University of Virginia Library

ACT THIRD.

AFRICA.
Aladdin lying in a large garden asleep under an apple-tree, with the beams of the rising sun shining upon him. A palace in the background. The tree is full of twittering birds. Zephyr and Lympha sporting upon the grass.
Zephyr.
With the richest fragrance of rosy bowers
I have steeped his senses, and soothed his pain.

Lympha.
With the diamond dew of the morning showers
I have cooled the fire in his fevered brain.

Birds.
Blithely and gay, from spray to spray,
We have leapt and have warbled all through the night;
Now his task half done, and the goal half won,
His reason returns, and his soul is bright.
Then, courage, Aladdin! thy bride is found,
Thy soul's desire thou shalt quickly see;
And lightly thy heart in thy breast shall bound,
And thou shalt be happy and blest as we!

Aladdin
(awakes).
How blithe the carol of the gamesome birds,
How sweet the fragrance the young grass exhales!
What do I see? My palace! Heaven and earth!
I am in Africa! 'Tis not a dream!
In yonder arbour sits my love, my wife,
Sad, silent, pale, with tears upon her cheeks!
Good! Yet I'm still in the magician's power.
Let prudence guide thy footsteps, sacred love!
(He wraps himself in his old cloak, conceals his face with his turban, and advances to Gulnare with the tottering steps of an old man.)
Allah protect thee, lady!

Gulnare
(wiping the tears from her eyes).
Thanks, old man!

Aladdin.
You look so very sad, is aught amiss?

Gulnare
(sighing, and half aside).
Oh, all, alas!

Aladdin
(looking carefully round).
Tell me, dear lady, where
Is he that owns this palace? Is he within?

Gulnare.
He is from home, but will return to-morrow.

Aladdin.
Ha, now I see the reason you are sad.

Gulnare.
Not so, old man.

Aladdin.
'Tis well you are alone.
You're of a soft and gentle-hearted race;
Your heart's more prone to pity than a man's.
A poor old pilgrim I; give me an alms,
To help me on my road.

Gulnare.
(Offers him money.)
Take this, my friend.

Aladdin.
No, dearest lady, take your money back.
'Tis past the power of dross to help me now.

Gulnare.
Would you have wherewithal to break your fast?
Go in there to the kitchen, and the cook
Will give you viands to your heart's content.

Aladdin.
I thank thee, lady, no. I am not hungry.

Gulnare.
Art thirsty, then?

Aladdin.
That is more near the mark.

Gulnare.
Go to the cellar, and the cellarer
Will help you freely to the best of wine.
Here I have nothing to assuage your thirst.

Aladdin.
Believe me, lady, that concerns me not.
Nor cook nor cellarer can serve my turn;
You, you yourself must be my caterer,
Else must I pine and sink.

Gulnare.
I? How can I
Be helpful to you?

Aladdin.
With a kiss—a kiss!

Gulnare.
How! Are you mad?

Aladdin.
Nay, prithee, be not wroth.
I never could have fancied, that you were
So true to the magician and so fond.

Gulnare.
Who art thou?

Aladdin.
Now you cannot be untrue
To your Aladdin; he has lost his head.

Gulnare.
Oh Allah! (Is about to faint.)


Aladdin.
But has come by it again;
And, oh my own heart's darling, he is here!

(Throws off his cloak.)
Gulnare
(falls upon his breast).
Oh ye kind heavens! Belovèd of my heart!

Aladdin
(embraces her).
Wilt thou still send me to thy kitchen, eh?

Gulnare.
Aladdin, my soul's joy!

Aladdin.
Then kiss me, love!

Gulnare.
A thousand thousand times.

Aladdin.
My darling bride!

(While they converse, the birds sing.)
Chorus.
By a sudden parting blighted,
On a sudden reunited;
Oh, of all joys 'tis most sweet,
When long-parted lovers meet.

