University of Virginia Library

1. PART THE FIRST.

Thalia.

ACT FIRST.

ISPAHAN.
A small meanly-furnished Room. Mustapha, seated upon a table, sewing. Morgiana spinning cotton.
Mustapha.
Ho! Morgiana!—fast asleep again?

Morgiana.
No, Mustapha; you're wrong,—indeed you are;
I was but thinking of my evening prayers,
And dropp'd my eyelids, not to be disturb'd
In my devotions. It is growing late. (yawns)


Mustapha.
Late! quotha, late! A pretty way to talk!
I call it early. Who, I'd like to know,
Is master in the house, wife? You or I?
You are a sloth—a drone! Is this a time
Or place for poor folks, such as we, to talk
About devotions—pish!—or evening prayers?

Morgiana.
Where is the use, then, of our fearing God?

Mustapha.
No use at all; that's just the misery;
For whilst you are at prayers you cannot spin.
And who e'er dined on prayers? Will they make loaves,
Or from the butcher buy us e'er a joint?
I am a frail old man; my strength is spent;
I cannot stitch as once I used to do.
You are my better half; and you should take
Upon your back the fair half of my trials.

Morgiana
(weeps).
I do my best to help—I'm sure I do.

Mustapha.
Well, dry your tears; and I'll not vex you more.
You're a good creature—'faith, you might be worse.
In days gone by, when I was better off,
You would have work'd too hard, but I forbade you;
Ah! wife, I used to beg you then, you know,
To spare your fair white hands and comely face;
But now—so run the changes in the world!
All your fine gilding has been rubb'd away,
And my last piece of gold has long been spent.
Now you must card and spin, if we're to live:
And, what is worse, we must find provender
For that long lounging good-for-nothing lout,
That wastes his days in idleness.

Morgiana.
Poor boy,
You should not deal so hardly with him, husband.
He is so very young! With his warm blood
You can't expect he'd be content to sit
Cross-legg'd upon the shop-board all day long.

Mustapha.
To polish, though, the pavement all day long,
With arms across, and lazy pace,—his blood
Is cool enough for that. Now, hark ye, wife—

Morgiana.
Well, keep your temper! Hush! here comes the boy!

Aladdin
(entering).
God greet you, my dear parents!

Mustapha.
Wait a bit,
I'll greet you, you young vagabond, I will!
Where, sir, have you been frittering your time?
With other idle rascals like yourself?

Aladdin.
Frittering? I frittering my time,—not I!
Say, rather, turning it to good account.
There is the price of the rich merchant's dress!
There, father! He was not at home himself;
But, as I'm but a boyish stripling still,
They let me have free access to his house;
And once they catch me there, the women folks
Won't suffer me to go. Oh, holy Prophet!
What darling creatures are those girls of his!
They chatted with me—ask'd me, the dear rogues,
If I was thorough master of my trade?
Oh, that I were indeed a real tailor!
If they would only give me leave, said I,
I'd take their measures on the spot, I would.
“Agreed, agreed!” they cried; then off they ran,
And fetched me paper and a pair of shears.
You should have seen what measuring ensued,—
Round arm, round swelling bosom, slender waist.
Lord, Lord! a rare thing is the tailor's craft!

Mustapha.
You good-for-nothing scamp, I'll tailor you!
Fine tailoring, indeed!
(As he leaps down from the table, he slips, and is on the point of falling.)
Oh, holy Prophet!
Help, help! I fall! Help, or I'll break my neck!

Aladdin
(helps him).
This comes of being over-hasty now.

Mustapha
(restraining his anger).
Fetch me my ell-wand, that's a darling boy!

[Aladdin fetches the ell-wand; Mustapha makes a blow at him with it, but Aladdin springs back; his father strikes Morgiana's spindle, and knocks it over upon the lamp. Aladdin runs off.
Morgiana
(who has dropped asleep again, starts up, and seeing her spindle on fire, exclaims)
Ha! Fire! Fire! Ispahan—pa—Ispahan!
Help, murder! Persia's mighty capital
Is in a blaze!

Mustapha.
No, not so bad as that!
Wretch that I am! I am the sport of Fate!
Ha, you young scant-o'-grace! scamp! gallows-bird!
Will you not stop till I chastise you, eh?
Will you deprive me of my livelihood
Amongst my rich, luxurious customers?
Will—Morgiana, have you lost your wits?
There you sit wringing of your hands, and let
The spindle burn! Ho! Water—water here!

Morgiana.
Water, indeed! And where am I to get it?
There's not a drop—not one in all the house;
Nor fireman's pail, nor engine spout have I.
Oh, oh!—my cotton! Oh, my yarn—my yarn!

[In her distraction she snatches up the silk dress on which Mustapha is at work, and flings it upon the flames.
Mustapha.
The kaftan burns! This was the heaviest blow!
I never, never shall survive this day.
Our house is menaced by a ruthless doom:
Its light grows fainter, to be quenched in gloom.

Morgiana.
Oh, if it were, what happiness for me!
But soon in flames our little home will be.

[Mustapha swoons away.
AFRICA.
A large chamber, illuminated by a faintly-burning lamp. Round about, upon the walls, hang all kinds of singular instruments; several book-shelves on one side. In the background sits The Enchanter, Noureddin, in a long black robe, with a scarf, on which numerous mystical characters are blazoned. On the table before him a little chest, filled with white sand. Buried in thought, he traces lines in the sand with an ebony stylus. Suddenly he exclaims—
(Rises slowly, and takes down an old folio, which he opens, and reads.)

ISPAHAN.
A Room. Morgiana and her Female Neighbours round Mustapha's bier.
Morgiana.
Once more I thank you, worthy gossips all,
For your kind help with my poor husband here!
He's dead, alack! Great Prophet! Ah, he sits
No longer stitching on the table there,
And scolding me for dropping off to sleep!
Now he sleeps faster far than e'er did I.
Thanks, thanks, good Mirza! You, Amina, thanks!
If God call either of your husbands hence,
You may rely on Morgiana's help
To wash, and dress, and lay the body out,
And weep and wail, as you have done for mine.
Oh Allah! think,—the robe, in which he lies,
It was the death of him! He fetch'd a blow
To hit Aladdin, and upset my distaff
Into the lamp. I started from my nap
With a great shriek;—how to put out the fire
Was my first thought, but in my parlous fright,
Not knowing which was black and which was white,
I snatch'd the dress up, flung it on the flames,
When down he dropp'd, as pale as any sheet,
And died of downright terror on the spot. (weeps)

Well!—'tis a road we all one day must go;
Yet it is hard! And then in such a way!
Aladdin is a worthless scamp! And now,
Farewell, my good kind friends! See, here they come,
To take him to the grave! This is too much.
[The corpse-bearers enter.
My heart is breaking! Oh, good gentle souls!
When ye take up the bier, grasp not too hard;
'Tis an old man; so lift him tenderly:
He is not fit to bear much buffeting;
And mind you turn his silver-hoary head
Towards Mecca, and his feet to Medina.
One kiss! Ah me!—how tranquilly he lies!
Once he was always fuming;—that is past.
Farewell, my husband! Mustapha, farewell!

[Exeunt bearers with the bier. The women shriek.
A Street.
Aladdin and a troop of ragged Boys; in the background the Magician, Noureddin, who watches their proceedings attentively.
Selim.
There is Aladdin! Now we may begin!
Now we shall have our game!

Aladdin.
Good morrow, friends!

Selim.
And where have you been loitering all this time?

Aladdin.
Look ye! There was an old man's funeral,
Outside the town, near the small village mosque;
And this it was that kept me. 'Tis so nice
To listen to the singing, and to see
The stately way they bear the bier along.

Selim.
Why didn't you, I say, take me with you?
Who was it they were burying?

Aladdin
(yawns).
My father.

Selim.
Who? What? Your father? Gracious! Is he dead?

Aladdin.
Two nights ago.

Selim.
And you,—you never spoke
A word to me about it.

Aladdin.
I forgot.

Selim.
And you're not mourning?

Aladdin.
Where would be the good?

Selim.
Not in your dress, I mean, but in your heart?

Aladdin.
Why, if we mourn'd for all that went amiss,
We should do nought but mourn. He was old and frail.

Sindbad.
Well, come along! The merchant at the corner
Will fling three oranges again to-day
For us to scramble for beneath his window.

Aladdin.
I will be there.

Sindbad.
Of course! No doubt you will!
See, here comes one! Now, youngsters, look alive!

(Aladdin has caught the orange).
Selim.
You're always lucky.

Boys
(call out).
Ho! More oranges!

[Another orange is thrown from the window, and is caught by Aladdin.
Aladdin.
That's number two! They make a pretty pair.

Sindbad.
Aladdin shan't play with us any more.
He mustn't try to catch the third. He's got
Enough already. Comrades, hold him back!

[Some of the boys hold Aladdin. A third orange is thrown out, and falls into his turban.
Aladdin.
That's number three! One I shall eat myself;
And now, here go the other two again!

(throws the two oranges into the air. All the boys run off to catch them).
Noureddin
(advances).
Why should I travel further? This child's play,
As aimless and as trivial as it seems,
Is yet devised by destiny, to show
The tool I am to use. As I surmised,
Sturdy and straight, red-cheek'd, without a care!
They bury this boy's father, and he goes
To gape at this like any other show.
Twice on the child did fortune shower her boons,
Ay, and the third time, though his hands were bound,
He lured her favour down into his turban.
What would I more? The thing I sought is here.
(goes up to Aladdin).
God save you, my young friend! I see that you
Are a smart hand at catching.

Aladdin
(sheepishly).
Rather, sir!

Noureddin.
Forgive me if, a stranger as I am,
I make so bold as tender you my friendship,
For I am drawn to you in many ways;
First, you are much the handsomest of all
Your playfellows;—the tallest, too, to boot.
How old are you?

Aladdin.
Just turned seventeen.

Noureddin.
I should have thought you older by your looks.
You only want a beard, to be a man.
Then, in dexterity you're foremost, too,
And you have luck. A foreign merchant I,
Almost a stranger here in Ispahan,
And so would like to know some pleasant people.

Aladdin.
You show me too much honour, sir, indeed!
Small profit will you get from knowing me.
I'm a poor tailor's 'prentice, sir. My father
Died very strangely just two days ago.
This was the way of it. With his ell-wand
He fetch'd a blow at me, but missed, and knock'd
My mother's distaff over on the lamp.
The yarn caught fire;—and thereupon he died.

Noureddin.
I heard you speaking of his burial,—
And—don't be angry!—the indifference
That marked your words somewhat offended me.

Aladdin.
Why, sir, he was a poor infirm old man,
Almost threescore and ten; and very few
Live past that age in Ispahan!

Noureddin.
But then,
'Twas you, it seems, who caused the old man's death.

Aladdin.
Because I would not quietly submit
To be felled like an ox? Because I leapt
Aside, and showed him a clean pair of heels?
No, gentle sir; think what a life is that,
Which hangs by such a very spider's thread,
It dies of simple fright, because a wisp
Of yarn takes fire!—He rather owes me thanks
For giving him occasion, as I did,
To say good-bye to it for good and all.

Noureddin.
That was not spoken like a son, my friend!

Aladdin.
A son? Mashallah, I am fain to think,
That I count kindred with that sire of mine
Through my good mother's courtesy alone!
For he was old, when he took her to wife,
And she was pretty, as the rumour goes.
Al Sefi, an Emir, oft called on us;
Right fond of me he was, and I was like him;
Many's the gift I had of him, before
He lost his life in fighting with the Turks.

Noureddin.
Your father was so old! What was his name?

Aladdin.
His name, sir? Mustapha!

Noureddin
(with increasing interest).
A tailor, said you?

Aladdin.
Body and soul a tailor.

Noureddin.
And lived long
In Ispahan?

Aladdin.
Since ever I remember.

Noureddin.
A little peevish—naturally testy?

Aladdin.
You know him?

Noureddin.
Yes,—an industrious old man?

Aladdin.
Amazingly industrious?

Noureddin.
And he wished
That you should be the same, no doubt, and not
Go lounging idly up and down the streets.

Aladdin.
The very man! His picture large as life!

Noureddin
(embraces him).
My brother's son!

Aladdin.
What! You his brother, sir?

Noureddin.
Yes, his own very brother. Mahomet!
I thought he had been dead this many a day.
Never could I have hoped to find his son,
And now I find him in this comely youth!
Embrace me, child! What is your name?

Aladdin.
Aladdin.

Noureddin.
Yes, yes! He wrote me word of that.—But now
Touching that same Emir of whom you spoke—

Aladdin
(looking embarrassed).
Oh, gracious! uncle,—not a word of that!
Suppose it something whispered to the wind.

Noureddin.
Well, come, Aladdin, my dear nephew, come,
And lead me to your aged mother straight.
She's still alive?

Aladdin.
The cottage there is hers.

Noureddin.
Almighty God! how wondrously does fate
Bring things to meet together in this world!

[Exeunt into the cottage.
A Chamber.
Noureddin, Morgiana, and Aladdin seated at supper.
Morgiana.
Most honoured kinsman! Dear good brother! Don't,
Don't take it ill of me to speak so bold—
Dear bless my soul, I'd sooner have believed
The Caucasus had sunk into the earth,—
Yea, the Euphrates run completely dry,
Than that my dear, my faithful Mustapha— (weeps)

Now he is in the blessed Paradise,
Where youthful Houris, prettier far than I,
Caress and dress him day by day, and rub
With flannels soft his poor rheumatic limbs.
Well, let them! I'm not jealous!—No, not I.
But to come back to what I meant to say,—
Ne'er, as I said before, had I believed
That Mustapha, poor, ailing Mustapha,
Was brother of so grand a gentleman.
Besides, I never heard him speak of you,
Yet he was given to gossiping, God knows!
And so at first I thought—(your pardon, sir!)—
That you were but a thief, a vagabond,
Who took this plan to throw us off our guard.
But when, again, I came to think that here
There's nothing any man could steal—no more
Than on the red sands of Sahara's waste;
And when you ordered heaps of viands in,
And sweet sherbet in goblets of great price,
Then, dearest kinsman, my suspicion vanished.
For what, said I, in all the world should make you
So kind to an old woman like myself,
And my poor boy, if not relationship?

Noureddin.
Yes, my dear sister;—all that's in my power
To do for you, or for your darling son,
I'll do like a true kinsman. Why has fate
Concealed your poverty from me so long?
But what is past and gone is past recal;
'Tis merest folly to lament the things,
We have no power to alter. We will deal
With matters as they are. (pours out sherbet)

So, fill, my son,
And pledge me in a cup.

Aladdin.
Uncle, your health! (drinks).


Noureddin.
Now, sister, tell me—and be frank, I beg—
What's your vocation? Whereon do you live?
What does Aladdin do? Is he industrious?
What business does he mean to turn to? What
Is the peculiar bias of his mind?

Morgiana.
The bias of his mind? Alack, alack!
To scour the streets the livelong blessed day;
To tumble in the mire like any pig,
To wear his breeches into holes at knee;
To tear his coat to tatters at the elbows,
To fight, and swear, and scramble up and down,—
That's all his bias. You may well suppose,
The boy has cost me many an aching heart:
It's little else I get from him, God knows!
He is my son, my own true flesh and blood;
A handsome youth, and smart—pure red and white,
And everybody says he's just my image;
But I must tell the truth, come what come may;
He sees me spin and spin from morn till night,
But what is that to him? God save the mark!
He'll not so much as turn his hand, not he,
To comb his hair out. Everything is thrown
On me,—poor me!—of widows most perplexed.
He should have been a tailor, like his father.
That was a tailor for you!—Tailor's work
Don't drop into one's mouth, like roasted doves.
Whilst my poor husband lived, I took his part,
The idle dog—and now Heaven pays me off
For having been a weak good-natured fool. (weeps)


Noureddin.
Well, well, my worthy sister, dry your tears.
As far as I can judge your boy Aladdin,
His character is generous, frank and noble.
Too young to choose a business for himself,
Depressed and hampered by the want of means,
He does not know which way to turn himself.
In this way indolence has rock'd his spirit,
Like any cradled infant, into sleep.
I'd wager, were he put into the way
Of starting in some trade in proper style,—
The master of a handsome shop, we'll say,
Well stock'd with fine and well-selected stuffs
From China, India, and the Levant—
I'd wager, at a venture, two to one,
He'd very soon grow tired of his old life,
And turn to other courses. Eh, my son?

Aladdin.
Good uncle, you exactly read my heart.
I never pass a merchant's shop like that,
Piled to the roof with cloth of gold and silver,
Gauzes and velvets, and rich robes and silks,
But to myself I say,—Oh, if I had
Such a fine shop as that! Then, every day
Would lovely Persian ladies visit me;
And they would fling their long thick veils aside,
In order rightly to inspect the goods;
And whilst their eyes were busy with my stuffs,
Mine should be busy taking stock of them.
Oh, get me such a shop, dear uncle, do,
And here I promise you, by all that's sacred,
To grow methodical, sagacious, grave,—
To comb my hair, and never more to play
With stupid dirty boys about the streets.

Noureddin
(offers him his hand).
Your hand upon it!

Aladdin
(takes it).
And my heart too!

Noureddin.
Good!
A shop I'll get you the day after next.

Morgiana.
Oh, holy Prophet! He a shop! Poor wretch!
How in the world is that to come about?

Noureddin.
I'll buy a shop, and set him up in it.

Aladdin
(falls on Noureddin's neck).
That's what I call an uncle! Blood with him
Is thicker far than water! But, dear uncle,
'Tis a long time till the day after next;
Were it not better instantly, by dawn
To-morrow—'tis too late, alas! to-night—
To buy the shop for me? What's done is done;
And, to confess the truth, I can't abide
To be kept waiting long.

Morgiana.
Thou saucy knave!
Thou mooncalf! Good-for-nothing! Hast thou ne'er
One grain of sense in all thy stupid skull?
Is this thy gratitude? Art thou not struck
All of a heap with Providence's mercies?
I cannot choose but weep. Oh best of brothers,
You are an angel, sent from paradise
To save this wretched orphan from perdition;
The poor dear child! Get up, you rascal! There,
Go kiss your uncle's hand! Where be your manners?
Have you no thanks? Ha, is it not a dream?
I am so used to misery and grief,
This sudden turn of fortune quite confounds me.

Noureddin.
Calm thee, good lady.—Friend Aladdin, no;
To-morrow's Friday, and a holiday,
And we can do no business. Shops are shut;
The time is given to exercise devout,
And quiet recreation. Yet will I
Procure you a fresh suit without delay,
One that is fitted for your new estate;
And, by your mother's leave, we shall go forth
Into the suburbs, for a quiet stroll
Among the cool shades of those lovely gardens
Outside the gates. Have you a mind for this?

