SCENE changes to the Prison.
Huon and Eustace.
EUSTACE.
In sooth I found them hospitable ladies—
Sir, while those wonders blaz'd before your sight,
Gems, and gold walls, and lights that dimm'd the sun,
And bevys of gay girls that swept the lute,
And wanton'd in the labyrinth of the dance,
I was not left neglected—

HUON
—(to himself, regardless of Eustace.)
Still my soul!
Soon will this torture cease—

EUSTACE.
They spread before me
Viands, and wine that foam'd in golden flaggons;
And dainty damsels beckon'd me to banquet.
All bad me welcome: and they smil'd, like friends,
Familiar with my features—

HUON.
When I think
On each event, that, in the crouded compass
Of a few transient hours, has teem'd with wonders
Surpassing human credence, much I doubt
If truth, or vivid fancy formed the scene.
If truth, the heated brain o'er midnight bowls
Shapes not such fantasies—

EUSTACE.
Sir, feel you not
These ponderous chains? such metal, of this weight,
Was never forg'd in visions.

HUON.
Rezia, Rezia!
Was it a vision when this lip prest thine?
Thou too, my faithful friend! it grieves my soul,
I brought thee hither: I, alone, the cause
That death, mid torturing agonies, shall close
Thy course of honor—

EUSTACE.
Grieve not for old Eustace.
It quite unmans me—I had fain, indeed,
Have laid these bones beneath my native earth
With those, (heav'n bless them) who once sweetly smil'd,
When in their arms I lay a wimpering babe.
Such thoughts, yet more thy kindness, good my lord,
Force out these tears. Yet, after all, that spirit
Once seeming friendly—no, in sooth—I dare not;
Else, Sir, these iron cramps that bind me down,
And the foul air, and intercepted day
That thro' the net-work of yon grated loop-hole
Umbers our countenance with sickly hue:
These are sad tokens that the wily elf
But lur'd us to deceive—

HUON.
Distrust him not.
Superior pow'r o'er-rules him—Fairy king!
Tho' all the princely honors that enwreath'd
My cradled brow: tho' all that youth fair vison'd
Picturing fame's temple with heroic forms:
Tho' all the glorious deeds that grac'd my sires,
Each above each tow'ring in high desert:
Should vanish, with the memory of Huon,
Unknown, and unlamented—Fairy king!
No whisper of reproach shall stain my lip;
Nor death in torture shake my trust in heav'n,
Whose angel o'er the brow of innocence,
Extends his viewless shield—

SONG by an invisible spirit.
Tho' night-storms wildly rave
When rolls the wreck upon the tumbling wave:
Tho' from his viper hair
Death shake the spotted pest that taints the air:
He, who in heav'n has trust,
While worlds beneath him crumble into dust,
Looks with uplifted eyes,
Where hope her anchor rests, and points to opening skys.

HUON.
Heav'nly minstrel!
My strengthen'd spirit thanks thee—

EUSTACE.
Sir, the air
Was sweet: the voice and finger closely wedded,
And tho' I saw him not, my ear's not dull—
'Twas the same minstrel that did charm my cave.
Yet had th'invisible warbler at the close,
Hung round your neck the horn, and grac'd my hand
With the gold cup, the tune had mainly pleas'd—
Hark! heard you not?— (the sound of unbarring the prison is heard.)


HUON.
Along the vaulted cells
Some footstep echoes loud—and gleaming lights
Stream thro' the dungeon's depth—the ministers
Of death now claim us—oh that I alone
Might satiate their revenge, and thou, my friend,
Hadst ne'er beheld the face of Segŵin's son!

(Rezia, and attendants enter.
EUSTACE.
Sir, we can die but once—it is herself—
This is no minister of death.

HUON.
Oh form
Once visionary seen, and ne'er forgotten!
Thou! whom a fairy pencil highly wrought,
Yet with faint hue dishonor'd—

REZIA.
Thou art free—
Slaves! loose their chains—haste to thy native land!
There never be the name of Rezia heard:
There never more a vision of the night
Retrace her shade!—ah, no—when far away,
Ah let a tender thought, in happier hours,
Dwell on the fond remembrance of a maid,
Who, tho' she urge thee hence, with ceaseless tears
Will weep when thou art absent—

EUSTACE.
He forget thee!
No—were he tomb'd, and should some passing stranger
Chance unawares to whisper near his grave
The name of Rezia, his awaken'd spirit
Would rive the sepulchre.

HUON.
I leave thee here
To weep my absence! Life, without thee, Rezia,
Were agony beyond death's torturing flames—
No earthly pow'r shall part us—

REZIA.
Oh for ever farewell—I implore thee to leave me—
To a maiden more blest, far from Rezia remove,
Yet, clasp'd in her arms, Huon! say, nor deceive me,
Thou wilt shed on her bosom one tear for my love.
On my knees
I do beseech thee, hence—more dire than death
Horror will rack thy soul—oh! thou wilt loathe
Her whom thou lov'st—

HUON.
Hear me! heav'n-destin'd bride!