Male Bird.
When last we came here, love,
The tree was forsaken;
Not a sound met the ear, love,
Its hush to awaken.
The North's icy bolt
Sped my pinions, and, panting,
I sought this green holt,
This Eden enchanting.
And thou, as I flew,
Didst meet, and wert by me;
I swept on, nor knew
Such a sweet mate was nigh me.
My heart was so drear!
And, in passionate longing,
My voice rang out clear.
Shepherd maidens came thronging
To hear it; and they,
Unaccustomed to languish,
Never wist that my lay
Was the cry of my anguish.

Female Bird.
Oh, I remember well the time!
'Twas when from north to southern clime
The birds with ringing music passed
Of fife and flute in concourse vast.
There many a race commingling flew—
Teut, Longobard, and Cimbrian too.
Goldwing sought wildly far and nigh,
Because her mate she could not spy;
And as she did not find him there,
She vanished suddenly in air.
She would not pause, she would not rest,
But flew and fluttered east and west,
And thought, He is not in the tree—
Alas! he'll ne'er be found by me!

He.
And then it was I found thee, too!

She.
Oh, then our life, how blithe it flew!

Both.
The leaves of spring-time, greenly spread,
Became our second bridal bed.

Chorus.
By a sudden parting blighted,
On a sudden reunited;
Oh, of all joys 'tis most sweet,
When long-parted lovers meet.

Gulnare.
Ah, my Aladdin! Vain thy hopes, I fear.
The lamp is still in the magician's hands.
He bears it with him, folded on his breast,
And never parts with it. How oft has he
Held it before my eyes in fiendish scorn,
How oft essayed to make me hate thee, sweet!
Whene'er he is at home, it is his wont
To load me with his hateful shows of love,
And try to win an answer to his passion.
Till now my grief and scorn have kept him off;
But oh, how long, my love, will this endure?

Aladdin.
Rest thee at ease! The trustiest of thy maids
Shall by the secret entrance let me out.
The town, thou say'st, is distant scarce a league;
And with a powder I will straight return,
Shall be a swift death-warrant to the wretch.
Go deck thee in thy best, and let him think,
When he returns, thy heart begins to melt,
And that thou fain wouldst fascinate his eyes.
Farewell a little while, my own sweet love!
Chase every fear away, and trust to me!

Gulnare.
To thee restored, I cast all fear aside.

[Exeunt.
Chorus.
By a sudden parting blighted,
On a sudden reunited;
Oh, of all joys 'tis most sweet,
When long-parted lovers meet.

Apothecary's Shop.
Apothecary. Aladdin in his old cloak.
Aladdin
(at the door).
Oh bliss of blisses, to have found my love,
And 'scaped the clutches of impending death!
Yes, I shall hurl her tyrant from his throne.
The clear bright spring-time dances through my blood,
And all my boyhood's gamesomeness comes back.
See yonder silly druggist, how he stands
The picture of an overblown conceit!
Necessity commands me to employ
Fell poison's deadly chalice. Be it so!
But since 'tis stern necessity commands,
Since virtue needs must come to grips with vice,
Banter and whim, as music does in war,
Shall drown the wail and anguish of the fray.
(Enters.)
Good friend, I'd wager me a trifle now,
You are the owner of this shop himself.

Apothecary.
And who may you be, pray, that crow so loud?

Aladdin.
I've just arrived from Alexandria.
I clean the boots, or to be more precise,
The slippers of a great philosopher.

Apothecary.
What want you?

Aladdin.
Friend, canst read?

Apothecary.
Scarce were I else
A pharmacopolist.

Aladdin.
Canst read, I mean,
Words fairly out and out? Apothecaries
Never go farther in the common way,
Than bare first syllables. That more than these
Are never seen upon their boxes, friend,
Has shortened many an honest fellow's days.

Apothecary.
And who are you, that in your rusty cloak
Dare thus insult me with such saucy quips?
In my own shop I'll have fair words, I say.