Aladdin.
Yes, that I have.

Noureddin.
Then for to-day we part;
For it is late, and I am much fatigued.
Betimes I shall be with you in the morning;
And now, good night!

Aladdin and Morgiana.
Kinsman, good night!—good night!

[Exit Noureddin.
A Wild Mountainous Region.
A narrow valley, covered with grass and flowers, shut in between two precipitous rocks, studded with trees. A stream dashes from one of the rocks.
Noureddin and Aladdin enter, in close conversation.
Aladdin.
Good uncle, you do tell the prettiest stories
That ever I have heard in all my life:
I never should grow tired of listening.
I fancy I am wiser, by a deal,
Than when we started on our walk but now.
To every quarter of the world you've led me.
It may be very true, all that you say
Of trade and merchandise; but I confess,
What you have told me of these powers occult
Of nature, and of marvels manifold,
Of men, who in a moment oft attain,
By merest chance, what others waste their lives
In vain and ceaseless efforts to achieve,
Of the invisible and central force,
And other such mysterious agencies,
These were the things that gave me most delight!

Noureddin.
These are the noblest themes—the most sublime
That can employ the mind of mortal man!

Aladdin
(looks round him, amazed).
But where, in all the world, is this we are?
You charmed me so with your delightful talk,
I took no notice how we came along.
Far have we wandered from the gardens,—far,
Through brake and greenwood, over hill and dale.
We're right among the mountains! Surely we
Have come a frightful distance! Now, I think
It struck me once, that I was growing tired;
But straightway I forgot it. Tell me, uncle,
Have you been as oblivious as myself?

Noureddin.
No, my dear son! I led thee by design,
Far from the city's stupefying din,
To nature's calm, majestic solitudes.
I mark'd thy young heart beat with childish joy,
Through the fair gardens as we came along,
Which, like a chaplet, breathe their fragrance cool
Round that huge pile of gross and sculptured stone.
Yet, though I do not scruple to confess
That these green thickets, musical with brooks,
And clustering rich with fruits of choicest hues,
Were fair, most fair and pleasant to the eye,
Yet nature, fashioned in such puny moulds,
Bound down and fetter'd by convention's rules,
Grown up within possession's close confine,
And under the possessor's lordly eye,
Is poor, most poor, beside these glorious hills,
Which tower gigantic, like the kings of earth.
Though my words seemed to drop at unawares,
Yet were they pondered carefully to lead
Thy bright and subtle spirit, step by step,
Up from the trivial to the sublime.
In what I told thee, 'twas my aim to make thee
Familiar with the marvellous; that so
Thou mayst not, like a fiery-mettled colt,
Foaled in the desert, with his wit to learn,
Rear up in terror at the sudden peal.
This therefore have I done; and now, methinks,
I may disclose my purpose to thee safely.

Aladdin.
Speak on, sir; I am not at all afraid.

Noureddin.
Then know, my son, that I for years on years
Have pored o'er nature's book of mysteries,
And there unravell'd marvels too occult
For the dull glance of common eyes to pierce.
Thus, amongst other matters, I have found,
That here, where now we stand, beneath our feet
A cavern lies, deep vaulted in the rock,
Where all, that in the mountain's bosom rests,
A deeper bloom and richer lustre wears,
Bright with the hues of an eternal spring,
Than the pale growths of this our upper earth,
Where the flower dies as swiftly as it blows,
Leaving its wan sere leaves alone behind.
If, then, thou hast the courage to descend
Into this cave of marvel and of beauty—
For thy sake, mark me, I came here, my son,
For I have scann'd its glories many a time—
Then will I by a spell of mystic power,
First kindling some dry twigs, disclose to thee
The hidden entrance to the vault at once.

Aladdin.
Oh! is there, then, a real cavern here?
Right underneath our feet? Here, where we stand?

Noureddin.
A grotto, studded with the choicest gems,
Infinite nature's magazine of art!

Aladdin.
And you can find its entrance, by a fire
Of twigs, and muttering some mystic words?

Noureddin.
That power has Allah's grace on me bestowed.

Aladdin.
Dear, dear! I never heard the like before!

Noureddin.
Art thou so soon afraid?

Aladdin.
Afraid? Not I.
And yet it is too wonderful by half!

Noureddin.
You see yon withered branches, how they droop,
Scorch'd into tinder on the sun-burnt rocks,—
Away, my son, and fetch them for our fire!
But be alert, for it grows late and dusk.

Aladdin.
Trust me for that! I do so long to see
This lovely cave! I'll fetch the wood at once!

[Exit.
Noureddin.
So, then, the moment is at hand, that gives
The earth and all its glories to my grasp!
This is the spot has been my life's one dream;
The spot I've come so many leagues to reach.
Here comes my instrument already back,
Laden with sticks, and merry as a bird.
Poor fool! so eager to embrace his doom,
He stumbles as he runs;—a dismal fall
Awaits him. Ah! look round thee, giddy boy!
For the last time make glad thy wretched eyes
With the fresh brightness of these flowery slopes,
And warm thy wretched body with the sun!
Soon, soon shalt thou, cut off from sun and flowers,
Shut in the dark, and rack'd by hunger-pangs,
Shriek through the echoing gloom in vain for death.
There be weak fools would call this cruelty;
But it is wisdom, unalloy'd by passion.
What's doom'd is doom'd, and cannot choose but be.
Psha! Does the sage, who into nature pries,
Shrink to impale the insect on his pin?

Aladdin
(returns with a bundle of faggots on his back).
Here's wood enough to roast an elephant.
But, uncle, on my way, and whilst I broke
The branches off, and laid them on my back,
There came into my mind the old, old tale
Of Abraham, and the sacrifice of Isaac,
And how the unhappy lad himself was made
To bear the wood for his own funeral pile.
(Suddenly he swings round on one leg, and waves his hand triumphantly.)
But Allah sent an angel to his help,
Direct from heaven! Yes, Allah always helps,
Just when our need is sorest! don't he, sir?

Noureddin
(confused).
Inexplicable Fate o'erruleth all.

Aladdin.
Yet the good Isaac was a dunce, methinks,
Not to see through his father's artifice!
Just catch me being such a precious fool!
But after all, perhaps, 'tis all a lie.

Noureddin.
Most likely. Lay the faggots here. And now
Help me to kindle them. But stay—one word!
From the first moment that I saw thee catch
The oranges in thy turban yesterday,
I set thee down to be a youth of spirit,
That manfully despises woman's fears,
And hails adventure like a trumpet-call.

Aladdin.
If such the notion that you took of me,
I fancy, sir, you were not much deceived.

Noureddin.
Good! Then prepare to look upon a sight,
Will make your very heart leap up with joy.
When I have set the wood on fire, and strewn
Some incense on it, and pronounced the word,
The earth will heave and tremble, and anon
From out its breast will rise a marble stone,
Square, with a ring of iron in its centre;
This thou shalt raise, the slightest pull will do,
So thou but mutter to thyself the while
Thy father and grandfather's honoured names.
The stone once raised, thou wilt behold a stair.
Descend that stair. 'Tis dark, but do not fear.
Around thee soon the cavern's fruits will spread
A radiance brighter and more beautiful
Than yonder sallow, sultry, sulphurous sun's.
Three lofty grottoes first receive thy steps,
Ablaze with veins of gold and silver ore,
Which from the rugged walls of rock protrude.
Pass onward, and touch nothing that you see;
'Tis all too firmly fixed; 'twere labour lost.
Crossing these chambers, thou wilt find thyself
Within a garden. Paradise itself
Was not so fair. 'Tis Paradise, perhaps,
Here from man's view concealed since his first fall.
The finest, and most gorgeous fruits are there,
Of every different colour; crimson, blue,
White, yellow, violet, and emerald green,—
Like jewels hung in a Sultana's ear,—
Flame on the boughs, and give the eye delight.
How gladly would I go with you! But one
Alone may taste this rapture on one day.
My own delight I sacrifice to thine!
And all I ask thee for myself is this,
That thou wilt cross the garden, tarrying not,
Till, at the end, thou comest to a wall,
Where, set within a smoky niche, thou'lt find
An ancient copper lamp. This fetch to me.
I told you I was fond of old knick-knacks;
That I collect these curious odds and ends;
And so this lamp, to others valueless,
Has a mere fancy-value for myself.
As thou returnest, thou may'st pluck the fruit,
And bring with thee as much as thou canst carry.
Only be quick, my son, and fetch the lamp!

Aladdin.
All right, dear uncle, I am quite prepared.

Noureddin
(takes out a box of incense and flings some upon the flames. Immediately a peal of distant thunder is heard, and a flash of lightning strikes the fire. The earth trembles; a large square stone rises horizontally with the surface of the ground, in the centre of which is seen a large iron ring).
Now, quick, Aladdin! Pull away! Make haste!

Aladdin.
Oh, no, dear uncle! Dearest uncle, spare me!
I tremble so! I can't, indeed I can't.

Noureddin
(strikes him to the ground).
Wilt thou provoke me, craven-hearted boy?
How! Have I undertaken for thy good
A task so hard and perilous, that thou
Shouldst, like a lap-dog over-nursed and cloy'd,
Tremble with mere distrust when I but stroke thee?
Quick! Seize the ring! Do it, or by the Prophet,
And by the mighty Solomon, I'll chain thee
Down to the stone, and leave thee here behind,
Prey for the eagles and the mountain wolves!

Aladdin.
Ah, dearest uncle, do not be so cross;
I'll do your bidding willingly, I will.

Noureddin.
Do so, and I will make it worth your while;
Tush, silly boy! What! tears still in your eyes?
For shame, Aladdin! Show yourself a man,
And a kind kinsman you shall find in me.
In sooth, I stand you in a father's stead,
And therefore 'tis my duty to chastise you,
When you deserve it. Trust me, it is all
For your advantage. Come, then, come and show
How brave you can be—grasp the ring, and whisper
Your father's and his father's name.

Aladdin
(resolutely).
I will!

(He mutters to himself, grasps the ring and pulls, but is unable to lift the stone).
Noureddin
(aside, and starting back affrighted).
Almighty Prophet! What is this I see?
Does the spell fail me? Have I been deceived?

Aladdin.
I thought 'twas not the thing!

Noureddin.
What didst thou think?
Didst thou not name thy father's name, thou wretch?

Aladdin.
Out of respect for you, my honoured kinsman,
I whispered Mustapha and Casem's names,
And so the stone lies rooted to the rock.
But by your leave—I mean, sir, no offence,
None in the world!—but if you'll let me name
The Emir whom you wot of, and his father,
Then you shall see!

Noureddin.
Ah! name them,—name them, boy!

Aladdin
(again grasping the stone).
Al Mamon and Al Safi.—Here it comes!

Noureddin.
Soh! You were right!

Aladdin.
A rare disclosure this!
If one may judge by what we just have seen,
We ne'er were kinsmen.

Noureddin.
Well then, we are friends.
But now away at once, and fetch the lamp!

Aladdin.
The stairs are marble! beautiful and broad!
It don't look dangerous at all; and there
I spy the light already! Yet 'tis strange.
Now I am in the hole, I have no fear;
A little nervous, I must own, or so,—
But, come what may, here goes!

Noureddin.
That's bravely said.
Mind, don't forget the lamp.

Aladdin.
Oh, never fear!

(is about to descend.)
Noureddin.
One word! Upon thy finger place this ring.
Whatever my befal, 'twill keep thee safe.

(Takes a ring from his finger and places it on Aladdin's.)
Aladdin.
Uncle, all right! I'm eager to be gone!

(disappears.)
Noureddin.
Oh Mahomet, be gracious to thy servant!
I struck Aladdin, to accustom him
To be obedient. For spontaneously,
And not from fear or menace, must he fetch me
The lamp from this same murky cave below.
But if with it he reascends to earth,
The lamp belongs to him! Fate wills it so.
And once closed in, the mountain opes no more.
Strange chance! Well, well—here will I wait my doom.
Within the shrouded urn the lots repose.
Ah! can the ministers of darkness say,
If chance or industry shall gain the day?

ACT SECOND.

A subterranean garden blooms, in the mountain deeply shrouded,
With trees of sparkling metal bright, and radiant leafage crowded.
There copper, iron, lead and tin, aloft in air are gleaming,
And rarest fruits on every bough with wondrous sheen are beaming.
For some are white as milk, and some like crystal sparkle gaily:
Blood-red are some, and others like the coral blushing palely;
Green, violet, yellow, blue and brown, in many a varied cluster,
Within this beauteous garden shine with bright and fiery lustre.
The fruits of white are pearls, the bright are diamonds, and the flaming
Are rubies bloody red of hue, all other hues outshaming.
The grass is grown of emerald, and 'mongst the tree-roots creeping,
With their azure light, the sapphires bright, like forget-me-nots are peeping.
And all around that wondrous ground, now clustering and now single,
The agate and pale amethyst, and glowing garnet mingle;
Through the trees along, with cheery song, a sparkling brook is straying,
It prattles well, though none may tell what that little brook is saying;
And in a niche, with smoke begrimed, and damp, and looking meanly,
Doth burn the lamp, the wonderful, with steady light serenely.
And bright as day its lonely ray that wondrous garden maketh,
For every gleam on gold or gem in a thousand sparkles breaketh.

Chorus of Mountain Spirits.
Hark to the thunder!
The levin has broke,
And rifted asunder
The rock with its stroke!

Voices
(soft and afar off).
Life, glowing and fair to see,
Is coming to our lifeless bower;
His shall the best of our treasures be,
His be our garden's goodliest flower.

Voice of the Lamp.

Voices of the Trees.
And thou wilt go, and leave us here in sadness!
No longer shall our fruits a radiance shed;
What beauty will be left, what lustre—gladness,
When from the cave thy magic light hath fled?

Voice of the Lamp.

Aladdin
(who starts on entering, and looks round).
Oh me! what a strange garden! All the trees
Full of such pretty fruit! Ripe, rosy apples,
Green-gages, peaches with a purple bloom,
And oranges like flame, white gooseberries,
And, oh me! grapes!—some blue as heaven itself,
And others clear as water in a stream.
How sweetly winds the little brook through all!
Oh, what a pity there is ne'er a bird
To warble in and out among the leaves!
How very still it is! What pretty flowers,
Yellow and filigreed, like ruddy gold!
Ha, what tremendous lilies! How they shine,
As though each leaf were out of silver carved!
I'll smell to one of them! They have no smell!
How comes it now they have no smell, I wonder?
My uncle, I must own, was in the right;
This sort of thing is only worth a look,
And then good bye.—But, see! there hangs the lamp!
How strangely does its steady gleam light up
All round about, and make it beautiful!
My uncle is the oddest sort of man.
What wants he with the lamp? These fruits, I'm sure,
Are better far, and prettier. Heaven preserve me!
Saw ever mortal such a bunch of grapes!
Oh, what a size! Oh, shan't I have a feast?
I am so thirsty.—So, here goes at them!
My uncle gave me leave. How! What is this?
Dear me! these are no ordinary grapes,—
They're nothing but mere glass! Let's try again!
These red ones may taste better, possibly.—
How! Still mere glass? Well, this beats everything!
All these fine things are nothing else but glass.
Ha, ha, ha! This is too ridiculous!
I made my mind up, they were luscious fruit,
And they are only stones! Oh, what a cheat!
Since this is so, 'twere best get home again
As quickly as we can; the victuals there
Are bad and scanty; still they have a relish.
These glistening stones are wonderfully fine,
And to my comrades when I show them off,
How they will stare at their magnificence!
I'll pluck as many as my clothes will hold.
Mashallah! I am pack'd and laden like
A camel for a jaunt across the desert.
Now to be off! Yet, stay,—Good gracious me!
I very nearly had forgot the lamp!
And then my uncle would have cuff'd me finely.
(he takes it from the niche).
So, come this way, old battered trumpery!
Had I my will, I'd rather let thee hang.
I'll not put out the light, though, till I see
The daylight through the opening again.
This cave is certainly the prettiest place!
There hangs a plum, of such a brilliant blue,
I should so like to take it with the rest.
And now farewell, thou daintiest of glass shops!
I must away—my uncle waits for me.

[Exit.
The narrow Pass between the Rocks.
Noureddin
(stands at the entrance of the cave, he bends down and listens).
At length, at length he comes! I hear his step!
'Tis manifest he bears a heavy load.
He's weighted with the stones, and can't get on.
No matter! Once the lamp is in my hands,
I'll fling this incense on the fire, and speak
The magic word, then all shuts up again.
I'll not be tortured by the ceaseless dread,
That through this boy's simplicity, whose soul
Stands like an empty chest agape to all,
My secret should be bruited to the world.
He comes! No more! Let Destiny decide!

Aladdin
(still in the cave).
Here I am, uncle! Let me have your hand,
It is so steep here.

Noureddin.
Give me first the lamp,
My own dear boy, and then I'll help you up.

Aladdin.
I've such a load of pretty pebbles here
Within my kaftan, and beneath them all
Lies the old lamp. So, pray just help me out!

Noureddin.
You stupid booby! let your rubbish drop,
And hand me up the lamp! What! playing off
Your childish pranks again! The lamp, I say!

Aladdin
(to himself).
He makes me first go down like any fool
To fetch him up a trumpery rusty lamp,
And, when that's done, and on the way I've pick'd
Some score of pretty stones up for myself,
He'll not so much as let me take them home.
(Aloud.)
You shall not have it till I'm out again!

Noureddin
(restraining himself, and with a gentle voice).
Boy, take your toys and gewgaws from your kaftan,
And let me have the lamp at once! You can
Pick up the stones again.

Aladdin.
Good gracious, sir!
Why should you ask me such a thing? Why not
Wait till I'm fairly out? 'Tis very strange,
The staircase should so suddenly have vanished.
Come, uncle!—come, be quick!—give me your hand!

Noureddin.
That I will not, until I have the lamp.

Aladdin.
Then I can scramble out without your aid.

[He is nearly out, when Noureddin in a rage strikes him, and throws some incense upon the fire.
Noureddin.
Close up once more, ye ruthless rocky walls!
He shall not reap the harvest of my toil.
[The mountain closes. He gazes steadily for awhile upon the place where the entrance to the cave had been; then heaving a deep sigh, he sits down exhausted upon a boulder of rock.
What were the words of the old minstrel's lay?
“Fain wouldst thou grasp—Hope's portal shuts amain!”
Why was I so impatient in my wrath?
What evil spirit did o'ermaster me?
'Tis done, and, being done, is past recal.
This fortune, then, was not designed for me.
(Starts up.)
Despair I shall not—no, though baffled now!
Before the power of will shall nature bow.
Home, home to Africa I haste once more,
And there anon renew my mystic lore.
By strenuous toil a power evoke I will,
To be the bond-slave of my wizard skill.
This stake is play'd and lost. Boy, greet thy fate,
And with thy life thy rashness expiate!

