 | The Apostate ; or, Atlantis Destroyed |  |
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
An Apartment.Antonio.
(solo.)
The sin was Nature's when she made me thus:—
These limbs she moulded; link'd the vital chain
Of lively pulses circling through my heart;
Gave that love-darting lustre to my eyes
Which the fond fair so willingly obey;
And tun'd my voice to that persuasive mood,
Which wins so easily whate'er I ask:—
Can I then doubt the promptings of desire,
Come not as issue and effect from Nature,
And if they do so, wherein lies the ill?
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But instantly to feel its thrilling charm
Enticing to embrace. Good is but pleasure,
And that which pleases must be good to me;
If others find it harm, is the fault mine?
[Enter Arak.]
Arak, my friend, approach—Why stand you back?
Why look you on me with such awful dread?
What would you with me? Why these alter'd looks?
Arak.
The consecrated elders of our tribes,
Convened by old Orooko, send for you.
I am their messenger; say, will you come?
Ant.
But tell me first, why thus you are so sad—
My sin is but an error of my blood,
Call'd into action by the queen's alluring.
Arak.
The consecrated elders of our tribes,
Convened by old Orooko, send for you.
I am their messenger; say, will you come?
Ant.
Well, I will go: but Arak, do inform me—
[Exit Arak.
My friend! ha, gone! without a word, retir'd!—
Save but his solemn summons twice repeated.
O vain delusion! to persuade myself
That the delinquency of mine offence
Belong'd to Nature, or that others would
Ascribe my guilt to the primeval sin.
It is not what a man thinks of himself
That constitutes him bad or virtuous,
But as his actions touch the hearts of others.—
Yes, that same bounteous and divine endowment
Which fills the bosom with alert aversion
Against all odious and injurious things,
Excites the hate that guilty deeds inspire.—
The loathsome scorpion, whose envenom'd fang
Strikes cruel death, nor the remorseless vulture,
That plucks the eyeball of the hero dead;
O not the yellow and abhorred worm,
That riots on the breast where youthful love,
Once hop'd for bliss, is to the sense so hateful,
As I am now to the affrighten'd thoughts
Of this confiding, good, and gentle race.
[Exit.
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SCENE II.
A Vestibule.Yamos and Orooko.
Orooko.
It cannot be that this deceitful man
Derives his blood from our primeval sire:
He nor his nation, nor the God he worships,
Can have affinity with us or ours.
We, till his fatal tread deform'd our shore,
Did ever deem that chief most worthy honor,
Who least appear'd to need another's aid.
He would have taught you but for this blest crime,
I call it blest, since it dissolves the spell
Of his deceit—yes, had persuaded you
That they deserve the ritual of the knee,
Who are themselves of all mankind most helpless.
Before the round of many moons had wan'd,
We should have seen the ties reciprocal,
Of chief and follower slacken'd from all use,
And man to man in opposition set
Upon the plea of rank inherited.
Has he not told that in the eastern world,
The man most honor'd is the slave that tends
The largest count of slaves? Were not his arts
To quench the instinct which the mighty spirit
Bestow'd to guide us, giving the conceits
Of human frailty and invented reason
Hostile supremacy o'er nature's wisdom?—
Were such the customs, such the precepts ever
Of your great sires who never own'd a slave,
But conscious lords of all the breathing world,
Held each with each th'equality of kings.
Their only vassals were the prey that paid
A prompt obedience to the speedy shafts
Which levied their revenue—You attend not?
Yamos.
Be you, Orooko, judge, I am not fit:
The vengeful influence of his treachery
Distorts to me the rightful aim of justice.
Orooko.
No, Yamos, no; this solemn cause demands
That you should prove to the audacious stranger
Our old inborn superiority.
It must not seem that our selected chief
Should e'er in his great office stand perplex'd—
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Who shrinks at the affliction of a wound,
Rejected of our tribes, and not require
From you, our chief, that firm impartial mind
Which would adjudicate against itself?
Yamos.
Against itself!—You know me well, Orooko,
Nor have I swerv'd from my integrity;
But I do feel my spirit apt with ire,
To be vindictive by the sword of justice.
Orooko.
How! is thy nature then indeed so tainted,
That all its hate of the exotic crime
Is turn'd on him who had thy own permission?
Yamos.
Much I can bear, Orooko, from thy chiding,
But chafe me not too far—my rage is hungry,
And will have prey before it is appeas'd.
Orooko.
Do you refuse the duty we expect?
Yamos.
How now, old man, you frown rebelliously?
Orooko.
What if I, in the name of all the tribes,
Assert the privilege the elders ever
Have held in times of public jeopardy?
Yamos.
And what was that?
Orooko.
To change the ruling chief.
Yamos.
What have I done to cause me such dishonor?
Orooko.
You do refuse to execute your trust.
Yamos.
I would refuse it in this, my own cause,
But I do not refuse.
Orooko.
Then follow me
To where the assembled elders of the tribes
Have form'd the circle of avenging justice,
And wait but for your coming—This way, sir.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
An Apartment.Idda.