Aladdin.
Fair words, 'tis my vocation; for my master
Is a grammarian. Don't he teach me, friend,
To trim and give a polish to my speech!
But if you really can read, if all
Your talk be not mere vapouring, and flam,
Give me what's writ on this prescription here.

Apothecary
(looking at the prescription).
What do I see? You want this powder, this?

Aladdin.
And that forthwith! Don't keep me waiting. Come!

Apothecary.
The foul fiend fly away with you, say I.

Aladdin.
The first of hucksters thou, that ever sent
A customer to the devil.

Apothecary.
No huckster I;
And you, you are no customer.

Aladdin.
What, then,
May your vocation be? No huckster, eh?
What are you, then?

Apothecary.
A leech of skill, an artist,
A pharmacopolist, a man of science,
A doctor, a mediciner at least.

Aladdin.
And who am I?

Apothecary.
A miserable knave;
Hast thou the money for such gear to pay?
A drug so rare, and of such potency?
What wouldst thou with it? It is poison. Wouldst thou
Poison thyself?

Aladdin.
Myself? No—other folks.

Apothecary.
How, other folks? Better and better still.
Come with me to the Cadi.

Aladdin.
Hark ye, friend!
I have a word of counsel for your ear.

Apothecary.
Counsel for me?

Aladdin.
Always hear people out,
Before you judge.

Apothecary.
You're bent on poisoning?
Did you not say as much? If 'twere yourself,
It would not matter much. But other folks—
That was the word, and said without a blush!
And pray, sir, who may these same others be?
A pretty scrape you'd land me in! But whom
Would you send post-haste to the realms of shades?
Whom? Answer!

Aladdin.
Flies.

Apothecary.
Flies?

Aladdin.
Wasps.

Apothecary.
Wasps?

Aladdin.
Gadflies! Hm!

Apothecary.
Kill gadflies with a powder of such price?

Aladdin.
Tush, man, I'm better off than you suppose.
It will not put me very much about,
To treat my flies to something savoury.

(Gives him a gold coin.)
Apothecary
(very courteously).
This puts the case in quite another light.
(Aside.)
Outside the man is rather rough, no doubt;
But he's a proper fellow at the core.
(Aloud.)
That's quite another matter. Ah, dear sir,
You're not offended at my hasty words?
One must be circumspect with things like these;
One's bound to have a kind of conscience, eh?

Aladdin.
Spoke like an oracle. But tell me, friend,
Suppose I'd kill a fly now handsomely,
How much of this will do the business?

Apothecary.
That
Stands in a mathematical relation, sir,
If one may say so, to the insect's size.
Suppose it be, say, of the common sort,
In sugared water drop the veriest grain,
And you will slay them by the thousand, as
With ass's jawbone Samson slew his foes.

(Hands him the powder.)
Aladdin
(puts it in his pocket).
But how, pray, if the fly were of your size?

Apothecary.
How? My size? There, you're at your quips again!
You have some mischief in your thoughts, I swear.
As big as me? Almighty Prophet, why,
The biggest horse-fly's not so big as that.

Aladdin.
You have a shrewd wit of your own, 'tis clear.
I do protest, 'tis flies I mean to kill:
But as they're lodged within a mortal's head,
I must convey the powder through his lips.

Apothecary.
Now, by the Prophet's grave, I'll give the alarm!

Aladdin.
Indeed you won't. You've wit enough to see,
How easy 'twere for me to stop your mouth,
Should it grow clamorous, by a knockdown blow,
Or by this powder flirted down your throat.

Apothecary.
A murrain on thee for a murderous knave!
Go! kill whome'er you please, I care not,—go,
Kill flies, wasps, gadflies, gnats, philosophers,
Men and mosquitoes, anything you will,
So you but spare myself, my wife, and Hassan,
My little pet, my bandy-leggèd boy.

Aladdin.
Soh!—Fare ye well. 'Tis but a jest, you know,
A harmless jest,—no more. So be at ease.