[Exit.
The Cavern.
Aladdin
(enters, feeling about in the dark; stumbles, and falls down exhausted).
Oh, dearest uncle! open, open pray!
I'll do whate'er you ask—indeed I will!
Oh, good—oh, best of uncles!—open, do!
Already he is far away! Oh heaven!
How many a tear shall I be forced to weep
In this dark, dismal, dog-hole of a place!
Ha! thou art not mine uncle! No,—thou art
A wicked wizard, full of tricks and snares,
That joys in leading simple lads astray,
And takes a fiendish pleasure in their death.
Yah, thou gaunt, livid scarecrow! Holy Prophet!
Bring me deliverance from this bitter strait!
Have I been guilty of so great a crime
As to deserve such heavy chastisement?
My father died,—but how was I to blame?
Oh, dear, good Allah! rescue me, I pray,
And leave me not to die of hunger here!
(He drops for a few seconds into powerless silence, and listens; and then says quietly with a childish distraction)
How strangely does the brook, in the big garden,
Run on and sing, and sing and still run on!
So was it flowing long long years ago,—
Ay, many hundred years ere I was born.
Hark to the trickling from the stalactites
High up upon the roof!—There, there it drops,
Still with the self-same sound! Plump, plump, plump, plump!
Will it ne'er have an end?—Hark! there again?

[The monotonous sound lulls him gradually into a sweet sleep.
Two Fairies
glide through a cleft of the rock, each with a flaming torch in her hand; they bend over Aladdin and regard him tenderly.
The First
(softly).
Look at the boy, how he smiles in his sleep!

The Second
(pityingly).
Who hath made him a pillow so stony and steep?

The First.
How comes one so blest in the mountain to be?

The Second.
Far fairer than dwarf or than fairy is he!

The First.
What bloom! Ah, what sweetness!

The Second.
What exquisite shape!

The First.
See! sighs from his breast, as he slumbers, escape!

The Second.
One kiss—oh, delicious!

The First.
His cheeks are aflame!

The Second.
Hush!—he wakens!

The First.
Alas! we must hence as we came.

[They vanish.
Aladdin
(looking up).
How? Still shut up within this dismal cave?
What ice-cold lips, as of a corpse, touched mine?
'Tis death has kissed me. I am faint for food.
Ha! cursed fruits, that are but glass and stone,
And prompt the hunger ye cannot appease!
(Springs up.)
I will go drink some water at the brook.
I cannot! A great rock has fallen between.
Oh Allah then have mercy on my soul!

[He strikes the ring which he received from Noureddin against the rock; a sparkle of light leaps from the stone, remains burning upon the ground, and illumines the cave.
The Spirit of the Ring
appears in the form of a giant, and asks, in a voice of thunder,
What wouldst thou with me? Say!
For thee I must obey.
A sovereign's right hast thou;
Thy slave, to thee I bow.
Nor only I must be
Obedient unto thee;
But every slave, where'er
He be, in earth or air,
That serves the ring, at thy
All-potent spell must fly.

Aladdin
(on his knees, with clasped hands).
Ah most tremendous Djin! if thou wouldst save
A wretched child, as I am sure thou canst,
Transport me from this miserable hole
To my dear mother's house in Ispahan.

The Spirit.
Freely give order,
Ruler and lord,
And spirits all-potent
Will come at thy word.
Anon with swift pinion
I'll bear thee on high,
And far o'er the snow-peaks
Of Caucasus fly.
O'er mountain and under,
Transport thee I can;
Through the air, o'er the forest,
To Ispahan.

[Vanishes with Aladdin.
Before a Gate of Ispahan.
Sunrise.
Enter Aladdin, his pockets filled with the precious stones of the cave.
Aladdin.
My head is all aspin. Well! such a journey
I never made in all my life before!
He caught me by the waist; the parting air
Around me flow'd, like water in the bath.
In the clear moonshine, what a height he flew!
And oh, how strangely small the earth became!
Great Ispahan itself, with all its lights,
That in the distance one by one went out,
Looked like a bit of paper which we burn,
And see the boys all running out of school.
In a wide circle round the sky he wheeled,
That I might view the wide expanse of earth,
Bathed in the magic moon's transparent beams.
I never shall forget how far he flew
O'er Caucasus, and rested on its peak,
Then swept sheer down upon the plain, as though
He meant to plunge me in Euphrates deep.
A tall three-decker flew before the gale
Upon the chafing sea;—thither he sped,
And resting with his toe upon the mast,
He, like a pillar, poised himself in air,
And there, secure as though he trod the ground,
He held me in one hand aloft to heaven.
Then when the moon, as pale as any ghost,
Vanished before the earliest flush of dawn,
Straightway he changed into a purple cloud,
And dropped down with me softly as the dew,
'Mongst the small flowers, close by the city gate.
This done, transformed again, he soared, a lark,
And vanished twittering in the azure air.
Oh me! I'm faint and weary;—now, for home!
How will my mother stare and gape at me!
I hope she has some victuals in the house,
For I am hungry, ravenously hungry!

[Exit.
A Room.
Morgiana. Aladdin (seated at a table, eating).
Morgiana.
My son, eat slowly! Do not bolt your food
So very fast! Pause for a little while!
There—take a drink! Spill not the precious meat,
And do not smudge your kaftan with the fat.
Ah! we get nothing from our children, nothing,
But care and cark!—Where Allah children sends,
There, too, He sends vexation. I made sure,
Our days of care and trouble were gone by,
And that you were to turn out something great,—
That when you were a merchant, I should sit
Beside you always, selling of my yarn.
And wherefore not? Allah confound thee, thou
Accursed magician, for the whole affair!

Aladdin.
Yes, mother, was it not a scurvy trick,
To shut me up in such a way? To leave me,
Without remorse, to perish of starvation?

Morgiana.
And, what was worse than all, to box your ears,
And send you spinning clean heels over head.
The saucy jack! Marry, who gave him leave,
To punish other people's children, eh?
A scurvy rogue!

Aladdin.
Look ye, good mother mine,
What's past is past, and cannot be recalled.
While here am I, so very hungry still,
I positively must have more to eat.

Morgiana.
Alas, dear child, there's nothing in the house.
My little bit of supper I had saved,
And hoped, 'twould be enough to stay your cravings.
I have no money either, to get more,
Until I sell the yarn that I am spinning.

Aladdin.
That's in the last degree unfortunate.
I always have a monstrous appetite
After a walk. But stay,—a lucky thought!
Reserve your yarn, dear mother, yet awhile,
And hand me that old rusty copper lamp,
Which I brought home with me. A coppersmith
Will give us for it, take it at the worst,
What will procure us two good meals at least.

Morgiana.
Well, here it is! But who will buy such trash?
It looks for all the world as it had lain
Unscrubb'd for centuries in dirt and mire.
They must be perfect pigs, these elfin folk,
That live inside the mountains! Who can tell,
If it be made of ordinary metal.
I'll scour it up a little bit, and then
If you can manage to dispose of it,
So much the better; if not, you must wait,
And curb your appetite until to-morrow.

[Takes a cloth, and wets it, then dipping it in sand, she begins to scour.
The Spirit of the Lamp,
a giant of beautiful aspect, rises out of the ground.
Scour not with such force and fury; I am here at thy command:
Swiftly speed I when thou callest, swiftly as the lightning's brand;
Every spirit of the Earth, too, eager is, nor I alone,
Thy behests, the lamp's great mistress, to fulfil as soon as known.

Morgiana.
Oh holy Prophet! Help me!—help, help, help!

(swoons).
Aladdin
recovers himself, seizes the lamp, and says,
Ah, dear good devil! I am mighty hungry!
Get me some dinner only now, and I
Will do you a kind turn some other time.
(The Spirit vanishes, but immediately re-appears with a large silver tray upon his head, in which are twelve silver dishes full of the most choice viands; six white loaves upon platters, and two flasks of rare wine and two glasses. All these he places on the table and vanishes. Aladdin looks on in amazement for a time. At last his appetite gives him courage; he advances slowly to the table, lifts the covers from some of the dishes, and then exclaims, full of delight and admiration, as one by one he tastes all the dishes)
How? Roast meat? Soup? Rice exquisitely boiled?
Pastry and fruit besides? Fish, pheasants too,—
The dish of dishes that I like the best?
A spirit this of taste, and no mistake!
He's hit my fancy to a nicety.
(Suddenly dejected.)
But, mighty Mahomet, they're not, I hope,
Glass, like the fruit in the enchanted garden!
(Eats.)
No, Heaven be praised! 'Tis all good honest meat,
The best of beef, and with a savoury sauce.
(sits down at table).
Here goes,—in Allah's name! But, gracious me!
Where is my mother? Ah, she tumbled down
As soon as the great giant showed himself.
Ho! mother!—ho! get up, and come to dinner!
He's fairly gone—he is. Rise, mother, rise!—
If she won't rise, why, I suppose I must,
Just when I was so nicely seated, too.—
(Rises.)
There's nothing perfect in this vale of tears.
(Shakes her.)
Ho! mother,—ho! What fancy can you have
For lying in the dirt? How's this? My God!
She is not, surely, dead? Oh, gracious Heaven!
Father and mother both cut off so soon!
[Runs to the table, fetches a jug of water, and putting some meat into his mouth, returns and dashes the contents of the jug in her face.
Ah, dearest mother! do recover, pray;
If, like my father, you are dead and gone,
I shan't enjoy a single morsel more.

Morgiana
(opens her eyes).
Oh, good and kind Sir Spirit, spare me, spare!

Aladdin.
He's gone long since. Why, mother, can't you see
The difference 'twixt your own child and a spirit?

Morgiana.
Aladdin, did you see the phantom, too?

Aladdin.
Of course I did.

Morgiana.
Ah, 'twas your blessed father,
Or I am much mistaken.

Aladdin.
Then you are.
No tailor's ghost was ever such a size,
You take my word for that!

Morgiana
(gets up).
When did he go?

Aladdin.
He brought this dinner, and then took his leave.

Morgiana.
What! He, the ghost, bring all these dainty things!

Aladdin.
Yes, mother! There! Fall to, and with a will!

Morgiana.
Into the dust-hole with them, every scrap!

Aladdin.
No, I am not so mad. Come, come now, mother,
You only try how nice the victuals taste.

Morgiana.
I will taste nothing, not a morsel I.
Ah me! I've gone through many a strait in life;
I'm old, and have seen strange things in my time,
But anything like this I never knew.
We learn, they tell us, every day we live.
But say, my blessed boy, how it fell out
That this appalling incident occurred.

Aladdin.
That's plain enough. Because you scoured the lamp.

Morgiana.
And so the lamp's to blame for this mischance?
Go, sell it—sell it any how you can!
I shall not have a moment's peace as long
As it is in the house.

Aladdin.
Good gracious, mother!
Sell the lamp now? What? Part with such a treasure?
No, mother, no; collect your scattered wits;
The fever's on you still. Mischance, indeed?
A most astonishing mischance, no doubt!
When I've a mind for pheasants, roast-meat, cakes,
And all the choicest dainties of the season,
'Tis but to rub a little verdigris
From this same lamp, and lo! I have my wish!

Morgiana.
Oh my dear son, just for a moment think,
That this is devilry and nothing else;
And 'tis enjoined us by the prophet's law,
To hold the devil and his imps at bay.

Aladdin.
But I have always heard, that devils were
Wicked and mischievous; but this of ours
Is such an honest soul, that he might pass
Most fairly for an angel at a pinch.
'Faith, I am much mistaken, if this lamp
Is not a blessing sent us by the Prophet.
Now, now I comprehend why the magician,
Sly rascal, was so bent on getting it,
And why he called it queer old trumpery.
Just such a spirit saw I once before.
Heaven only knows, what way he came; but I,
Somehow or other, must have rubb'd the lamp;
And him, and him alone I have to thank
For my release from the dark dreary cave!
'Twere shame to recompense the good with ill,
And to despise the spirits that befriend us,
Just when we're driven into the hardest straits.
Look now, what handsome dishes! Silver all!
One of the plates I'll in my kaftan take,
And straightway sell it somewhere in the town;
So with the rest, till I have sold them all;
For, mother, it would not be right, you know,
To call the spirit sooner than we need.
Come, now, do take some victuals on your plate!

Morgiana.
After this fright I could not touch a scrap.
As for yourself, my son, do what you please:
I wash my hands of it: I'll have no part,
Not I, in any of your wizard tricks.

Aladdin.
No more you shall, so never fret your heart.
I'll soon be back. And now to sell the plate!

[Exit.
A Street.
Aladdin, with a silver plate. An old Jew.
Jew.
A fair good morning, sweet young gentleman!
Hey, anything to sell? You've something there
Behind your kaftan; I can see you have.
You want to sell it? Well, friend, I can buy
As well as other men, of course I can.

Aladdin.
That's to be seen. Say, how much will you give
For this fine silver dish?

Jew
(makes a grasp at it).
A silver dish!
Silver, of course. He, he, my good young friend!
Tin, tin more likely. Let me look at it!

Aladdin.
Out of my hand I part not with the dish,
Till you have paid me for't. I know you Jews.
When you had got it, you might run away,
And say it was your own.

Jew.
Oh holy Moses!
How can he slander honest people so!
But how much might you want, now, for the dish?

Aladdin.
What will you give?

Jew.
Oh, is that all you know
Of doing business, friend? The seller first
Must name his price, and then the buyer bargains.

Aladdin.
Oh, I've no skill in chaffering, not I.
Say, at a word, how much you'll let me have,
And I will trust you for your honest looks.

Jew
(eyes attentively first the plate and then Aladdin).
My honest looks! That's fairly said. He thinks,
There's still some honesty left in the world.
A nice young man,—a very nice young man!
But not extremely wide awake, I'd say.

Aladdin.
Well, Jew, what do you offer for the dish?

Jew.
Na, it is good—all real silver! But
A man may buy even gold too dear, you know.
(Takes hesitatingly a gold coin from his pocket, to try Aladdin.)
What do you say, now, to a piece like this?

Aladdin
(takes it).
I'm perfectly contented. (Aside.)
It is gold!
I'm half afraid lest he, on second thoughts,
Should think his bargain dear, and want to get
His money back again; so, I'll be off!

[Exit.
Jew
(calls after him).
Hark ye, young man! Already gone! Woe's me,
He fancies I might think my bargain dear.
Hog that I was,—dog—idiot—stupid dolt!
He would have sold it me for half the money;
Ay, for the quarter of it; yea, the sixth, (Shouts.)

Ho! Stop him, catch the thief! He's out of sight.
Ha, thou old hunx! thou stupid addlebrains!
(Looks at the plate.)
Sure it is well worth sixty times as much
As I gave for it. Excellent, fine silver!
Perhaps he may have more to sell. Go to!
The chance is past; what boots it now to whine?
The thing is done!—Ah Moses, what disgrace
For an old rogue like me to be outdone
By such a green young simpleton as that!

[Exit.
A Khan.
Merchants seated round about, smoking and drinking coffee.
Ali and Bedreddin
(at the window).
Look! there's the young man coming down the street;
I mean the handsome fellow, who came here
Two days ago and yesterday. Across the street
With the high turban and the dandy kaftan!

Bedreddin.
A handsome fellow, truly!

Ali.
I am told,
That not long since that youth was to be seen
Playing with ragged urchins in the streets;
But all at once, most unaccountably,
A change so great came over him, one scarce
Could know him for the same; and now, you see,
He's always smart, frequents the choicest khans,
And listens with a heedful modest air,
When learned men or aged people talk.

Bedreddin.
See the young rascal, stealing sidelong looks
At Abon Hassan's windows; he expects
To see his pretty wife. Ah, cunning rogue!
You must be hankering for forbidden fruits,
My pretty butterfly?

Ali.
See, here he comes!

Bedreddin.
We'll have some sport with him.

Aladdin
(enters, rather bashfully, and salutes them).
Sirs, Allah's blessing
Be with you, and the Prophet's!

Ali.
Fairly spoken!
But may I be so bold as ask, young man,
What were your eyes in search of, when they look'd
So hard at Abon Hassan's window?

Bedreddin.
Oh,
He merely wished to see if it remained
In the same place as yesterday,—no more.

Ali.
Brother, you do him wrong! This gentleman
Looked not at Abon Hassan's window,—no,
But through it, I'll be sworn.

Bedreddin.
And there beheld
The iron bars, that stand there night and morn,
So slim and straight, to keep intruders out.

Ali.
Ay, and though speechless, speaking plain enough,
And at all seasons, Fatima is fair,
And Abon Hassan old, and jealous too.

Aladdin.
Fair sirs, I'm young and simple, shy, unschooled,
And therefore am I a most ready butt
For you to ply with arrows of your wit.

Bedreddin.
Oh! simple, very! Innocence itself!
The long and short of it is simply this—
You think the spouse of Abon Hassan fair,
And so she is. Yet do I know a maid,
That far excels her, lovely though she be.

Aladdin
(eagerly).
And who may she be, sir?

Bedreddin.
The Sultan's daughter,
The exquisite Gulnare. Oh, she is fair!
Fair as the first blush of the morning sun;
The big round moon, mantled in silver clouds,
Is not so bright, so witching to the view,
As the full radiance of her orbèd cheeks
Behind her tissued veil of new fallen snow.
And when she lifts the fringes of her eyes,
And looks aloft to heaven, oh then 'tis sweet,
As when the grave gives up its denizen,
And the blest soul ascends to Paradise.
In her hath nature made essay, young man,
To blend all opposites in perfect union.
The warmth of spring burns in the winter's snow,
And through the lustrous alabaster skin
The azure veins are faintly seen to gleam.
Who thinks that darkness can be luminous?
And yet there is no darkness half so black,
As her large, lamping, and voluptuous eyes.
Joyous and languishing, half earth, half heaven;
As ivory smooth; yet doth her dusky hair
Roll o'er her shoulders like a crispèd stream.
Here slender, there luxuriantly full,
The butterfly moves not more light, and she
Is good and gentle as the turtle dove.
But why essay to paint her, when all words
But mock the glory of her matchless beauty?

Aladdin.
Oh, dear sir, cease, I beg, implore you, cease!
I've held my breath till I was nearly choked,
For fear of interrupting you too soon;
If, sir, your sketch be like her, she is fair.

Bedreddin.
Like, said you? 'Tis a vile, a lying daub!
Mere botcher's work. Words are but as the threads
On the wrong side of tapestry, young man,
Whenever woman's beauty's in the case.