REZIA.
Thy bride! ah Huon!—

CALIPH.
enters.
Come, my child! away—
The time is past—this hand must lead thee forth—
Knight! thou art free—hence to thy native realm.
Fly from the misery thou hast caus'd.

HUON.
Oh speak—
Who, who has freed me?

CALIPH.
Rezia.

REZIA.
Ask no more—
Depart—or view me breathless at thy feet.

CALIPH.
Knight! to restore thee to thy native land,
And free a helpless sire from torturing death
This unexampled daughter—

REZIA.
Oh, my father!
If ere thy child was dear to thee, conceal it!

HUON.
Say, what the sacrifice?

CALIPH.
Virtue shall grave
In golden characters—“behold the Maid,
“Who for another's life, resign'd her own
“To voluntary woe”—I haste to give
To stern Almansor—

REZIA.
Oh!— (swoons)


HUON.
A breathless corse—
Sweet Rezia! soft—she breathes. Heav'n-plighted bride!
No earthly pow'r shall part us.

PAGE
enters.
Caliph! haste,
Almansor fiercely threatens—

HUON.
Tell him, slave!
That Rezia's plighted bridegroom, face to face,
Dares him in arms— (Page departs.)


REZIA.
Thou, whom my soul adores!
Rush not on death—he bears a charmed life.

HUON.
Went Fate before him with the scythe of death
Huon would fearless front him.

EUSTACE.
Look, my lord,
As I did cast my setters on the flints
They rattled on this rusty sword—no light one—
I am no scholar, Sir, but I do feel
Deep characters engraven on the blade.

HUON
—(takes the sword, and traces the characters.)
“I'm brother to Durandal, forg'd by Fays.”
Thanks, Oberon—

EUSTACE.
Aye, aye, no doubt, the Wood-god—

HUON.
Now, charms avail not—such as heav'n has form'd us,
We meet in equal combat, man to man.

PAGE
enters.
Sir Knight, Almansor speaks “bring forth the Christian,
“And I will deign to look on him.”

REZIA
—(as Huon goes forth.)
Oh Huon!
Rush not on death.

HUON.
Eustace, protect my bride!
Caliph! this arm shall fix thee on thy throne—
Come forth—

(Exeunt.
EUSTACE.
Oh do not weep so, gentle lady!
Each tear you shed, seems like a drop of blood
Wrung from my heart. I will not quit your side,
Tho' I had rather mid the shock of arms
Stand, while the clattering iron bruis'd my helm,
Than hear you sigh thus—have good heart, I pray you,
The Fairy is no changeling; no light worshipper
Of fortune's sun-shine hour: he'll not desert him:
No, nor his own right hand: 'tis Segŵin's son:
And these big giants oft have pigmy souls.
I've made them skip like infants— (a loud shout.)


REZIA.
Oh that shout!
Oh Huon! my lov'd Lord—

EUSTACE.
The welkin rings
With bursts of joy—the mountain is laid low.

CALIPH
enters.
Haste, Rezia, haste—the Knight has rescued us.
Come mid assembled Bagdad, where Almansor
Bows down before the conqueror.

EUSTACE.
Yes, I said it.
The mountain is laid low, and Segŵin's son
Equals his gallant sire.

(Exeunt.
SCENE changes to the great Square.
Huon—Almansor—Emirs—People.
PEOPLE.
Hail to the conqueror.

ALMANSOR
—(on his knee, delivering up his sword to Huon.
Christian! spare my life.

(Caliph, Rezia, and Eustace enter.)
HUON.
Kneel at the throne of Charlemaine, and say
I have aveng'd my sire— (Almansor departs.)


CALIPH.
What earthly gift
Can rightly thank thee?

PEOPLE.
Rezia, his reward.

CALIPH.
The hand of heav'n protects thee—take thy bride.

(The Scene opens and discovers the Palace of the Fairies adorned with festive splendor.
Oberon and Titania in bridal robes on their throne.
Groups of Fairies phantastically arrayed, dancing and playing on various instruments.)
They sing round Huon and Rezia.
All is fulfill'd—hail, Mortals, hail!
Truth, Virtue, Faith, o'er all prevail.

OBERON and TITANIA
—(taking the wreathes from their brows.)
Fays! crown them with these wreathes that bound our brow.

Fairies
crown them and sing.
Receive this wreath
Of amaranthine flow'rs by Fairy twin'd!
High meed for man assign'd—
These, on earth shall o'er you breathe
Bliss descending from above,
When virtue graves in heav'n the vow of wedded love.

OBERON
—(rising from his throne, and solemnly addressing Huon.
Knight! not thy fearless valor, not the sword
Of charmed steel, nor tone of fairy horn,
But confidence in heav'n alone preserv'd thee.
The destin'd time draws near, when elfine pow'rs
No more with mortal shall hold intercourse:
But while the world endures, the pure in heart,
They, who in time of trial, firmly stood
Fixt on the base of virtue, shall draw down
High succour from a source that ne'er shall fail.