[Exit.
Apothecary
(looking after him).
Who knows now what a rogue like this may do?
But he paid handsomely, and promptly too.
One must wink hard, and pocket many a slight,
Who would not lose his customers outright.

Aladdin's Palace.
Gulnare. Her Nurse.
Gulnare.
Have you concealed Aladdin carefully?

Nurse.
Yes, yes! He's yonder in the cabinet,
Which opens right on the great banquet hall.
There he can overhear each word that's said,
And at the proper time disclose himself.

Gulnare.
I scarce can draw my breath for very fear.

Nurse.
You must not take on so. Be merry, child!
What matters it to kill a wretch like this?
Courage, and let me see you pay him off,
The lean and livid scarecrow, for the trick
He played on you, through me, that luckless day.
The table's spread in the great hall; and when
He comes, you must to supper welcome him—
The last, I hope, that he shall ever eat,
So you but manage craftily to drug
The golden goblet whence he quaffs his wine.

Gulnare.
Ah, Hadscha, 'tis a dark and desperate deed.

Nurse.
And what alternative is left thee? None.
Wouldst have him spoil thee of thine honour, say?
Wouldst see Aladdin fall in shameful death,
And let thy poor old father die for grief?

Gulnare.
No, Hadscha, sooner shall the sorcerer die.

Nurse.
And 'tis but right he should. From garden-plots
We root out weeds, wild beasts we hunt and kill;
And why, then, make exception of a man,
Who has a free will and a reasoning soul?
Fear not, and, mark me, do not spare the powder;
In with it all, and shake the goblet well!
For, look ye, child, that he may not observe
The colour of the powder in the wine,
I've set large golden goblets on the table,
And shut the common ones of glass away.
The sorcerer will be all on fire with love,
When he beholds thee in this brave array.
Dear child, of all the women whom my eyes
Have looked on, thou art loveliest by far!
Good lack, my milk has thriven with thee indeed!
How charmingly the satin's glossy white
Clings round thy undulating form! How close
The diamond boddice clips thy slender waist,
Which these twin dainty hills so sweetly crown!
My darling, if you only spice these charms
With just the smallest grain of tenderness,
You will so dazzle the magician's eyes,
He'll rush like any moth into the flame.

[They go in.
Cabinet.
Suits of dresses hung round the walls.
Aladdin.
As lucky chance has led me unawares
To my own wardrobe, I will have my whim;
(rummages among the dresses.)
Here it is, pat—yes, here the very dress,
Noureddin, when he played the uncle, gave me.
I'll put it on. Here is the turban, too.
A wondrous smart and showy piece of goods.
(Puts on the dress.)
I will appear before him in this garb,
When he has drained the goblet drugged with death,
That he thereon may call his sins to mind,
Nor end his life of worthlessness, without
Some stirrings of remorse. Oh mighty Allah!
Shall I succeed? The Moor with far less risk
Destroys the hooded snake, than I this fiend.
No deadlier evil can befal the world,
Than that the lamp should be a miscreant's slave.
(Contemplates his ring.)
Oh ring! Thou art my one sole comfort left.
How could he so forget thee utterly!
'Twas Heaven's own work, that still leaves some escape
For innocence, where wickedness pursues.
Shall I succeed? This doubt the ring shall solve.

(Strikes the ring against the wall.)
The Spirit of the Ring
(appears).
What wants my lord and master?

Aladdin.
Nothing! Hush!
Dear Spirit, nothing do I wish to know.
It was a foolish, inconsiderate fancy,
Which made me wish to ask thee of my fate.
All things are known to thee, and I desired
To know beforehand, how my plan will thrive.
But answer not, dear Spirit!—What is life,
If all be of necessity foredoomed?

Spirit.
That which I know not, will I not disclose.

Aladdin.
Canst thou not, then, discover all events?

Spirit.
The past I can, and those in progress now.

Aladdin.
Thou read'st not, then, the Future's mighty Book?