Aladdin.
I should be glad, kind sir, to learn the way
To get a view upon the proper side.

Bedreddin.
Hem! Almost every day, about this hour,
She goes to bathe! Now, if you have the pluck,
To steal behind a pillar out of sight,
Close by the door,—oh, many have done this!—
You may content your longing eyes at ease;
For commonly she puts her veil aside,
To cool herself, before she passes in.
But have a care, my good young friend, that this
Same doffing of her veil, which makes her cool,
Don't set you in a blaze.

Aladdin.
Nay, never fear.
You ask if I have pluck? What punishment
May one expect that's found there?

Ali.
A mere trifle!
What ducks and geese must very often bear;
Just to be spitted, or, perchance, to make
One leap, for the advantage of your health,
Down 'mongst the iron spikes around the tower.

Aladdin.
I said I was a simple youth, 'tis true,
And only to be likened to a goose,
But catch me coming to such gooselike end!

(Bows.)
Bedreddin.
Oh, don't believe him, sir! The Sultan is
An amiable man, and feels much flattered,
If anybody dares to snatch a glance;
If you're found out, your greatest punishment
Will be a hearty scolding from the eunuchs.

Aladdin.
But may I trust you now?

Bedreddin.
Most certainly.

Aladdin.
Some day, when leisure serves, and I've a mind,
I'll make the venture; I am busy now;
Some matters of the very greatest moment
Require my instant care;—so fare you well!

[Exit.
Bedreddin.
Busy? Of course. My smart young gentleman
Has posted off, I'd wager, to the bath,
As fast as feet can carry him.

Ali.
No doubt!
But 'twas too bad, it was, upon my life,
To put such maggots in the young man's head!
If the poor devil, now, should fall in love?

Bedreddin.
Then home he'll go heart-sick, as we did once,
And sleep his love off there as best he may.

[Exeunt.
A Garden.
In the background the Princess's Bagnio, a handsome building, with marble pillars.
Aladdin
(running in out of breath).
This is the place! Here, where the pillars stand,
Shall I be charmed into a pillar too?
In love and admiration lost, shall I
Like a Chaldean shepherd stand at gaze,
While the bright star gleams on across the sky?
Courage, Aladdin! If the guard should see me?
If they should wait here while she's in the bath?
No, no, they won't. They'll wait within the hall.
Ah, heaven! she comes! Now, to conceal myself!

[Enter Gulnare with her Nurse, followed by a large retinue of black Eunuchs. At the entrance she throws back her veil and uncovers her face.
The Nurse
(whispers to the Princess).
Look, daughter! look! What shameless impudence!
You see that young man by the pillar there!
It is to look at you he hides himself.
On with your veil!

Gulnare
(looking at Aladdin).
I am so hot, dear mother!
Nay, let him look; I'll pay him glance for glance.
How can you grudge him such a transient pleasure?

(They pass in).
Aladdin
(steps out from behind the pillar, and stands gazing motionless, with hands folded).
Yes, she is fair! An angel! Oh, what eyes!
And her mouth's smile, her bosom's rise and fall!
I never, never saw such eyes!—Oh, Allah!
I feel a strange commotion! Yes, 'tis true,
The merchant's sketch was but a botcher's work.
But how paint light with colours of the earth?
Colours are nought but shadows of the light!
Oh, gracious Allah! send her back again!
Oh, come again, and soon, thou beauteous Houri!
Here will I wait thy coming! Oh, return!

(He stands immovable as a statue.)
Morgiana
(enters with her market-basket on her arm; as she passes, she stops to look at the Bagnio).
Although I have a world of things to do,
To purchase beef and potherbs for the day,
I must have one good look, I always have,
At this same wondrous bagnio as I pass.
Oh, what immense pilasters, and so fine!
The bathing here must be quite excellent.
Heyday! What have we here? A spick and span
New marble statue, made like a young man.
Why, how he stares, stock still, without one wink!
And yet that's not so strange; he's only stone.
(draws nearer).
Oh, Mecca's Prophet, what is this I see?
It is my son! My very flesh and blood.
All stone, the kaftan, turban, boots and all!
Done to the life, his very counterpart!
How ever came he by this honour? Why,
They surely can't have done it for a jest,
Because he's only a poor tailor's son?
Let me go closer. Now he moves his arm,
And now, dear me! he brushes off a fly,
That settled on his nose. To think of that!
And now he rubs his nose. No, that can't be!
This is sheer witchcraft! 'Tis too much to ask
Of any statue. But perhaps it is
A puppet, that can move, and not a stone.
What's that? A sigh? That's more than statue can,
Or puppet either. It don't look fierce at all,
I'll peep a little closer. So, here goes!
(goes closer).
Aladdin, my dear child! I beg of you,
Speak, if 'twere but a word, that I may hear,
If you're indeed my son. But if I'm wrong,
And you are not Aladdin, but a stranger,
Do not be angry; but forgive your mother,
As a good, loving, loyal son should do.

Aladdin
(observes his mother, and leaps down).
How, mother, you? What are you doing here?

Morgiana.
I'm buying potherbs, beef, all sorts of things;
But what, sir, are you after, stuck up there
Like any popinjay?

Aladdin
(sighs).
Oh shape divine!

Morgiana.
The house, I grant you, has a handsome shape.
Of architecture nothing do I know,
And yet I can't help stopping every time
I pass this way to have a look at it.

Aladdin.
How, mother, how! You too stand here at times,
Here, on these steps?

Morgiana.
I?—bless your heart!—not I.
For, first, in vaulting I am not expert;
And secondly, my bones are old; and thirdly,
My petticoats are not near wide enough;
And fourthly, it would not become me quite;
And fifthly, standing in the corner there,
One cannot see the outside half so well,
As one can do out here. Now, come along.
I see they're opening the doors again,
And here's the Princess coming from the bath.
'Twill never do to linger here. No man
Is suffered to be by when she comes forth.

Aladdin
(lingers and looks round).
Ah me, dear mother!

Morgiana.
Come along, I say!
There, take my basket, sir, and carry it;
Help your old mother with her work, young man,
And don't stand gaping, like a ninny there!
[Aladdin reluctantly takes the basket and follows his mother.
That's right. What business has a lad like you
Casting sheep's glances after pretty girls?
Go on to market with the basket, child!

ACT THIRD.

A Street.
Aladdin
(enters with the large silver salver).
Of my great salver I will now dispose,
The last that's left me of my costly plate;
And when the price of that is spent and gone,
I'll rub my wondrous lamp again. And then—
Perhaps—perhaps—he is a spirit—and—
Oh, heaven! what am I mad enough to hope?
And wherefore not? All men are free to hope,
And he that has a spell to conjure spirits
Hopes not too much, even when he hopes for all.

[An old Christian goldsmith comes out of his booth, and accosts Aladdin.
Goldsmith.
Young master, by your leave, I've often seen you
Do business with the Jew here in the street.
Good honest men there are among the Jews,
Precisely as there are 'mongst other sects,
And knaves amongst them as amongst their neighbours.
But he, the Jew, who deals with you at times,
Is an arch knave.

Aladdin.
I've found that to my cost.

Goldsmith.
What did he give you for a plate like those
You used to sell him?

Aladdin.
Only a zecchin.

Goldsmith.
What! A zecchin? Oh, gentle God of Peace!
Five hundred will I give you, money down,
For this same salver. If another goldsmith
Should be disposed to give a trifle more,
Why, so will I, as well as he.

Aladdin.
You are
An honest man. (aside.)
Who'd e'er have thought to find
A conscience even amongst Christian men?
(Aloud.)
Come, sir, I will go with you to your shop.

The Jew
(rushes in out of breath).
Hey! Stop! You there! Ha, scoundrel, Christian dog!
And so you'd rob me of my customer?

Goldsmith.
Peace, or I'll tweak that rusty beard of thine,
Thou livid Judas, and so roughly too,
Thou'lt cheat no more unto thy dying day!

The Jew.
How,—Judas? Cheat? Can I believe my ears,
Or is it fancy? What I will, I will;
And that which I do buy, why that I buy;
And that which I do sell, why that I sell;
And if I have said A, I must say B,
Which is, in other words, I have the dish,
And so the salver also is my due.
But he that whisks my customers away
Is nothing but a thief.

Aladdin.
Dog of a Jew!
Are you deranged?

The Jew.
If I don't get that salver,
I'll go deranged, I will. Have it I must.
I reckoned on that salver long ago.

Aladdin
(beats him).
There, get thee gone, thou pale, and hungry knave!
Thou'dst cheat a Moslem, wouldst thou? Take thou that!

The Jew.
Moslem! Who talks of Moslem or of Jew?
And, as for cheating, I cheat all mankind,
And would the devil, for that matter, too.

Goldsmith.
Come, sir! We will go in. The man is crazed.
He's often subject to attacks like this
Of avaricious madness. Let us go.

Aladdin.
Since crazed thou art, thou shalt not lack for what
Thou richly hast deserved this many a day.
These unbelieving soles of thine shall taste
The Cadi's bastinado till thou roar'st.

[Exit with the Goldsmith.
The Jew.
Abraham! Isaac! Jacob! (Spits.)
Scoundrels all!
Call you this helping of your children's children?
I will go hang myself! Yes, that I will!
I had made sure of the pure, lovely silver,
As sure as though I had it in my chest.
What's life without gold and silver? Money, money!
That is our nation's true Messias, who
From all our troubles frees us. Oh lovely silver!
If I were laid upon my dying bed,
Sight fading from my eyes, and one should hold
A salver such as that before my view,
My life would straight come back to me again;
Back to my livid finger-tips the blood
Would flow; my fingers gain their strength anew,
And at the silver clutch with ecstasy.
Now I am ill. I shiver to the bones.
This salver, it was worth a goodly sum.
I will go hang myself; for how to live
After so great a loss I do not know.
I'll hang myself! But let me first away,
And steal the platter from the Christian dog!

[Exit.
A Chamber.
Morgiana
(at her wheel, spinning).
I can't think what's the matter with my son:
He is not ill;—no, no,—it can't be that.
He sits for hours together in a corner,
And never says a word, but stares, and sighs;
And if by any accident he speaks,
It is mere rambling incoherent stuff,
And no more has he of philosophy—
Yes, that's the name they call it!—than my cat.
I was so happy, for he had of late
Grown quite a prudent, careful, steady lad,
He earned his living with that lamp of his,
And in a kind of way it might be said,
To be the boy's vocation. So far, well!
But since the last few days he's quite upset!
Can he have fallen into consumption, eh?
Or caught the dropsy, measles, or the gout?
Here comes the boy! Allah, how ill he looks!

Aladdin
(sighs).
God bless you, mother! Here is money,—plenty!

[Throws a bag upon the table.
Morgiana.
How ever did you come by all that gold?
You never, never were so rich before.

Aladdin
(sighs).
Ah me! I never was so poor before.

Morgiana.
Of what then is the bag there full?

Aladdin.
Of gold.

Morgiana.
Gold, boy?

Aladdin.
Dear mother, let me have to drink.

Morgiana.
You are too hot; it is not well to drink,
Hot as you are.

Aladdin.
But one is thirstiest then.

Morgiana.
There, that was spoken sensibly for once!
Dear me, dear me! I am so glad to hear
Some words of sense come from you any how;
For, look ye, boy! the last ten days or so,
I've been quite puzzled to make head or tail
Of all the rambling nonsense you have talked.

Aladdin.
Have you no notion, mother, of the cause?

Morgiana.
I tell you, it quite beats my comprehension.
I am a plain, straightforward, simple woman.
What other folks may think, I do not know;
But what I think myself, I'm free to speak.

Aladdin.
What do you think? Tell me your thoughts, dear mother.

Morgiana.
Well, what I think, young man, is, that I think,
That what you think is thinking to no good.

Aladdin.
Well, then, what do I think?

Morgiana.
Heaven only knows!
Small trouble do I give myself about it.
I spin my cotton;—that I understand,
And do not plague my head with fancies, sir,
That shoot beyond the moon.

Aladdin.
That's very right.
So every man should spin his proper wheel.
And if, as it may be, the flax I spin
Is much too fine for you, and for your hand
My spindle is too high, and if your sight
Too feeble is to follow up the thread,
And so it snaps between your fingers,—then,
'Tis meet you stick to your old spinning-wheel,
And spin at that from morning until night.
Grease it at times with oil of modesty,
To keep its whirr from waxing over loud;
Call not its everlasting buzzing wisdom,
And scorn not what demands a higher skill.

Morgiana.
I should be glad to know, boy, which requires
Most toil and sweat,—to spin, or rub a lamp?

Aladdin.
He that is strong is slow to feel fatigue.
Whilst in the wood the insect bores its hole,
Allah swings round the sphere the circling sun:
Which, do you think, puts forth the greatest power?

Morgiana.
Whoever works with all his might and main
Deserves at least the most respect, young man.

Aladdin.
Then is the insect worthier than God.

Morgiana.
How you do mix up things; lamps, spinning-wheels,
Philosophy and skill, Allah and insects!
Boy, boy, your wits have gone wool-gathering,
Since you took up with these new-fangled books.
Just try, for once, and read the old ones too,
And they will bring them home to roost again.
But now I'll talk to you of something else.
What is the matter? Why are you so pale?
And why do you sit sighing all day long,
And staring straight before you? What's amiss?

Aladdin.
Mother, I am in love, heart-deep in love.
And therefore is it that I draw my breath
As deep as you do water from a well,
At summer tide, when all the streams run dry.

Morgiana.
In love, God bless the boy! With whom, with whom?

Aladdin.
Alas! our Sultan's daughter.

Morgiana.
What? Gulnare?

Aladdin.
Yes, mother, yes.

Morgiana.
The Princess?

Aladdin.
Even so.
[Morgiana weeps.
Why do you weep?

Morgiana.
I am so sad to think,
You are so clean forsaken by your wits.

Aladdin.
Hark, mother! Ah, I know not how it is,—
I can no longer chatter as I used,
And prattle freely what comes uppermost.
I have almost to force myself to speak.
Now my chief pleasure is to roam alone
Through wild woods, where the fluting of the birds
Chimes with the brook's sweet mellow under-song.
There all is vocal with Gulnara's name.
Now, mark my words; and if you would not see
Your son pine off and wither like a flower,
Go hence and do what I desire of you.

Morgiana.
What would you have me do?

Aladdin.
Go woo for me
With Sultan Soliman, and that at once.

Morgiana.
With Sultan Solomon? What should I say?
With Soliman? Yet Soli—Solomon,
It all comes to the same thing; one is not
More possible or proper than the other.

Aladdin.
Unless you'd see me at your feet a corpse,
You'll promise to do this for me, you will.

Morgiana.
Aladdin! Son! What freak of fancy's this?
A tailor's son!

Aladdin.
That any tailor's needle
Had any share in my begetting, I
Will ne'er believe. Al Sefi was my father.

Morgiana.
Is this the way, you knave, you speak to me?
To make the colour rush into my cheeks,
As rush it has not for this many a day.

Aladdin.
Mother, on this there needs no more be said.
I am the Emir's son—I know the fact.
You are a cooper's daughter; well, the mother
Of Sultan Soliman was but a slave.
He has an empire, and I have the lamp;
And so the scales are even.

Morgiana.
Oh no, no!
The Sultan sinks and makes you kick the beam.
To weigh the Persian empire 'gainst the lamp,
Is just as rational as if I were
To set a joint-stool 'gainst a velvet couch,
A sweet cake 'gainst a loaf of musty rye.

Aladdin.
And have you then forgotten, that the lamp
Possesses this slight virtue, that it can
Conjure up giants ready at a word
Our every wish and order to fulfil?

Morgiana.
No doubt, they bring us many a famous dinner;
But dinners are not princesses, my son.
I have a parlous fear our jug will go
So often to the spring, 'twill break at last,—
That some day, when the spirit's out of humour—
And why, pray, should he not, like other folks?—
He'll twist your neck, and make an end of you.

Aladdin.
Of that I've not the very smallest fear.
Enough! What I have asked you, you must do,
If you'd not have my death upon your conscience.

Morgiana.
Well then, suppose me there, what should I say?
“Lord Sultan, will you be so very good
As give your daughter to my son for wife?”
“Who are you, dame?” “Who, I? A tailor's wife!”
“And who may be your son?” “He is my son.”
“Nought else?” “No, please your Majesty; nought else.”
“And he desires to have my daughter?” “Yes,
He's over head and ears in love with her,
And wants to wed her.” What a fool I'd look!
And I should make him, too, so mad with rage,
He'd order his attendants instantly
To drive me forth with blows from the divan.

Aladdin.
You need not fear for that; he is not cruel.

Morgiana.
What's more,—oh, what an arrant goose you are!—
There is a re—script,—that's a sort of law,
By which it is enjoined, that no one dare
Approach his Majesty in the divan,
Unless he brings some valuable gift.

Aladdin.
Now, then, you reach the point I want to come to.
You've not forgot the fruit so large and fine,
That's lying in the lumber-room upstairs?

Morgiana.
You mean the painted glass? Is that your gift?
That, what you'd offer to the Sultan, boy?
A body then may say with perfect truth,
That as the donkey is, so is the bridle. (weeps)


Aladdin.
Mother! The things which you call painted glass
Are diamonds of the purest water,—ay,
Rubies, and sapphires, and choice emeralds,
Of rare, yea, priceless value; such as these
The Sultan cannot boast of in his crown.
This I discovered only recently.
So you shall take him these same precious stones,
And tell him they are sent by him that woos.
Trust me, his wrath will very quickly cool,
And you at least—this much I'll answer for—
Will not incur his Majesty's displeasure.

Morgiana.
How? Is this true? Bless me, and are they all
Diamonds and sapphires, then, these pebble stones?

Aladdin.
As certainly as that you are my mother,
And that I am Aladdin, your own son.
Now go at once, and get the business over,
But not a word, remember, of the lamp!

Morgiana.
Ah, well-a-day, what plagues one's children are!
I must obey your bidding, I suppose,
If they be precious stones, as you maintain.
But first I'll run a stitch, before I go,
Through the old lining of my Sunday cloak;
It's come undone;—and wash my hands with soap,
To take the strong smell of the yarn away.
A veil, too, I should buy myself, a bargain,
If I had but the money.

Aladdin.
Money, mother?
In yonder purse is more than you can want.
You never bear my copper lamp in mind.

Morgiana.
Would it had never come inside the house!

Aladdin.
I'm going out. I'll sit till sunset near
The fountain in the grove, outside the gates;
There you may bring me tidings how you speed,
And tell me if I am to live or die.

Morgiana.
I'll dress myself a bit, and go at once.

[Exit Aladdin.
The Divan.
Soliman upon the throne. The Grand Vizir, and the Council. Spectators. Business is over, and the crowd are dispersing.
Vizir.
Will't please your Majesty to give command,
Forthwith to shut the doors of the divan?

Soliman.
Nay, wait a little longer! That old woman
There at the door, who looks so very poor,
Has been here thrice already, and each time
Planted herself direct before the throne.
She bears two bundles; doubtless she is come
To seek for justice at our royal hands.
Perhaps some baker in the town has given her
Some half an ounce too little in her loaf;
And, simple soul, she'd have me weigh her loaves,
Instead of taking them before the Cadi.
Well, be it so! Go, fetch her here to me.

[The Vizir fetches Morgiana. She throws herself on her knees before the throne.
Soliman.
I have observed you here repeatedly;
And every time you looked at me, as though
You hoped that I would call you nearer. Well,
I have done so; now tell me what you want!
What have you in these napkins? Is it bread,
Your rascal baker knavishly hath clipped,
As avaricious Jews clip our zecchins?
Or has the butcher in the market cut
Your bit of beef too close upon the bone?
Or the greengrocer, with unblushing face,
Given you stale cabbage for your money's worth?

Morgiana.
Most mighty and most wonderful Lord King!
Sultan, I mean! Pray, take it not amiss,
If I shall happen to cut short your titles!
It's precious little that I know of rank,—
I am a poor tailor's widow, nothing more,
Called Morgiana;—lack-a-day! that's all.
My husband—he's dead now; but when he lived,
He was called Mustapha. What he's called now,
The blessed God in heaven alone can tell.
My son, too, he is not, as one may say,
Of any wonderful or great ascent—
His name—if I remember rightly—is—
But, bless my soul! my wits are quite confused
In this immense assembly; and, besides,
This kneeling's rather more than I can bear,
For my poor bones are old. But if, my Lord,
You'll only send these people from the hall,
And let me get upon my feet again,
And will come straight ere long, I fain would hope.

[Soliman gives a sign; all retire, except the Grand Vizir.
Soliman.
Rise up, my good old woman; do not fear,
And if you're tired, sit down upon the carpet.

Morgiana
(rises).
No, most substantial and grand Sultan! No!
You must not think, for all I am so poor,
That I am so unmannerly as that.

Soliman.
Say, then, what hast thou in the bundles there?
Is't bread or beef? Speak, dame! Or rotten fruit?

Morgiana.
The last, so please your gracious Majesty!
Sure, fruit it is; but rotten it is not.
Why, you may send it to Siberia,
And I will answer for it, it will keep.
It is a lot of lovely winter apples,
That no amount of frost will ever spoil.
But all things have their season, as your Grace's
Great, great-grandfather, Solomon the Wise,
Said once upon a time. As I was saying,
I have a son, Aladdin is his name,
A little over seventeen years—seventeen
Is all I own to—tall, and slim, and smart,
And glorious white and red, like milk and blood,
Clever, and ready at his lessons, too,
When he's disposed, though that's not often; hot
And passionate, but all right stuff at core.
I'll wager now, Lord Sultan, you and he
Would get along together famously.

Soliman.
I understand your wish. You fain would see
The lad hold some appointment at our court
Among the eunuchs.

Morgiana.
No! The heavens forefend!
Wide of the mark, your most Imperious Highness.
Oh—far, far wide! As touching that, your Grace,
He much prefers remaining as he is.

Soliman.
What wants he, then?

Morgiana.
What only he can want,
Who's knock'd a hole, and does not know it, sir,
In his brain-pan—right through the bottom, too—
Where, bit by bit, his wits keep tumbling out.
He is my son. They say, the apple falls
Close by the tree;—that any one may tell
The cow that once has had a calf; but then
Another proverb runs clean contrary;—
That brothers are one kind, but not one mind!
That all trees are not crooked in the wood,
Because one is. According to this saw,
You must not think, oh most stupendous monarch,
That in this fancy I had any part.

Soliman.
What is the fancy which your son has formed?
Out with it, and as briefly as you can!

Morgiana.
And so I will; but you must promise first,
Not to fly out into a passion, most
Illustrious Sultan, on my son's account.

Soliman.
Well, a boy's fancy cannot anger me.
What does he want?

Morgiana.
What does he want? (Aside.)
Now comes
The pinch! (Aloud.)
So please you, oh most gracious Sultan,
He'd fain contract a marriage out of hand,
If to the match you don't object.

Soliman.
With whom?

Morgiana.
Your daughter.

Soliman.
With Gulnare?

Morgiana.
Just so!

Soliman
(smiling).
Why, this
Comes on me rather unexpectedly;
The step is one of some importance, too.

Morgiana.
A truer word than that you never spoke.
There's nothing dearer than our flesh and blood,
And marriage surely either makes or mars.

Soliman.
Then, prithee, madam, leave this point awhile,
And say, what have you in the napkins there?

Morgiana.
It is the usage of the country here,
When seeking audience of your Majesty,
To come with a good handsome gift in hand.
In other countries, I have heard it said,
The servants pocket such gratuities;
You take them for yourself;—a better way,
For who is half so near us as ourselves?
As then I had a word to speak with you,
My son Aladdin gave me these two bundles
To offer you, by way of morning-gift.

Soliman.
Now, that is well; and as you said before,
They are fine, hardy winter apples, hey?

Morgiana.
They are, most gracious Sultan. But look here,
You'll find they're mixed with other sorts of fruits,
So please your Highness.

Soliman
(to the Vizir).
Take them all away!
And let them be delivered to the cook.

Vizir.
How? They are hard as stone, and smooth as glass:
They are glass!

Soliman.
Glass! Here! Hand them up to me;
Some skilful imitations, 'tis most like.
[The Vizir opens the napkins; the Sultan looks at them, and starts back in amazement.
What do I see? Pearls, rubies, diamonds,
As big as eggs, and sapphires large as plums,
And many other glorious gems besides!
A treasure quite immense. And this from you?

Morgiana
(boldly).
No, not from me, but from my son, great sir!

Soliman.
A treasure of incalculable worth.
Ha! weigh'd against these gems, my royal crown
Is but a mummer's cap of paste and tinsel.
Who is your son?

Morgiana.
A poor young tailor lad.

Soliman.
Oh, what a treasure! Look at the fine colours!
As the fresh radiance of the morning sun,
Breaking in myriad sparkles on the dew,
So shines the lustre of these glorious gems.
In them hath Nature blended all the pomp
And bloom and gorgeous beauty of the East.
Ha! darling gems, how ye rejoice my heart!
Go woman, go, and tell your son from me,
The man, whose gifts are treasures such as these,
May hope to marry with a prince's daughter.

Vizir
(aside to Morgiana).
Go home in peace, and wait in patience there,
Until you're summoned to the Court again.

[Morgiana drops a curtsey, and exit.
Soliman.
What say'st thou, Nuschirwan, my friend, to this
Great treasure?

Vizir
(coldly).
Certainly, the stones are fine.

Soliman.
And is this all?

Vizir.
I think the treasure is
Of most rare price.

Soliman.
Incalculably great!

Vizir.
Yet do I think, that my great Lord and Sultan
Himself possesses one far costlier gem,
Than all these put together.

Soliman.
I? A gem?
Art dreaming, Nuschirwan? What may it be?

Vizir.
Here, in your palace, mighty Soliman,
A diamond, and of the rarest water,
Which none but the pure gem of innocence
Is fit to hold.

Soliman.
Ha, now I comprehend you!
You mean Gulnare.

Vizir.
A gem, whose beauty shows
Not in the garish glitter of an hour.
Dead as a stone? No! full of sweet warm life.
A gem immaculate, of twofold price,
Whose inner worth its outer far outvies;
A gem, wherein all qualities are met.
The paler ruby is her crimson cheek,
The darker ruby is her cherry mouth,
Her eye a bright and glistening garnet is,
That in its tears of bliss drops diamonds;
Her radiant teeth are pearls in order strung;
All in a frame of alabaster set,
White as the snow, warm as the springtide sun.
And this fair flower, with living sweetness brimmed,
Shoot of a noble soil, and nobly grown,
Nourished and tended by imperial hands,
You would not barter for a lifeless stone?

Soliman.
Ha! Nuschirwan, thou speakest wisely.

Vizir.
Barter
To a presumptuous boy, who by some chance
Hath found this treasure here in your own realm;
Which, therefore, is not his to give, but yours!

Soliman.
Peace, Nuschirwan! The splendour of the stones
For the first moment so absorbed my soul,
It turned a heedless ear to what my lips
Were whispering to my memory the while.
Long since I gave my promise to your son;
And this first promise should alone prevent me,
Although there were no other obstacle,
From carrying out the second, rashly given.

Vizir.
When shall the rites be solemnized, my Lord?

Soliman.
This very night, that you may see how little
This recent folly has affected me.
Yet, 'twas not well these words escaped my lips
In the old woman's presence.

Vizir.
Ah, my Lord!
Along with many other properties,
Which words are known to have, they have this, too,
That they are words, which means they are but sounds,
Which pass away as lightly as they come.
If there be hands so rash and indiscreet
As try to catch at words upon the wing,
Why, in the world there's something else than words,
Things we call satellites, right sturdy knaves,
Who stand with pikes and halberds in their hands,
And from the palace drive such headstrong guests,
As come there when their presence is unwelcome.
Deny this free discretion to the Sultan,
Make every word he drops a bond to him,
And wherein does he differ from his slaves?

Soliman.
Marry, well said. A very pattern thou
For grand vizirs! Come, follow me within!
I must show Zulima this sumptuous gift.

[Exeunt.
A Street.
Evening. Noise in the street, most of the houses illuminated. Enter Morgiana. She knocks at a grocer's door.
Grocer
(puts his head out of the window).
Who's there? Leave off this knocking at my door!
I've told you, nothing will I sell to-night!
Can you not read? Look at my window there,
At my magnificent transparency,
An angel with a trumpet and a palm,
And an inscription with two lines of rhyme!
A grocer's not a dog, tied by the leg,
And bound to dip his fists into the soap
Or resin box at everybody's call.
This evening all the town enjoys itself;
And I too will enjoy myself for once.

Morgiana.
Sir Neighbour, in God's name, enjoy yourself,
As much as e'er you like; I don't object,
So you let me enjoy myself as well,
With oil enough to keep my lamp alight.
Else shall I sit, i' faith, the whole long night
In the dull dark, while all the city else
Has such a superfluity of light,
It looks as some eruption had broke out,
And all the streets glow, just for all the world
As if they'd caught a furious scarlet fever.

Grocer.
Aha, dame Morgiana! is it you?
Just wait a bit! I'm dazzled with this blaze,
And cannot see for sheer excess of light.

Morgiana.
And I can't see for sheer excess of darkness.

Grocer.
Ay, ay,—just so, just so! They dazzle both.
Too much, too little,—both are good for nought.
I will not, neighbour, go so close to work
With an old customer like you. So, come!
You want some oil—the best, eh?

Morgiana.
Bless you, no!
Some of the commonest will do for me;
But, mind, be sure to let me have it good.

Grocer.
You're economical.

Morgiana.
Ay, neighbour dear,
Else it would fare but ill with me. But tell me,
What does this lighting and rejoicing mean?
Hark! I hear music in the distance, too!

Grocer.
Are you the only soul in Ispahan,
Who does not know, our Sultan Soliman
This evening celebrates his daughter's marriage
With Saladin, the son of the Grand Vizir?

Morgiana.
What's that you say? What, what? Good neighbour mine,
I had a notion that you told me something.

Grocer.
In that you certainly were not deceived!

Morgiana.
I'm grieved to give you so much trouble, friend.
Put back the oil, and measure me instead
Some lavender-water for my halfpenny,—
I'm taken very ill.

Grocer.
God bless my soul!
What ails the woman? What's the matter, dame?
What's your objection to the match?

Morgiana.
I struck
My corns against the step here; that is all!
Good-bye. I have no time to spare for sights;
But must go home direct to tell my son.

[Exit.
Grocer.
See, there she goes full trot, and here am I,
Her money in my hand. What's to be done?
Ho, Morgiana! No, she's out of sight!
I am a man of substance and good name:
No man could ever say I did him wrong,
And what is more, I never in my life,
That is to say, directly, picked a pocket.
What in my trade was indirectly won
Is quite another thing. There all are thieves.
That in his calling every man's a thief,
Is one, I think, of the great Lokman's saws,
And a wise saw it is, and true withal.
But for this halfpenny! Oh holy Prophet,
'Tis a poor woman. Many and many a time
It's cut my very heart, to see her left
Without a bit of bread even in the house.
One can't help everybody! Just last week
I let her have a brace of plums for nothing,
To give her something for her teeth to do.
But for this halfpenny! Were I to die?—
It is a great, a heavy sin, God knows,
To enrich oneself with a poor widow's goods.
I'll make a memorandum in my book. (writes)

“Received a halfpenny from Morgiana;
If in return I am to give her oil
Or lavender-water, yet is dubious.”
Soh! now a load is off my heart; 'tis well;
It stands recorded here, come death or life!

[Exit into the house.
Aladdin's Chamber.
Aladdin standing with the lamp in his hand; he rubs it, when immediately appears
The Spirit of the Lamp,
and says:—
Mighty master, what desirest thou? Quick! Despatch me on thy 'hest!

Aladdin.
Scarce can I find words to frame it, for the rage that rends my breast.
Briefly hear a deed disgraceful, false all other guile above!
Sultan Soliman had granted the entreaty of my love.
I believed—oh, judge my rapture—that Gulnara mine should be,
Oh, the transports, the sweet frenzy, can I ever paint to thee!
But the Sultan, faithless, shameless, in his promised word's despite,
Gives to Saladin, the Vizir's son, my own dear love to-night.
Therefore storms my heart as darkly as the murky midnight hour;
Listen, then, what I command thee, then essay thine utmost power.
When now the divine Gulnara—in the thought there lies despair—
Enters the hushed nuptial chamber, to the hateful bridegroom there,
Soon as they are left together, take the couch where they recline,
Through the air transport it swiftly, up into the clear moonshine;
Through the cooling stream of ether bring them here without delay,
Set the couch within my chamber, but that caitiff bear away.
He shall watch upon the house-top, stiff and cold, and mad with pain,
But within the couch Gulnara, blooming beauty, shall remain.
By another spouse full quickly shall her heart be woo'd and won;
But so soon as in the orient purple-red appears the sun,
Come to fetch the couch, and bear it to the Sultan's palace back.
This to thee is my injunction. See it done, and do not slack!

Spirit of the Lamp.
Lord, I do what thou enjoinest.—Rest thee happy and serene!
Hadst thou but a moment longer tarried, plucked the flower had been.
(He vanishes for a moment, but returns immediately with the bridal bed in his arms, in which Saladin and Gulnare are lying; he takes out Saladin and says to Aladdin),
Now rejoice, my lord and master, while the caitiff o'er your heads
Keeps his watch, and gapes and goggles at the stars upon the leads.

[Vanishes with Saladin.
Gulnare
(raises herself upon the couch).
Where am I? Holy Prophet, where am I?
What gracious power invisible has saved me,
Even while despairing in his arms I lay,
And shrunk with terror from his loathed caress?
Where am I? Can this be some blessèd dream?
Can it be fancy, or do I behold
The handsome youth, who late concealed himself
Behind the pillar of my bagnio,
And since has hovered in my waking dreams?
Where am I? Holy Prophet, where am I?

Aladdin
(advances, and throws himself at her feet).
In the protection, dearest maid, of one,
Who without thee is but an empty shade,
Who loves thee truly, and whom Allah clothes
With wondrous power, that he may win thy hand.
Prithee look up and fear not! Far away
Is your detested bridegroom; while we speak,
He's fixed, stiff as a mummy, on the roof.
But tell me frankly, oh, my beautiful,
If thou canst love me? Seen me,—yes, thou hast,
And not forgotten? Oh, delicious hope!

[Takes her hand.
Gulnare.
Art thou a blessed angel, fair young man,
Sent by the Prophet for my rescue? Speak!

Aladdin.
Oh, how divine she is! The filmy veil
Essays, but all in vain, within its folds
To hide the bloom and beauty of her form.
Oh, tell me, thou most artless and most fair,
Canst thou, oh, canst thou love me? Speak!

Gulnare.
I loved thee
From the first moment I beheld thy face.
Pent in the harem from my infant years,
Few of thy sex have ever met my view.
Yet doth my heart assure me, there is none
Can ever be so dear to me as thou.

Aladdin.
Oh bliss of blisses! (Kisses her.)
Now thou art my bride.
No angel I! Praise be to heaven! I am
Mere flesh and blood, and mortal, like thyself.
Now sleep in peace. Here by thy side I'll rest;
But until Allah ratifies the bond,
That knits us each to each, shall this bare sword,
Which naked from its sheath I place between us,
Be like a cherub, scaring deadly sin
Far from the Eden of thy stainless soul.

The House-top.
Saladin
(leaning like a pillar against the balustrade, his head turned towards the stars).
Ha, treachery! disgrace! Ha, rage! despair!
How, still the same? Weak, miserable arm,
Canst thou not move? Ah, not one limb, one limb!
Here am I stuck, congealed and motionless.
I feel as if the marrow had been sucked
From all my bones. I've not a joint, but is
As stiff, and damp, as if I'd gone to sleep
Among the grass in the cold morning dew,
And woke up lame, by rheumatism set.
“Stand there!” he shouted with a ghastly grin,
“Stand like Lot's wife, a pillar, and of salt!”
And then he disappeared. Ha, death and hell!
A moment since, warm in my bridal bed,
On the fair bosom of a lovely girl;
Now—stock still as a mummy! Nothing stirs,
Save the cold wind that through my kaftan blows;
My miserable eyes turned up to heaven,
My tongue, the herald of a vile despair.
I never, never can survive this night!
Now lies another in those rounded arms!
Ha, madness! Ha, distracting jealousy!
Rob me of life at once! Ye pale, cold stars,
Fall down, and dash me to oblivion!

ACT FOURTH.

The Sultan's Palace.
Soliman. Zulima, his Wife. Gulnare. The Vizir. Saladin.
Soliman.
The grounds of the divorce are so peculiar,
And lie so very far beyond the bounds
Of what is either possible, or likely,
I'm fairly puzzled what reply to make.

Vizir.
Such, oh my liege, is my opinion too.
Experience shows, how readily the blood
Inflames the fancy with delirious dreams.