Spirit.
Yes, for 'tis mirrored in the storied past.
He that knows well the seed, and well the soil,
The harvest's chances well can calculate.

Aladdin.
Then speak! What dost thou prophesy for me?

Spirit.

Great Hall.
Gulnare. Noureddin (at table).
Gulnare.
This dish is better still—taste it, my lord.

Noureddin
(graciously after his fashion).
No epicure am I, divine Gulnare.
Of all tidbits there's one, and only one,
I've ever coveted,—thee, thee, my sweet!
I am a sage, deep skilled in life and lore;
All nature's book I've studied leaf by leaf:
Mine is a spirit subtle, brisk, and fine,
That spreads, like dew, o'er every blossoming flower.
Love, only love, I ne'er have known till now.
Feel how my heart beats; new and strange delight!
How could you be unkind to me so long?

Gulnare.
You know, 'tis no light thing to conquer grief,
And take a new affection to the heart.

Noureddin.
I know, I know, my queen, I know it well;
I know whatever mortal man can know.
By Nature I was framed for mighty ends;
Gifts has she lent me, various and bright,
That are for wisdom most essential.
Thus, as a child, my memory was great,
And so it was that I was plagued with worms;
I could not therefore play with other children—
Was peevish, sickly, sat apart, and learned
To run up calculations on my slate,
While other boys were scampering up and down,
Fighting, and gazing at the moon and flowers.
Well, when I grew up into years—that is,
Had fairly worn my childish buskins out;
(For, in the common way of speaking, I
Did not shoot up remarkably in height;)
You understand me?

Gulnare.
Quite! In body you
Are rather small and lanky.

Noureddin.
To proceed!
As years went on, they fain had tempted me,
To go a-cruising after wives and maids;
But I was much too well-behaved for that:
Besides, I had no liking for such freaks.
Then, for carousing with your madcap youths,
That, too, I fancied not; for, firstly, I
Had a poor stomach, and wine heats the blood;
Praised be the Prophet, who forbids it quite.
But still my wisdom ripened hour by hour,
Through many a wakeful night, to such a pass,
That I discovered there was in the world
A lamp, which with its rays doth vivify
All objects that within its radiance come,
And, wanting which, all else is valueless.
For this I struggled through unresting years,
And at the last I gained it, as thou know'st.

Gulnare.
Indeed I do.

Noureddin.
Therefore, my love, will I
From this hour forth enjoy my life at ease.
Till now I've dealt but little with the sex,
For objects of an import greater far
Enthralled and fill'd my spirit with content.
In deep investigations all engrossed,
I have not learned the chamberer's dainty arts.
My tongue's unused to amorous discourse;
And the long wakeful nights of many years
Have bleached away the roses from my cheeks.
Yet weak I am not. Of an evening, now,
I can enjoy a supper, such as this,
That's easy of digestion; for, as I said,
My stomach's not the strongest. Men, like me
Who do not move about much, must observe
Discretion and restraint in all they do.

Gulnare.
Oh paragon of wisdom!

Noureddin.
My dear child,
Wisdom directs and seasons all my speech;
And this is what you've not been used to—eh?—
With yonder dull-brained, gormandizing knave.

Gulnare.
But to be merry now and then is well.

Noureddin.
Oh yes! In moderate doses—most minute.
I hate all mirth, as I do spice, for that
Inflames the blood, destroys digestion;
But if your mirth be of the stinging sort—
A poisoned bolus, delicately dressed,
For some conceited, tiresome fool to gulp,—.
I don't object to it; but mere wanton mirth,
I loathe it, as a full-grown man does pap.

Gulnare.
You like your jesting serious. I'm a woman,
In matters of the kitchen only skilled;
But even in the kitchen, now and then,
The pot boils over, when the fire's too fierce.
The same, perhaps, may chance with wit at times.

Noureddin.
Wit's wit, and not a pot; your pot's absurd:
Your boiling over will not do!