Soliman.
And yet that both of them should dream the same,
Is odd; yet is it not impossible.
And if we are to trust the tale at all,
'Tis better to believe it in the course
Of nature, than suppose a miracle.
In order to arrive, then, at the truth,
It will be best that we wait patiently,
And see the issue of the second night.
Then shall we both within the bridal room
Conceal ourselves, where we can see and hear,
And for ourselves decide upon the facts.

Vizir.
Thou art a sage, most mighty potentate!
If it was fancy, nothing shall we see;
But if the devil's hand be in the business,
Then we are sure to probe it to the root;
And in that case we may allow our children—
It cuts me to the heart, the very thought—
To be unfetter'd from the marriage bond.

Zulima.
What says my daughter to this fair resolve?

Gulnare.
I am submissive to my father's will.

Vizir.
We hold this business as concluded, then.

Saladin.
No, stop! I have some claim to be allowed
A little word or two in this affair.
I love your daughter, mighty Sultan, well;
My rare good fortune, too, I clearly see;
But not for her sake—no, not for the world,
Would I encounter such another night!
You have no notion what it is to stand
Stiff as a post, and rooted to the roof,
Contemplating the stars and milky way!
You have no notion what it is to be
By spirits pinched and squeezed, and pulled about!—
To see a strange man get into your bed,
And make himself at home there with your wife,
Whilst you aloft, like a mad dog, perforce
Must bay the dogstar and the grinning moon!
Gulnara there may well submit, for she
Stays in her warm and comfortable bed,
So wide and roomy, that the naked sword
Can do no harm; and, touching that same sworn,
I'm quite of your opinion, that 'tis hard
To credit what our own eyes have not seen.
Now I have really seen my bride abed,
With the enchanter nestling at her side;
But that same naked sword I have not seen!
Perhaps the thought of it is all a dream,
To follow your opinion, oh great Sultan!—
A mere creation of her virgin fancy.

Gulnare
(contemptuously).
Audacious wretch!

Zulima.
This language to my daughter!

Soliman.
Ha! by the Prophet, this is too absurd!
What! chafing still! There, fume away, my children!
Your peevish brawl is like the angry bay
Of a caged hound, that quarrels with the night,
Because the fleecy clouds play round the moon.

Vizir.
Call up your manhood, boy!

Saladin.
Not I, indeed;
I want to rid me of my womanhood.

Vizir.
Can you not brave the hazard one night more,
To win a pearl so far beyond all price?

Saladin.
Can you appraise his risk that dives for pearls?
If you can do so, multiply it o'er
An hundred thousand times. Such risk is mine.

Vizir.
By Mahomed, it might be dangerous
For some poor, puny, pitiful poltroon,
To find himself in such a case as yours;
But ne'er could I have dream'd such fears in you.

Saladin.
Make me not frantic! Tantalus was blest,
Compared with me: it was but water lapp'd
Against his baffled lips;—but I—oh hell!
Enough!—'Tis very palpable to me,
This business sets your reckonings all awry.
To be a sultan's brother is as fine,
I fancy, as to be his son-in-law.
Yet, father, you must arm yourself with patience!
'Tis a son's duty, doubtless, to obey;
But to stand nightly, for the family honour,
Cold sentry on the housetop, whilst another
Enjoys himself at leisure with my wife,
Is, you'll excuse me, Sir, too much to ask.

Vizir.
Forget not, boy, the pride, the self-respect,
Which your exalted station claims from you.

Saladin.
The exalted station on the roof, you mean?
To that, methinks, I have already shown
All due respect.

Vizir.
You always will fall back
On this preposterous vision.

Gulnare.
Oh dear father,
Grant, I entreat you, Saladin's desire.

Soliman.
What do you say, Vizir? What shall we do?

Vizir.
The tale is simply ludicrous, my liege.

The Captain of the Body Guard
(enters).
Sire, Ali Baba, the astrologer,
Awaits outside, with bald, uncovered head;
Something of moment he has come to tell.

Soliman.
Let him come in! (exit Captain.)
A sage and learned man,
Skilled in the mystic volume of the stars.
Far on the plain I've built for him a tower,
Where all night long he sits, with sleepless eyes,
Reading the marvels which the stars portend.

Saladin.
Marvels, indeed! Believe me, oh great Sultan,
There's not one grain of marvel stirring there:
One stands, and gapes, and yawns—and that is all!

Ali Baba
(enters).
God send to Persia's Sultan peace and joy,
Firm stand his throne, and may his race increase!

Soliman.
I thank thee! Say, what vision of the night
Hath brought thee hither from thy tower in haste?
But for such cause thou scarcely hadst come here.
Thou lovest solitude.

Ali Baba.
Ah, good my Lord!
An old man I, and weary of the world.
Earth's baubles have no longer charms for me;
Its greatest things seem little to the sage.
When old age shades us with his silvery wings,
Then ever more and more the eye is bent
Up to the star-sown canopy of heaven;
Thither we look, as to our real home,
The haven of our earthly pilgrimage.
As for myself, it is my joy and solace,
To watch, serene of soul, night's feeble rays,
Till heaven its mighty gates wide open flings,
And floods me with the radiance of the dawn.

Soliman.
What revelation dost thou bring me now?

Ali Baba.
As I last night, according to my wont,
Had climb'd into my tower, and there had pray'd,
Upon the moon I let my eyes repose,
And mused, how our great Prophet, on a time,
In order to the unbelieving earth
To prove his mission, beckoned it from heaven,
When, clanging down to earth, it fell, and broke
On either side the mountain Elikais:
Whereon by his all-powerful command,
He welded it anew, and bade it rise,
And shine in ether, as it did before.
As I stood musing thus with gaze intent,
The moon grew suddenly so pitchy dark,
That under it the earth seemed black as coal.
The owls shrieked dismally within the wood,
The village mastiffs suddenly grew dumb,
But still I kept my place, though sore perplexed
By the mysterious darkness; the whole sky
Was clear, without a cloud; besides, no cloud
Could have thrown such a shadow on the earth.
I thought, Perhaps 'tis the Eternal's will,
This very night to judge creation;
The Angel hath He summoned now of Death,
The mighty Israfil, who evermore
Stands ready with his flashing trump, at once
With shattering blast to shake the universe
To crumbling ruin. I was calm as now.
Yet as upon my knees, resigned to Heaven,
I waited in the dark for what might come,
The moon regained its lustre by degrees,
And in the clear light palpably I saw,
It was a mighty angel's dusky wings
Had o'er the sky diffused this strange eclipse.
Along the air he floated with a bed
Of ebony and gold, whereon were laid,
Clear to the sight, a woman and a man.
What unto us this wondrous sign portends
Is more than I can fathom. But I come,
Impelled by duty, with my dearest speed,
To make all known, my liege, to thee. Heaven grant
It bode no evil swiftly to ensue!

Saladin.
Evil, forsooth! What evil could ensue
Hath, by my beard, ensued already.

Soliman.
Beard!
You have none.

Saladin.
But I hope for one in time.

Ali Baba.
What do you mean, fair sir?

Soliman.
Say, hast thou not
Descried me through thy telescope, great sage,
Upon a certain house-top yesternight,
Fixed, like yourself, contemplating the stars?

Ali Baba.
What time, fair sir?

Saladin.
Why, shortly after you
Beheld that monster in the air.

Ali Baba.
Not I.

Saladin.
'Twas me you saw up yonder in the air.

Ali Baba.
You lay hard names upon yourself, young sir.

Saladin.
Ha, take me not for yonder devil's spawn!
Yonder great, black, unsightly vampire-bat!
I was but one of the two persons, you
Beheld reclining on the handsome bed.

Vizir.
Were you the woman, milkbeard, or the man?

Saladin.
The man! Good gracious! had I been the woman,
I should have been more pleasantly employed,
Than in research of that celestial lore,
Which, to my thinking, might be better styled
A lore downright infernal.

Ali Baba.
Sir, you rave.

Gulnare.
Beloved father, hesitate no longer.
Now thou must see, it was no feverish dream.

Soliman.
The ways of God are oft inscrutable;
Yet that this marriage is not blessed of heaven,
I see beyond all question. Be it then
Dissolved from this hour forth.

Gulnare.
Oh father, thanks!

Saladin.
Thanks, mighty Sultan, for this blest release
From bondage dire, that would have driven me mad!

Vizir
(aside).
Oh wretched churl! By heaven, he's not my son!
Such a vile recreant I could ne'er beget.
Ha, all my hopes are torn up by the roots,
And yet—I must be grateful to my liege.
Grateful? Oh Allah! (Aloud.)
Thanks, great Sultan; thanks!

Soliman.
Most strange! Now follow me to the Divan!

[Exeunt the Sultan and the Vizir. Gulnare follows her mother.
Ali Baba
(to Saladin).
Will you inform me, sir, what all this means?

Saladin.
Go goggle at the stars, and learn of them.
But, for myself, the world can't flout me now;
The cuckold's horns no longer grace my brow.

[Exit.
[Ali Baba returns to his tower.
The Divan.
Soliman; the Vizir; Spectators; the Council. Morgiana at the door.
Morgiana
(to a drunken peasant).
Good gracious me! don't poke me in the ribs!
Wait till you're call'd, and don't come bouncing so
Against a frail old woman like myself!

Peasant.
What business have you here? Go, get along!
You can't speak with his Majesty to-day.
He only talks to people of my rank,
Who come to see him on important business.

Morgiana.
Important business? Marry and indeed!
And don't I come upon important business?
I come, if you must know it, to arrange
The marriage of his daughter with my son.

Soliman.
Nuschirwan, dost thou see there, by the door,
The woman who, last week, presented me
With yonder glorious treasure?

Vizir.
Impudence!
The guard shall instantly—

Soliman.
Hold, Vizir, hold!
Remember what beseems my dignity,
And what doth wrong it. In the flush of joy
A promise 'scaped my lips, which cannot now
Be kept, indeed; but which with violence
I will not break; for violence begets
Anger, and anger generates revenge:
Where by a momentary prudence this
Can be avoided, it behoves it should.

Vizir.
My Sultan's words do make me smile perforce.
Anger, revenge! Revenge and anger! What!
A tailor lad and Sultan Soliman!

Soliman.
And what of that? Be who he may, he is
My subject still, and am I not his prince?
My state demands that I should tend the flock
Entrusted to my charge with loving care.
To treat it with a brutelike recklessness,
Were but to prove myself a sorry shepherd.

Vizir.
Forgive, my Lord, the outburst of my wrath,
And unto me, too, let your grace extend:
The coldest nature shows a hasty spark,
When its green wounds are roughly touched; and mine—
Need I add more?

Soliman.
Well, well—I understand.
Yet these green wounds, which gall us both alike,
You promised me, Nuschirwan, not to touch.
Let me forget them, then; and tell me what
You think is best and fittest to be done.

Vizir.
If all you wish be to get rid, my Lord,
Of the old fool, and not to punish her,
'Tis but to ask her love-sick son, what he
Can by no possibility fulfil.
This will effectually conclude the matter.

Soliman.
You counsel sagely. Bring the woman in,
And let the others for to-day depart.

[The Vizir calls in Morgiana, who throws herself down before the throne. The others retire.
Soliman
(sternly).
I recognise you, know why you are here;
My promise also have I not forgotten.
I said to you, the man who could afford
Such gifts to our exchequer as the last,
Might, if the rest were equal to the first,
Conceive the hope to wed a prince's daughter.
What then I said, old woman, I say still;
For if your son in treasure be so rich,
As his last gift doth give us cause to hope,
To such a bride he fairly may aspire.
Then, to make sure of this—for it might be,
Mere chance had thrown that treasure in his way—
I now desire, that he send here to me,
To-morrow at this hour, forty large vases,
Curiously carved, and of the purest gold.
These also he must fill with precious stones,
Much better than the former; every vase
Must by a handsome negro slave be borne;
And forty more white slaves must follow these.
Let this be done, and by my word I stand,
And give my daughter to your son for bride.
But if this be not done, let me no more
Have word or sign from you. Remembering
The gift which late you brought me, I forgive
Your son's audacious insolence this once;
But let him dare no farther to offend
With his unblushing importunity.

[Rises, and exit with the Vizir.
Morgiana.
Ay, ay; just so, just so! Did I not say it?
Have I not warned him as a mother should?
Not said a thousand times, Boy, stretch your hand
No farther out than you can draw it back?
Red shoes alone wont make a body dance.
Need you be told, that rotten eggs must make
Unsavoury cakes—that wooden covers go
With wooden bowls? That he who has no cat
Must catch his mice with owls, or let them gnaw;
And he that lacks for lime must build with loam?
Why, then, the Princess?—why but her? If you
Have neither horse nor ox, boy, take an ass.
But 'twas mere preaching in a deaf man's ear.
A buckler's no defence against a noose.
He'd have his way, because he had this lamp,
And our good Sultan courteous is and kind.
But never wake a sleeping dog; nor pull
A donkey's girth too tight! Beware of cats
That lap before, and use their claws behind.
We tread upon the worm until it turns.
Now, what a howl he'll make! Why did he then
Lie down between the corner and the door?
Like yarn, like cloth;—laugh in the morning, cry
Before the night. An oaken cudgel is
The true fool's towel;—as you make your bed,
So you must lie in't;—as the clay, the pay!

[Exit.
A Room.
Aladdin. (To him enters Morgiana).
Aladdin
(runs to meet her).
Well, dearest mother?

Morgiana.
Well, my dearest son?
(Aside.)
I've not the heart to let him know the truth.

Aladdin.
Well, mother!—Well now, tell me,—you have been—

Morgiana.
At the butcher's? Yes, boy, that indeed I have,
And got a famous joint of venison.

Aladdin.
That's not the question. You've—

Morgiana.
Been at the tailor's?
Oh yes; I just look'd in upon him! Dear,
What a good, kindly, honest soul it is!
Your father and himself were ever friends,—
Ay, though they both were tailors to their craft.
Your father, none could match him at a cloak:
The genius of the other lay in hose.
And so they rubbed along, the best of friends,
Each in his line a master of his needle.
They never fell to loggerheads, these two;
He always trumpeted your father's cloaks,
Who always trumpeted his hose in turn.
So all went bravely many and many a year.
That was the golden age of tailorhood!

Aladdin.
But, mother, tell me—

Morgiana.
What the tailor said?
Good dame, you may be sure of this, said he,
That I will stitch as soundly for your son,
As for himself he could have stitched, if he
Had followed out his father's handicraft.

Aladdin.
Who, in the fiend's name, asked about the tailor?

Morgiana.
Who soars too high, my son, must have a fall.

Aladdin.
Now do I see, too plainly, what the bell
Has struck; but, by mine honour, he shall find,—
This Sultan,—that he plays a dangerous game.

Morgiana.
'Tis bad, my son, to eat cherries with great folks,
For they are apt in very wantonness
To throw the stones into your face.

Aladdin.
I'll stone him!
But quick, quick, mother,—tell me everything!

Morgiana.
What shall I tell you, boy? You know the truth.
You have already guessed it to a turn.
It's no use stirring in this business more.
Best, once for all, to let the stone lie still,
You find too hard to lift: this sort of thing
Is just like writing black upon the chimney.

Aladdin.
I almost burst. Ha, Sultan, wait awhile!
Thou beggar king! Just wait, thou haughty churl;
I'll teach thee what it is to play with me,
As though I were the meanest of thy slaves!
I'll teach thee to fulfil thy plighted word!
Not long shalt thou contemn me, like the sheep,
That from the rocks bleats mockery at the wolf,
Because I cannot reach thee. Reach thee I shall!
Yes, by the Prophet's beard I swear it here!

Morgiana.
Pray curb these hasty paroxysms, boy.
They make you most unhappy—that they do.

Aladdin.
Unhappy? And what makes my happiness,
Or my unhappiness? Canst tell me that?
To live a noble life, unsoiled by shame,
That constitutes my happiness; to be
Abased and scorned, my chiefest misery.
To vanquish obstacles, be what they may,
Hath Allah gifted me with strength and will,
With so much pride and constancy combined,
That though my love should bring disaster, death,
Yet shall I triumph even in my fall.

Morgiana.
Snap goes the bowstring that's too highly strung.

Aladdin.
Yes, if 'twas never fit to bear a strain.
Great Heaven! Shall the free spirit ne'er aspire!
Must we for ever stoop, for ever crawl?
But, psha! Enough of this! Tell me what passed.
He ordered you away, no doubt, at once?
No doubt he chid you for audacity,
And did not choose to recognise you?

Morgiana.
No,
That he did not, but, on the contrary,
Stuck to the promise which he gave before.
But what can all his promises avail?
They leave us just precisely where we were.

Aladdin.
What did he say?

Morgiana.
He said, if you to-morrow
Should send him forty vases, all of gold,
And filled with painted crystal, like the last,
That you should have his daughter for your wife.
But, look you! every vase was to be brought
By a black slave, and he,—his very words,—
Must be attended by another, white.
But how is all this to be brought about?

Aladdin.
How, mother, how! And this is all he asked?

Morgiana.
All! And a mighty deal too much, say I.

Aladdin.
Why did you fire my blood without a cause,
And stir my anger 'gainst the Sultan thus?
Most moderate, in sooth, is his demand,
And by to-morrow it shall be fulfilled.

Morgiana.
To-morrow! By to-morrow! Well, and how?

Aladdin.
How? By the lamp!

Morgiana.
The lamp! Ods pitikins!
The lamp! That's true! I never thought of that.
Who can remember an old rusty lamp?
The lamp, boy! So you really think, the lamp—

Aladdin.
Yes, mother, certainly—beyond a doubt.

Morgiana.
You and the lamp be blessed! Nobody has
A lamp like this, of course, but you; I mean,
That everybody has a lamp, but this—

Aladdin.
Is a lamp, mother, of no common kind.

Morgiana.
Still, boy, I have my doubts. To do all this
May be beyond the Spirit.

Aladdin.
We shall see.
What is beyond his power, and what is not,
The Spirit for himself can best decide;
We'll ascertain at once. (Takes out the lamp.)


Morgiana.
Just wait a bit,
I want to purchase something in the town,
And, as it's growing dark, I must be off. (Runs out.)


Aladdin.
She cannot get the lamp into her head!
She always will forget it. Strange enough!
While for my life she plans and schemes all day,
Her thoughts should never turn upon the lamp!
To her I'm but her son, not the lamp's lord;
Now, if I be its lord, this test will show.

(Rubs the lamp.)
The Spirit
(appears).
Lord, what will'st thou? Straight give order! All thy wishes to fulfil,
Hath Almighty Allah gifted me with power and strength and will.

Aladdin.
Precious to me is thine aidance; strong and great art thou, and I
Therefore with a bold assurance on thy potent help rely.

Spirit.
What thou wishest, say, and waste not praises of my skill and might.