Gulnare.
I know,
'Tis always bad; yet will the dish be spoiled,
Unless that point be very closely touched.

Noureddin.
My child, the world is not a kitchen, nor
The soul a dish: the simile don't fit,—
It has no philosophic pertinence;
And, measured by the true poetic scale,
'Tis in vile taste, ignoble; I can see,
'Tis altogether in the Arabian style.
Art thou a Persian, and canst condescend
To taint thy lips with such low metaphors?

Gulnare.
The metaphor, methinks, is striking.

Noureddin.
If
A rascal lays a cudgel on my shoulders,
He's striking, too. An image should be noble.
And, by the way, I do remember me,
To have read in some Arabian, how a king's—
Yea, a king's ghost, did thus address his son:
“Were I to tell thee all, oh, it would make
The hair upon thy head to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine!”
Could not the knave have said, a lion's mane?
Or even a hyena's? or a serpent's crest?
I see, thou lack'st some training at my hand.

Gulnare.
Most willingly will I be trained by thee.
This tiny morsel more?

Noureddin.
My angel, no!
If I eat more, I shall not sleep; and all
My life I've set great store on good night's rest.

Gulnare.
Ah, it grows late! How dark the sky is!—look!
And oh, so full of stars!

Noureddin.
By night alone
Do these stars shine; but thou, my child, hast two,
Which sweetly shine on me both day and night.

Gulnare.
You flatter me.

Noureddin.
There is a time for all things,
Says Solomon. I am a suitor now;
But once I am thy husband, I will cease
To deal in such-like tropes and similes,
Which are but idle folly after all.
I only speak so now, that thou may'st know,
I am as capable, as other men,
Of saying pretty nothings, if I please.

Gulnare.
Know'st thou the name of yonder fiery star?

Noureddin.
Ah, now-a-days I cannot see so well.
Study has made sad havoc with my sight.
But patience! I will fortify my eye.
Where was it? Tell me. Which star do you mean?

Gulnare.
The red one there, right o'er the apple-tree.
[While Noureddin looks at the star through his telescope, Gulnare drops the poisonous powder into her goblet.
(Aside.)
Necessity, be thou my plea with Heaven!

Noureddin.
Dost thou not know the dog-star, child? Art thou
Entirely ignorant about the stars?

Gulnare.
It gladdens me to see them twinkling so,
Like choicest flowers in some rare garden-plot:
Their piercing looks deter man's soul from crime,
To which the murky night would urge him on,
And threaten him, if he sins, with eyes of flame.

Noureddin.
Mere superstition! What I meant was this:
Doth it not fill thee with delight, to know
The name of every star, and to foretel
Where in the sky, when night comes, it will shine?

Gulnare.
No, such a notion never crossed my brain.
And is it true, then, all these stars have names?

Noureddin.
Most part of them, my child, most part of them.
The Milky Way, though, that's unnamed; but there
Allah has made sad muddled work of it.
But time mends all, and we improve apace.

Gulnare.
And so the star up yonder is the dog-star?

Noureddin.
Yes, and that is my star; beneath that star
Was I brought forth.

Gulnare.
You do not say so? Strange!
I've heard it said, the stars have influence
Upon the lives of mortals. Is that true?

Noureddin.
Hum! One can't altogether say 'tis not.

Gulnare.
Most wonderful! But what am I about,
Here, like a fool, concerning me with things,
I do not comprehend the very least?

Noureddin.
Speak always, child, as sensibly, 'twill make thee
A great deal more attractive in my eyes,
Than hitherto thou hast been.

Gulnare.
Oh, my lord,
Since matters have advanced so far between us,
I will no longer coyly hesitate,
After our Persian fashion, to exchange
The spousal cup with thee. But, gracious Heaven,
I am no widow, no; my husband lives,
And how, how can I break my troth to him?

Noureddin.
To ease these qualms of conscience, I will straight
Command the Spirit of the Lamp to cut
Aladdin's head off, and to bring it here
Upon a silver salver presently.

Gulnare.
For Heaven's sake, no! Do that, and here I vow,
Down at thy feet to fall, a lifeless corpse.

Noureddin.
Thou lovest him still?

Gulnare.
Ah no, I don't indeed.

Noureddin.
Thou lovest him still? Ha, traitress, 'tis right well,
Thou hast recalled the caitiff to my mind!
Yes, he shall die at once; for, while he lives,
Thy thoughts are full of treachery to me.

Gulnare
(snatching up a knife from the table).
By Heaven, I plunge this knife into my breast,
The moment that your finger grasps the lamp!

Noureddin.
(Aside.)
She loves him; he shall die this very night.
But she shall live; I will possess her; thus
Upon that churl shall I be oft avenged.
(Aloud.)
Thou lovest me, then?

Gulnare.
So fondly, I exchange
This cup with thee in token of my love.

Noureddin.
That's spoken as it should be, sweet Gulnare!
This loving goblet drained, then thou art mine;
I shall possess thee wholly, and to-night.

Gulnare.
This night shalt thou beside thy bride be laid,
So thou shalt quaff this cup.

Noureddin.
I quaff it now;
The last drop in its rim shall seal the bond.
(Empties the goblet, while Gulnare, clasping her hands, looks up to heaven.
Why dost thou stare so strangely at the sky?

Gulnare.
The red dog-star has lost his sanguine hue,
Shines silvery pale, and dies away in mist.

Noureddin.
Gulnare, I'm ill—I feel a sudden spasm.

Gulnare.
The pale-faced bride doth clasp thee to her breast.

Noureddin.
I've lost the power of motion; all grows dark
Around me, and a fierce consuming fire
Burns in my vitals!
(The door opens gently; Aladdin enters, goes up to him, and gazes on him in silence.)
Death and hell! Thou here!
Aladdin? (tries to take the lamp from his bosom, but his hand drops powerless.)

Devil! thou hast poisoned me!

Aladdin
(with emotion, yet calmly).
What else was left for me to do? Oh, pray
To God—ay, with your latest breath—to grant
Forgiveness for your sins. You wronged me deeply.
What was I but a poor defenceless boy,
Nought but my young fresh life to call mine own
In all this mighty world? And this wouldst thou
Have blasted for thy vile ambition's sake.
But Fate had better things in store for me;
The mischief thou didst plot against me, lo,
Has turned to my advantage. Yet again
To crush my life thou craftily didst come.
My mother's dead of grief, and thou the cause—
And now thou'dst blur my innocent bride with shame.
'Tis everlasting Justice, and not I,
That smites thee. Pray! Die penitent, at least!

Noureddin.
Curses on thee, thy God, and all the world!

(Dies.)
Gulnare.
Great Heaven, he's dead!

Aladdin
(takes the lamp from his breast, and flings a black cloth over him).
And vanished out of sight.
My noble wife, away now to thy chamber,
And thank God for the mercies of His grace!
Soon shalt thou see thy father's face again.
But get thee first to bed, and sleep in peace.

Gulnare.
Sleep now? Sleep, oh my soul's belovèd! No!
Yet gladly will I pray all through the night,
Till the bright dawn shall smile on us once more.

[Exit.
(Aladdin rubs the lamp.)
The Spirit
(appearing).
What asks my lord and master?

Aladdin.
Giant, strong and proud,
Within the womb of earth this ghastly carcase shroud;
Next, approve thyself both dexterous and bold,
And place this palace where it wont to stand of old.

Spirit.
As swiftly shall I compass all that thou dost name,
As shoots across the night a meteor's sudden flame.

Aladdin.
Thou didst not think, good Spirit, so soon to see the hour,
Which was to set thee free from yonder caitiff's power?

Spirit.
I seldom think. By Might Eternal I was wrought,
In silence to fulfil my lord and master's thought.

[Vanishes.