Aladdin.
Forty mighty golden vases, as the flashing sunbeams bright,
Through the filmy streams of ether must thou bring me, brimming o'er
With the diamond's lustrous water, with the ruby's rosy gore;
With the emerald's earthy verdure, with the sapphire's heavenly blue,
As they gleam and glow in beauty in the mountain's spring-tide dew,
Large and lustrous, each a marvel, with no flaw in all their sheen,
As they bloomed within the garden, hidden deep the rocks between.
There no black stone intermingles, to set off the radiance gay,
But black slaves must bear the vases, night shall bring the glorious day.
And, a more imposing contrast to the mingling hues to lend,
Forty white slaves you must find me, with that dusky train to blend.
Pair by pair these slaves shall mingle, white and black and black and white;
Lay on every vase a napkin, woven with tissues dipt in light,
Where on ground of softest velvet, copied in the silk, are seen,
Rose and tulip and carnation, budding from the meadow green.
All this by to-morrow bring me, then thy power is firm and good.

Spirit
(in the act of vanishing).
They shall stand, great lord and master, there where even now I stood.

Aladdin
(rubs the lamp).
Not so fast, thou best of servants; stay, my further 'hests to hear!

Spirit
(reappears).
Thou hast but to rub, oh master! and straightway I reappear.

Aladdin.
List, then, to what more I order! Dexterous art thou, and swift:
All these treasures, I have ordered, for the Sultan are a gift;
And already thou divinest, I must come in such array,
As beseems a prince, before him such a princely gift to lay.
First a bath must thou prepare me, where on every wall doth shine
Marble, agate stone, and jasper, quaintly carved and polished fine.
Let two streams of purest water, hot and cold, be flowing still,
So contrived that I may mingle either current at my will.
There, attending on my pleasure, must be maidens fair and bright,
With sweet balsams to anoint me, and to steep me in delight.
Then the finest kaftan bring me, diapered with jewels rare,
Next a sabre of Damascus, and a wild Arabian mare,
Wild, but which the costly bridle at my will can turn and wind;
Fetch my mother, too, all vestments whereunto she hath a mind.
Bring her trusty handmaids also, oh thou Spirit good and great!
Who, to execute her wishes, on her every step shall wait.
Do thou this, and do it swiftly, and thy praise I'll sound alway!

Spirit.
All which thou hast yet commanded is to me but baby's play.

[Vanishes.
Aladdin
(rubs the lamp).
Servant, I again must call thee; doubly long thou mak'st thy flight.

Spirit
(appears).
Thou wilt sooner tire of rubbing, than will I of toil so light.

Aladdin.
When now all is fairly ordered, and when all is now complete,
When the nuptial hour approaches, hour of rapture heavenly sweet!
Then shalt thou a palace rear me, all of pure white marble, there,
Full before the Sultan's harem, in the midst of the great square;
After thine own wisdom rear it; but let it be gorgeous all,
Store it with the costliest treasures, and within it build a hall,
Vast, four-square, and highly vaulted, peerless for its pomp and pride;
Four-and-twenty spacious windows make for me on every side:
Yet of these so matchless windows one imperfect thou shalt leave,
Wherefore thus I do command thee, thou, true servant, wilt conceive.
Solemnize my nuptials nobly, make all sumptuous, festive, bright,
Let the torches fume with amber, day arise from dusky night.
Choirs of nimbly-footing fairies bring to lead the dance along,
Whilst a throng of loveliest damsels thrill all hearts with lute and song.
Canst thou do this? Of my wishes this within my heart is chief.

Spirit.
Yes; as easily, oh master! as the zephyr stirs the leaf.

[Vanishes.

ACT FIFTH.

The Entrance to the Sultan's Palace.
First Sentinel.
What do I see? What a great swarm of men
Is coming to the palace down the street!
A grand procession of distinguished strangers,—
Princes they are, that's clear. Run, Hassan, run
And let the Sultan know, with your best haste,
That several princes from some distant land
Are on the road to visit him to-day.

[Exit Second Sentinel.
(Eighty black and white slaves enter slowly in procession, the black bearing the vases on their heads. After them enters Morgiana, sumptuously clad, attended by six female slaves. Soliman, attended by his Vizir and body-guard, meets them on the steps of the palace. As the first slave reaches the top, he speaks.)
Soliman.
Welcome, my trusty and belovèd kinsman, welcome!
Great, yea, most great, the joy that fills our heart,
To see you here thus unexpectedly.

The Slave
(kneels).
I am a slave, oh mighty Lord; no prince!
The eightieth merely in this long array.
Most humbly we approach, here at thy feet
To lay the gifts Aladdin promised thee.

Soliman.
You—slaves, and thus right royally attired?
From him? The tail—the stripling? From Aladdin?

Slave.
Yes, mighty Sultan.

Soliman.
And the aged dame,
Attended by these lovely creatures, is—

Slave.
His mother, Sire.

Soliman.
His—What? The tailor's widow?

Morgiana
(throwing back her veil).
The same, most mighty Sultan! So, you don't
Know me again? That's probably because
I wear a veil.

Soliman.
Vizir!

Vizir.
My gracious liege!

Soliman.
What say you now?

Vizir.
I'm dumb! I'm petrified.

Soliman.
Come on, dear madam,—to the palace! Come!
And there you shall awake me from my dream.

Morgiana.
Ah, not a bit of it's a dream, Sir Sultan!
'Tis simple, downright, plain, straightforward fact,
And not a grain of witchcraft in it all.
Come, follow, slaves, me and your master! Come!

Soliman.
If this be not a dream, and no delusion,
Gulnara soon will be Aladdin's bride.

The Slaves
(shout).
Long live great Soliman! Long live Aladdin!

[Exeunt into the palace.
A Beautiful Marble Bath.
Aladdin (waited on by invisible fairies).
Peribanou,
their Queen.
Fair youth, we wait thy pleasure;
Lo, all thou seest is thine;
Here all thy heart but yearned for
In magic light doth shine.
The chamber's lofty arches
Are bold and sculptured fair,
And walls of polished marble
Are round thee everywhere.
With sand of alabaster
The floor is softly strewn;
The bath exhales the perfume
Of sweet flowers newly blown.
Its surface, like a mirror,
Reflects thy visage near;
Oh, see the limpid water,
As starry diamonds clear!
Here, to the right, a fountain
Of icy coolness flows;
Along a bed it wimples
Of the lily and the rose.
Here to the left is streaming
A river's tiny arm;
It gushes from the mountain,
And it is soft and warm.
Then mingle at thy pleasure—
The means are by thy side—
The cool flower-shaded brooklet,
With the glowing rock-born tide.
And when with quickened vigour
Thou leav'st the waters bright;
Fair maiden hands shall dry thee,
And lap thee in delight.

Aladdin.
Ha! voice of sweetness, let me see thy mouth,
The flute through which thy witching accents flow!
Why dost thou hide thyself, oh beauteous rose,
So cruelly, the whilst a nightingale
Trills on thy crimson petals her glad strain?

Peribanou.
Content thee, youth, content thee
With the perfume of the rose;
Seek not to view, nor fondle,
What are but airy shows.
We are here, above, around thee,
But of earth thy glances be;
The creatures of the element
They pierce, but cannot see.
Then such fond wishes banish,
Learn thou our might to prize;
Ourselves we show but rarely
In earthly woman's guise.
Oh dear young man, but rarely,
And ne'er in open day;
In the bath before a stripling
So frolicsome and gay.

Aladdin.
Oh, pain in every pleasure—every joy!

The Fairies
(sing).
Play, ye limpid waters, fondly
Round these limbs so sweetly rounded;
Make the sturdy sinews pliant,
Hard and strong the youthful nerves.

Aladdin.
How! Was it not as though the water sang?

Fairies.
Cool is now thy hot blood's crimson;
Sweetly is thy heart refreshed;
Glorious are thy locks resplendent;
From the bath new-nerved arise!

Aladdin.
How! Was it not as though the ether rang?

Fairies.
From the bath new-nerved arise!

Aladdin.
I rise! What tones, what rapturous sensation!
By zephyr's viewless pinions I am fann'd,
By breezes, which a fragrant warmth have drawn
From the deep bosom of a bursting rose.

Peribanou.
Now let Beauty come apace
To the bath with rosy grace;
Strength too, rough, o'ergrown with hair,
Hasting from his forest lair!

Strength and Beauty, a giant and a fairy, enter, but are also invisible to Aladdin; the former bearing a sponge, the latter bearing a hyacinth.
Strength.
Strong art thou, but at my bidding greater strength shall soon be thine.

Beauty.
Fair art thou, but soon, Aladdin, shalt thou fairer be at mine.

Strength.
Every thew shall swell and harden, underneath my rubbing hand.

Beauty.
Every limb I'll round and soften with this flower from fairy land.

Strength.
Ampler still must be thy shoulders, stalwart each and rounded well.

Beauty.
In thine eyes a deeper hazel shall love's secrets sweetly tell.

Strength.
Now thy chest is narrow, quickly shall it arch in amplest might.

Beauty.
Cheek, to me too like a maiden's seems thy rosy lustre bright!

Strength.
Let the back in sinewy vigour, like hewn marble, smoothly shine.

Beauty.
Only just a trifle smaller must I make those lips of thine.

Strength.
Broader be thy feet, and stronger; like a rock thou'lt stand in place.

Beauty.
Thine shall be a just proportion, not too tall to move with grace.

Strength.
Boldly shall thy lofty forehead tell of spirit, power, and pride.

Beauty.
Arching eyebrows shall betoken worth doth there with strength abide.

Strength.
Beauty, he is not a maiden, but a man. Then have a care!

Beauty.
Right; so they must droop serenely, with a high and thoughtful air.

Strength.
Straighter still the swelling haunches, and the arm an oaken root.

Beauty.
Whiter still the fair round fingers, smaller too must be the foot.

Strength.
In thy heart I pour, all glowing, heroes' blood unstained by guile.

Beauty.
Love's pure flame, the sweet, the holy, thus unto thine eyes I smile.

Strength.
Of thy foes be thou the terror; like a lion to pursue.

Beauty.
Bloom thou, ever loved of beauty, and to loving beauty true.

Both.
Thus have I, oh youth belovèd, all my gifts bestowed on thee.
Henceforth may thy life be sunshine, ever happy, ever free!

[They vanish.
The Sultan's Palace.
Soliman. Aladdin.
Soliman.
To Allah and the Prophet I give thanks,
That such a worthy son-in-law have sent me.
Thy wealth I scarcely yet can comprehend;
Surpassing is thy beauty; spirit, health,
And constancy are beaming in thine eyes.
Oh noble youth, thou dost deserve my daughter:
Of that I'm well convinced. Another man
Would ask, perchance, how thou camest by thy wealth,
Who, what thou art and more! So do not I.
Since thou to keep this secret thinkest meet,
Doubtless thou hast good reasons of thine own,
Which though I knew, what better should I be?
I see well what thou hast; but how thou hast it,
I do not know; but better do I know,
How I, or any other child of Adam,
Have what we have? Enough to know the “what:”
'Tis only fools make question of the “how.”

Aladdin.
Great Sultan, these your noble words of wisdom
Refresh my soul, as morning dews that fall
From the high cedar's top refresh the bush,
Which seeks a shelter in its giant shade.

Soliman.
To-morrow, then, and with the dawn, my son,
We celebrate in state thy nuptial feast.

Aladdin.
The bee, great Sultan, yearneth not at morn
More fondly for the rose's honey'd cup,
Than I to rest within her arms divine;
The grass, bent with the stormy rains of night,
Not more impatiently awaits the sun,
To lift its head with added strength anew,
Than I, bow'd down by love's long feverish watch,
Await the gracious smiling of her eyes.
Yet I entreat, the marriage, oh my Sire,
May be postponed but for some little space,
Till in the square, before the palace here,
I have a mansion built, may worthily
Receive a mistress so unparagoned.

Soliman.
My son, I will concede the boon you ask.
How long will you require to be prepared?

Aladdin.
That I can not with certainty foretell;
But this at least I know, 'twill not be long;
My masons are unmatch'd for industry.

Soliman.
So be it, then. Now, come to the divan,
That I may there acquaint thee with the duties
Of my vicegerent, and the burdens, thou
Must henceforth as my son submit to share.

Aladdin.
Ah, if the needful strength were only mine!
But you shall strengthen me; your wisdom shall
Upraise me, whensoe'er I droop or fall.

[Exeunt.
The Great Square in front of the Palace.
Night. Spirits of the Lamp, engaged in building the Palace.
First Spirit.
There! The first stone is fast, and stuffed with golden coins!
Get me but freestone now, and I shall build apace.

Two Others
(advance through the air with massive blocks of stone).
Here's stone for thee! A lovely marble, white as milk,
With veins as blue as e'er gleam'd through a young maid's skin.
Out of the Caucasus we quarried them, and swift
Have posted hither; yet not fast enough for you!
A band of shepherd youths sat fluting on the cliff;
The fairest of their maids, unseen of her, we caught,
And from her rounded throat the napkin tore away,
That with her bosom we our marble might compare.
But straightway spread a purple bloom o'er all her breast
Of maiden bashfulness; “Look!” with a laugh we cried,
“The marble, child, is like thy bosom, white and full,
Yet blush so sweet as clothes thy breast no stone can show!”

First Spirit.
Who brings me lime? Ho, lime, I say; now, be alive!

Two Others.
Here's lime from Hindostan, dug from the central earth!
A dazzling white! but sprinkled here and there with blood.
At the dead hour of midnight, by the King's command,
The head of a blaspheming rebel was to fall.
Then to the scaffold we upon our errand flew.
Loud rang the axe: his blood shot heavenwards in a stream;
But, mixed with it, the lime will have a firmer hold.

First Spirit.
Who'll fetch me from the North a granite corner-stone?

Two Others.
Here is a stone, a sacred stone, will last for aye.
We stole it in far Norway from a peasant band,
Who bore it from the quarry to their monarch's grave,
Which newly had been closed. Here's dew upon the stone,
Will harden it against the tooth of wasting time,
For 'tis the tear of sorrow, given to parted worth.

First Spirit.
Who now will bring me carvings for the cornice here?

Two Others.
Into a giant whale we two transformed ourselves,
And down beneath the ocean's foam and sedges plunged,
Till far, far in the South, against an isle we drove,
All netted round with coral and thick-clustering shells;
These from the ground we tore away, and on our head
Set, like a wreath, the whole red jaggèd labyrinth,
For thee to fasten in festoons around the wall.

First Spirit.
Where now shall I find pearls, and radiant carbuncles?

Two Others.
We come rich-laden from the vale of diamonds,
That's fenced and girdled round with precipices steep,
To mortal tread for ever inaccessible.
Upon the distant rocks some merchants throng'd, agape,
In hopes to see the eagle to his nest return.
For round about his talons lumps of meat they tie,
And when into the vale he swoops upon his prey,
To sate his hunger on the snakes and vermin there,
The diamonds cleave unto the beef beneath his feet.
And every merchant has his nest; and thence he hopes
To find a fortune wafted to him through the air.
To-day their hopes were fated to be dash'd; for we
Swept for ourselves away gems, eagle, nest, and all,
And left the gapers standing pale in blank despair.

First Spirit.
Who brings me pictures now unmatchable in worth?

Two Others.
See, here they are, my friend! To Italy we flew.
Beneath the silver moon a pair of lovers sat,
And the bride sang a tender lay to her guitar;
Unseen, beneath a pile of ruins, they were hid,
Which in that country's tongue are Herculaneum styled.
Amain we dived, as dive the wild geese in the sea,
Deep down into the earth, and brought these pictures thence.
Magnificently they will deck thy great saloon.

First Spirit.
Now, where shall I find gold, my mouldings to enrich?

Two Others.
See, here is golden ore, sufficient and to spare!
We wing'd our viewless way to Afric's lonely waste:
The midnight cool hung o'er it: on the tawny sand
The moon shed tawny light, and tawny lions round
And round the desert roamed, and with their claws tore up
The tawny gold in masses from the spungy earth,
And in the filmy moonlight toss'd them to and fro.
Ten steers we flung them, we from Barbary had brought,
And, whilst the lions were despatching these, we took
The gold. Such lumps thou never hast till now beheld.

First Spirit.
And now for silk, is meet to deck imperial walls!

Two Others.
From China, from the wood of mulberries we come,
Where in the starlight clear the silvery brooklet runs,
And countless silkworms spin their webs unceasingly.
More than we bring thee here thou'lt scarcely lack, my friend.

First Spirit.
Who'll fetch me pillars now, to bear the palace gates?

Two Others.
To Taurus' skyey peak we clomb, and look'd around;
There in the vale a herd of elephants we saw,
Trampling a peasant's corn-fields down into the clay.
To punish this wild pastime on the plain we swoop'd,
And from the creatures wrench'd their tusks right cunningly.
Look here, what sickles! Hast thou e'er beheld the like?

First Spirit.
Now in the cold moonshine I'll pillars carve from them.
But copper for the palace roof who next will bring?

Two Others.
Two mighty armies were encamped in Tartary.
The ground was strewn with helmets, shields, spears, shirts of mail,
And every shield was blood-red copper of Japan.
These seem'd to us right handy copings for the roof,
And so from every hero there his shield we stole,
Though he had laid it down as pillow for his head.
When they awake at dawn,—lo! every shield is gone!
Good! they will have to wield their swords to more account.

First Spirit.
Now for a diamond staff to crown the tower withal!

Two Others.
A youthful king, milk-bearded, sat upon a throne,
And slept, the sceptre in his left hand, upside down,
And dreamily he swung it, like a baby's toy,
Among a slavish horde; so that the last remains
Of order disappeared, and all to chaos fell.
In anger, from the feeble hand we wrench'd the staff;
Here it will shine, and boldly heavenwards still aspire.

First Spirit.
Thus do I crown the whole with the ruby's lustrous fire.
[He puts the coping on the peak of the tower, and then contemplates the building.
Oh, see, friends, how the moonbeams, softly gilding all,
Are smiling on the new and snow-white marble wall!
Her moist rays curiously peer through the window bars;
The pinnacles are bright, and twinkle like the stars.
But now from distant ocean's verge the morning glows,
And on our copper roof a furtive glance she throws.
How day will marvel, when it sees the palace there,
Born in a night, and yet so perfect and so fair!
Ah, look there, how the dome towers proudly into view!
Go, fetch me brightest tints; bring thou an azure blue,
And thou, dive southward far into the deep dark sea,
And bring a purple conch right suddenly to me!
Then roses I will paint, shall bloom, 'midst leafage green,
When garden roses long to dust have withered been.
Thee next I'll sketch, Gulnare! Thy swan-like bosom white
Shall fire thy children's children with still new delight.
Here shall the youth enamour'd gaze, and say full oft,
“Our grandame's bosom, oh, how full it was, and soft!
Who ever would believe, that Time, so old and hoar,
Could give such beauty birth, for ages to adore?”
And when his hair is grey, his eye will glow anew
With all its youthful fire, her likeness here to view.
Thus youth and age will rise, and wither and decay;
But in the picture she bloom freshly as to-day.
See, how she smiles! Ho, Spirits, quickly do my will!
Here 'tis a shade too small, and here too ample still.
No more! 'Tis nobly done! But, hark! what cry was there?

[The cock crows.
All the Spirits.
Red-crested watchman calls. We scent the morning air.
Now mounts the sun, the earth with golden glow to cheer;
When mortals wake to toil, we Spirits disappear.

[They vanish.
The Harem.
Gulnare
(in a bridal dress).
The dreadful hour approaches! How I tremble!
Deliver me, kind Heaven! Once hast thou saved me,
And brought me by a miracle to him,
Who reigns alone, supreme, within my heart.
How happy was I then! But, oh kind Allah!
Didst thou release me from the tiger's claws,
That I might fall a victim to the pard?
Oh no; that cannot be! It must not be!
For then thy mercy had been cruelty.
Ah me! what fate was ever like to mine?
Bound to a man I loathed,—then, in the hour
Of my despair, saved by a youth divine.
Oh, how I love him! Thou slim cedar, thou!
Like palm-leaves waves thy undulating hair;
Thy kindling eye is like the antelope's,
And like the crimson tulip are thy cheeks.
The moon shines in the firmament of heaven
Not half so fair as thou in that of love!
What free-born pine-tree on the rocks doth lift
Its head so high and haughtily as thou?
Yet was a shepherd's mildness in thy glance.
Love's gentle yearnings nestle in thy heart.
Oh, how he loved me! and how blest was I!
But woe's me,—sever'd suddenly again,
Alone within my chamber I am left
To mourn the piteous loss, until the tears
Of my despair are stifled, as they flow,
By the dread news of fresh calamity.
Oh cruel father, wilt thou sell me now
To some coarse creature of the boorish mob?
How blest is woman in the Frankish land!
There her best feelings—all she prizes most—
Are not contemned and trampled in the dust.
Man doth respect her there, and cherish her
As nature's fairest blossom. There a maid
Culls for herself, and is not handed o'er,
The mindless bond-slave of an unknown lord.
The husband there for mistress owns his wife;
And there the lion lets himself be led,
Gentle and tame, by beauty's leading strings.
Oh, that must be a good, a glorious land!
Would I might live there! Yet I would not, no!
For then were I still farther from thy side,
Invisible beloved one of my heart!
Oh, if thou wert no phantom of a dream,
Appear: come forth in all thy youthful pride,
Strong as a lion, as a tiger lithe,
Warm as the sun, and lovely as the moon!
Thine own love calls to thee in her despair!
Oh, come, and bring her rescue from a strait
More piteous, and more cruel far than death!
Enter Soliman with Aladdin, the Suite, and Court Jester.
Oh heavens! (Throws herself at Aladdin's feet.)

Good Angel, hast thou heard my prayer?
And hasted hither, from the vulture's claws
To save the frightened lamb? My Gabriel thou!
For my sake hast thou left thy glorious home
In Paradise above?

Aladdin.
My dearest bride!

Soliman
(aside).
What means all this? I thought to find her still
Bathed in her tears, and overwhelmed with grief.
I had my father's sternness all prepared,
And now, instead of scratching out his eyes,
As she declared she was resolved to do,
Down at his feet she falls, and worships him
As an archangel! Well, well! I must say,
They are strange creatures, these same womenfolks!

Gulnare.
Oh, most unlooked for chance! Oh, sweet surprise!

Soliman.
How! Chance!—Surprise! Reflect, reflect, Gulnare!
What will this hairbrained creature come to next?
Thou wert prepared beforehand.

Gulnare.
I prepared?
You told me I was destined for a wretch,—
A miserable slave you called Aladdin.

Soliman.
That miserable slave, that wretch, my child,
Is he, you clasp so fondly to your breast.

Gulnare.
Art thou he?

Aladdin.
Yes, my love!

Soliman.
Compose yourself.
It gives me joy to see you weep no more;
Yet must you not give full career to mirth.
The gravity, which evermore should grace
A princely forehead, is a flower that scorns
The rain of tears and sun of smiles alike;
For only in the shade it strikes a root,
And blooms the fairest in an arid soil.

Jester.
Marry, well said; that's my opinion too.

Soliman.
She neither sees nor hears me.

Jester.
Talk away.
I'll lend a patient hearing to thy saws,
While the young folks are in each other wrapt.

Gulnare
(to Aladdin).
And that great lovely palace, is it thine?

Aladdin.
No, no; thou dearest of all womankind,
That is thy temple, and the throne of love!

Gulnare.
And thou my bridegroom?

Aladdin.
Yes, beloved, yes!

Gulnare.
I know not if I wake, or if I dream.
If waking, I am blest past words to tell;
But if a dream it be,—oh, sweetest dream,
Sink with me in the slumber of the grave!

Soliman.
They're both in such a state of ecstasy,
I cannot make them hear.

Jester.
Stay where you are,
I will approach them and perform your part.
My dignity will not be compromised,
If they shall turn as deaf an ear to me.
[Goes up to Aladdin and Gulnare, who are conversing in the background.
The Ruler of the Faithful, sweet young people,
Requests you will attend him to the palace,
Where, for this hour and more, in the great hall,
A most select assemblage waits your coming.

Aladdin.
The golden hour invites us, my sweet bride:
Bliss waves us onward: let us haste to meet it!

Jester
(pulls him back).
Here, my good friend, haste goes with measured step!
At court, sir, ceremonies govern all;
And pray you note, I'm master of them,—I;
An office which from immemorial time
Has with the Jester's piously been link'd.
First comes a lengthen'd train of negro slaves,
With sabres, and with halberds in their hands,
To keep aloof the mob of lookers-on.
Then follow the Vizirs and Privy Council.
These are not negro slaves, friend; they are white.
Next comes the Sultan 'neath a velvet pall,
Attended like a shadow by his fool,
And only then the princess and yourself
Appear upon a handsome dromedary.
(He arranges the procession, then makes a sign from the windows with his bauble and exclaims,)
Now blow, ye rascals, all your trumpets blow,
As fierce and loudly as your lungs can strain;
Let cannon thunder, bells by thousands ring,
And all the world in joyful chorus sing!

[They go off in procession.
AFRICA.
Noureddin
(seated at his table buried in thought. He lets the stylus drop from his hand into the box of sand, and sinks back exhausted).
Ha, Fate, why art thou hostile to me still?
My hand is weary with long toil; my eye
Is dim with staring into vacancy.
Where'er I draw my lines, all, all is blank,
And bare and barren as Saharah's sand.
To the mountain still they point near Ispahan:
There do they seek the lamp's small eye of flame.
But woe is me! all bootless is the search!
Without the lamp I stumble in the dark;
For what I seek is with the magic lamp
Link'd closely, wholly,—yea, inseparably.
This much, alas! I see,—too well, too well!
Oh execrable fate! Accursèd boy,
Long, long ere now thy wretched frame is dust,
And thy bleach'd bones lie freezing in the brook.
And can it really be, that mortal hands
Shall never more obtain the wondrous lamp?
Is there no measure, none, I still may try?
Or have I tried them all? Full well I know,
Open the cave again I never can,
And all that has relation to this cave—
As, for example, what befel the boy—
Is shrouded from mine eyes, that see all else.
It is not true. Thou liest, Noureddin! What
Prevents thee seeing further? Ha, 'tis this!
I would not even confess it to myself.
I shrank till now with shuddering from the sight;
For all too well I knew what I should see,—
The loathsome, livid body, half decay'd.
Now that is past! A whited skeleton,
What's horrible in that, or grim to view?
Down, weakness, down! Courage! I'll probe again.
That glorious cave, the seat of every joy,
Shall be no more to me a den of woe.
[He puncturates, and drops the stylus from his hand in affright.
Oh, Heavens! Allah! Mecca and Medina!
Happy! A prince! And on the eve of wedding
The Sultan's daughter! Master of the lamp!
Saved by the ring, which I—I, like a fool,
Placed on his finger! Fury, Death and Hell!
What devil robb'd me of my memory,
That I could thus so totally forget
My magic ring? Ha, malapert! and thou
Art reaping now the fruits of all my toil?
Plundering the tree I planted? I must know,
How all has come about,—I must, and shall.
Straight will I call the Water Spirit here,
The only spirit, from which my present powers
Can now constrain obedience to my will. (Makes signs.)

Thou Spirit of the Stream, appear, appear!
Answer thy master all that he demands.

The Water Spirit
(appears).
What would'st thou with me? Ho!
Be brief, and let me go!
I cannot keep my shape
For long, but must escape
On every side, and flow,
Now trickling fine and slow,
Now tumbling white in foam,
Where'er my fancies roam;
And ever must I range
In sunshine and in storm,
And pass from change to change,
And shift from form to form.

Noureddin.
Thou art a feeble spirit, but still a spirit;
And, as the denizen of yonder world,
Know'st more than he, whose summons brought thee here.
Say, then, who 'twas that drugg'd my memory?
How hath it chanced that I forgot my ring,
And by what spell have I been cheated thus?

Spirit.
The little golden snake,
That wears a diadem
Of precious stone and gem,
Blood-red and emerald bright,
And diamantine light;
The little golden snake
Doth at the water quake;
She is no water snake.

Noureddin.
She is no water snake?

Spirit.
It is for her too chill,
Where dreary billows scream;
She shuns the sphere of dream,
She loves the palpable.

Noureddin.
She loves the palpable?

Spirit.
Her home is fixed and still.
The vague desires, that rise
Before the schemer's eyes,
Are banished thence alway;
She bows to nature's sway.

Noureddin.
She bows to nature's sway?

Spirit.
In meads she loves to stray,
Where nobly fashion'd flowers
Bloom on through endless hours;
Where fresh buds still unfold,
And time is never old;
She bows to nature's sway.

Noureddin.
Own I not nature's sway?

Spirit.
Thou art to dreams a prey!
Her bounds they will not 'bide,
They reel from side to side;
Mere foam-flakes are they, chased
O'er ocean's formless waste.
The little golden snake
Doth at the water quake,
It is for her too chill;
She is no water snake,
She loves the palpable.

Noureddin.
Am I not palpable?

Spirit.
Thine is a rebel's will
Against creation's course!
Thou dost essay by force
Its limits to o'erleap,
And far beyond to sweep.
Thou dost not own the ring,
That girdles everything.
The little golden snake
Is nothing but the ring.

Noureddin.
At that I do not quake.
Success shall soon be mine;
Soon shall I find the lamp,
And brightly shall it shine.

Spirit.
It bears a life divine;
It burns not in the damp.

Noureddin.
And when I've won the lamp,
Mine too shall be the ring.

Spirit.
The ring shall hold the lamp,
But not the lamp the ring.

Noureddin.
My wish I'll soon command.

Spirit.
Yet both go hand in hand.
The lamp burns near the ring;
The ring shines near the lamp.

Noureddin.
To flout me is thy care;
And dark distrust to shed.

Spirit.
The temple's dome in air
Must meekly lift its head;
That on the altar fair,
The pure flame may be fed.

Noureddin.
Untruly hast thou spoken,
Thou silly vap'rous thing!

Spirit.
Thyself the ring hast broken;
Thou ne'er shalt find the ring.

Noureddin.
Ha! Babbling idly yet!

Spirit.
Thou wilt again forget!

[Vanishes.
Noureddin.
A philosophic spirit! Grant me patience!
The stupidest of dolts that lives on earth
Will mix you physics up with metaphysics,
Proprieties and ethics. What the plague,
Have ethics and proprieties to do
With magic? Pshaw! A moral necromancer!
The art, for which our ancestors subscribed
Allegiance to the fiend with their own blood,
Is to be practised now on moral rules?
Zounds! every day the world grows worse and worse.
I never could have fancied any spirit
Was such a fool, even though he were mere water.

Enter Hindbad.
Hindbad.
How, brother! what does all this fury mean?
You used to pore at night within your room,
As still as owls by daylight, where the wood
Is thickest. What has roused your anger thus?

Noureddin.
To-morrow I set out for Ispahan.
For know, my brother, that the wondrous lamp
Is in the power of that audacious boy,
Who, I believed, was dead.

Hindbad.
Good Heavens! The lamp?

Noureddin.
Thou art my brother; unto me thou owest
Whatever thou hast learned; more hadst thou learned,
Had zeal kept pace with thy ability.
To-morrow I set out, and hope the best;
But destiny is cross, and full of guile.
Then swear to me, and by the Prophet's tomb,
Thou wilt avenge me, like a faithful brother,
If I should fall a victim to my foe.

Hindbad.
I swear to thee as brother and as friend,
If thou shalt fall, no thirsty tongue did e'er
Long more for water in the wilderness,
Than Hindbad's dagger for thy murderer's blood.

Noureddin.
'Tis well! Then take this talisman. Thou see'st,
That now 'tis black; if it shall turn blood red,
It is a token of thy brother's death?

[Exit.
Hindbad.
And is the lamp, then, really on the earth,
And no mere figment of a beldame's tale?
Is this not one of your old lies, Noureddin,
To titillate your shallow vanity?
So, then, your crucibles, your fumes, and stenches,
Have borne some fruit at last! In sober sooth,
I fain would be the lord of such a lamp!
Nought could be handier to one, who loves,
Like me, to link his pleasures with his ease.
Then as I sat o' nights, and wished some girl
Within my arms, who had my fancy hit,
I rub my lamp—and there she lies like Eve,
And I, like Adam, straight in Paradise.
Then when I want to eat, no need have I
To plague myself about a stupid cook:
I send my spirits off to help themselves
To the choice viands of a Sultan's table,
Eat to my fill, and have the jest, besides,
Of thinking how his majesty is starving.
Water shall no man mingle in my wine.
I shall have every cellarer who does
Strangled at once; for to mix wine with water
Is a high crime, which merits instant death.
Such rascals as I relish not I'll have
Hang'd by my spirits on a gallows. Jests
In bushels shall my darling lamp supply!
To be a Sultan were an easy thing;
But I will not be one; I'd rather reign
Incognito, and at my own caprice.
All things which men call duties I detest!
It is not wickedness;—no, by my soul!
'Tis only love of ease, and that I take
Restraint upon my inclinations ill;
And that the world is a mad world, and he
The greatest madman who would govern it;
And he, that is the sagest, angles on
In troubled waters, till he bites the hook
Of death himself at last. This, in few words,
Is my religion and philosophy.
Well, go, Noureddin, I can scarcely blame you,
For seeking to dispose of that same boy.
I will direct my course by your example,
And in due season, on the self-same grounds,
Essay the same experiment with you.
For such a lamp is worth a little stroke
Of private murder, even between brothers.

[Exit.
Aladdin's Palace.
The Great Hall. Aladdin and his Bride, Soliman, Zulima, Morgiana, the Vizir, and numerous Guests seated at table.
Soliman.
Magnificence like this I ne'er beheld!
But say, my son, when everything beside
Is perfect, wherefore is the window there,
In yonder farther corner, incomplete?

Aladdin.
My lord and father, all my happiness
Is to your goodness due; and therefore I,
As a poor token of my gratitude,
Have left this single window incomplete,
That you might put the final hand yourself
To this fair structure: you alone might have
The praise and glory of the perfect work.

Soliman.
Charming! Aladdin, you enchant me! All
My artists shall be sent for with the dawn.

Aladdin.
Now, by your leave, let dance and song proceed,
To give a daintier relish to our feast!

Aladdin makes a signal, whereupon enter a band of fairies, some dressed for dancing, some with instruments; when the dance begins, sings the
Chorus.
Spring is come; swathed softly in its leafy sheath,
Slumbers the young bud; how red it swells beneath!
Tinkle, then, ye strings, like brook in forest glades,
Loud as birds in spring, sing, ye beauteous maids!
Every bosom now is glowing with love's fires,
Age itself anew is thrilled with fond desires!
All the earth doth wear a garniture divine;
Freely sprinkle, then, the golden-juicèd wine!
With its gladsome nectar, brimm'd in goblets full,
Love's consuming ardour moderate and cool!
Mahomet, he chides not; see, his smile divine,
Myrtle-wreathed, bids welcome maidens, love, and wine!

Second Chorus.
Let her praises loudly echo through the hall,
Who of fairest roses fairest is of all!

Third Chorus.
Sing Gulnara's charms, serene, and soft and bright:
We shall sing Aladdin's prowess in the fight!

First Chorus.
In her scarf hast thou been toying, zephyr, say?
Love's delicious perfume bring'st thou thence away?
Say, hast thou been sporting 'mongst her dusky hair,
That sweeps in crispèd waves adown her shoulders fair?
Hast thou in her bosom's mirror peep'd, and seen
There thyself reflected in its ivory sheen?
Hast thou drunk enchantment from the musky air,
Linger'd for a while among the hollows there?
Answer, zephyr, answer; haste not to be gone;
Tell me every beauty thou hast look'd upon!

Third Chorus.
Zephyr, hence!—go whispering on through woodland ways;
Here resounds the hero's trumpet-song of praise!
Though he ne'er hath pitch'd his tent on listed field,
Hear, oh world, the glory soon to be reveal'd!
Stars shall quail before the gleaming of his spear;
Even the sun shall fail before his falchion clear;
Hordes of slain his steed in war shall trample o'er,
Wading to the hoofs incarnadined with gore!
Every young maid's locks shall murmur, “Oh, to be
Manacles of gold to clasp and fetter thee!”
In his good sword, flashing from its sheath, shall gleam
Elements that war, but each of worth supreme;
Water when at peace within his arm it rests,
Fire, when it is whirling o'er his foemen's crests.
Loud its iron tongue shall in the battle hour
Peal the war-note shrill of its death-dealing power.
Joy! Thy glory puts the poet's skill to shame!
Thou shalt sweep the desert like a blasting flame;
Strong in righteous wrath, and ruddily array'd,
Death, unfailing death, cleaves to thy falchion's blade!

All.
See, where now with panting breast and kindling eye,
To the nuptial room, hand linked in hand, they hie!
Oh the blossoms love's sweet flame shall ripen there,
When to stem so stalwart nestles rose so fair!
On with song and dance, ye maidens, and unbind
The wreath of lilies woven, that in her hair is twined;
Crown her in their stead with hyacinths, to be
Emblems meet of Beauty, Strength, Fertility!