O what is this that weighs upon my heart
Like the oppression of a dead man's hand—
Methinks all nature is alarm'd around,
Rous'd by the omens of some dreadful change,
Whose coming horror far and black descried
No mortal can describe. I seem to stand
Like one deserted on the frozen sea,
While o'er the waves, beyond the stretching ice,
Dark as mid night, a brooding tempest glooms—
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The bold seal-hunters hurrying without prey,
Look wildly wond'ring at the fated wretch,
And sullenly speed home—Loud under foot,
Th'imprison'd ocean raging to be free,
Tears with the earthquake's strength.—What is my doom?
[Enter Mora.]
What will they do with me—what is decreed?
Mora.
There is a rock, two bow-shots from the shore,
Whose tangled head, till half the tide is run,
Lies hid beneath the waves.
Idda.
Well, Mora, well.
Mora.
What time to-night the evening star shall rise
Above the mountains, that mysterious rock
Will from his forehead lift the watry veil.
Idda.
O Mora, be not so oracular,
But tell me quickly all. What horror waits
On the appearing of that dismal sign?
Mora.
I can but only echo what I heard.
Idda.
Proceed, proceed, there's boding in thy voice;
And the sad portent of these solemn eyes,
Alarms me more than were the sun eclips'd,
And the bright stars that gem the winter's night,
Seen through the myst'ry of the summer's noon.—
When the black forehead of the rock appears,
What hideous work begins?
Mora.
In silence then,
Two sable boats shall slowly quit the shore—
Idda.
Bearing me and Antonio? No? What then?
Mora.
In one shall sit the dumb dejected man,
Who knows all things that other mortals know,
But wants the organs to embody speech—
And he shall bear in his right hand—
Idda.
O heavens!
Mora.
A funeral torch, to kindle on the rock
The signal fire of death.
Idda.
The other boat?
Mora.
Shall follow freighted with a sentenc'd victim.
Idda.
Which?
Mora.
You.
Idda.
Alone?
Mora.
Alone.
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Tell me what then?
Mora.
The boats will leave you on the rock to perish,
With no companion but the deadman's fire,
By which, when the refluent tide has quench'd it,
Th'assembled tribes, collected on the shore,
May know your life was with the flame extinguish'd.
Idda.
My throat is parching and my breath becomes
Like suffocating ashes—air! air! air!
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A Wood: the town seen beyond. The Elders of the tribes assembled in a semi-circle on the ground.Orooko, Yamos, Antonio, &c.
Orooko.
This warmth is counterfeit, notions so fanciful,
Spring not in Nature from th'impassion'd heart—
They are but fire-flies, startled from their resting,
And not the inborn blossoms of the bough—
Answer expressly to the charge we make?
Antonio.
How may I to your stern demand reply?
I own the guilt! I ask the punishment!
If aught the tortures of your fiercest fires
Can add of anguish to the thoughts I suffer.
But Oh, forbear to blame the truth I taught,
Nor think the sin of my ill-destin'd frame
Can taint the bright intelligence of Heaven,
To which I am but as some hateful reptile,
Whose slimy back reflects the glorious sun.
O royal Yamos, noblest injured man,
I seek no mercy for my odious self,
Though thy blest nature, form'd for higher good
Than the heroic spirit e'er inspir'd,
Would e'en to me, whose devil-serving passions
Have made such wreck of all thy soul held dearest,
Find naught so easy as to grant me pardon,
Let not the thought, that my detested crime
Is ever sequence to the taste of truth,
Enter the temple of thy blameless heart;
But onward bravely in thy great career,
And be to all succeeding ages known,
As he who first amidst the Atlantine wilds,
The altars of eternal knowledge raised.
Yamos.
But what will that avail?
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(aside)
Ha! does he doubt?
Yamos.
Turn not away, I speak not to reproach—
Unhappy man, I ask thee but to tell
How will the praises of the far-unborn
Repay the sacrifice that must be made,
Before the fruitage ripen into use?
O yes, Antonio, once I thought like thee,
That to be class'd with those immortal kings,
Whom all the sages of thy eastern world
Deem wisdom best devoted in revering,
Were a triumphant recompense for braving
My fathers' ghosts, whose unembodied voices
Spoke sternly to my thoughts. Alas, when oft
Amidst the falling trees we fell'd to raise
Yon guilty roofs, I heard them sigh around,
My fearful heart had foretaste of its woe,
And felt, it knew not why, th'alarm of guilt;
But still the flatt'ring pageant of renown
Rose bright in view, and my enchanted mind
Beheld as 'twere an image of myself,
High rais'd refulgent, while in spreading circles
Appear'd the millions of succeeding times,
Filling the vast horizon to its bound,
And shouting loud my name. The dream is past!
And yet methinks I am not well awake.
The hideous nightmare sits upon my breast,
And while I see around these towers and domes,
I strangely hope my sense is but abus'd
By some delusion of unwholesome sleep.
Idda, my love! art thou not at my side?
Where art thou, Idda?—O where is my love!
Orooko.
Yamos, Yamos, what madness fires thy mind,
That thus in the great synod of the Elders
Thou darest this breach of all solemnity?
Yamos.
See'st thou that pallid wretch, whose evil eyes
Have glanc'd eternal blight on all my hopes?
Orooko.
Come to thy seat again, and give the sentence.
Yamos.
But will the word of power, that dooms to death,
Restore my bosom to its wonted calm?
Orooko.
This wildness must not further be endured.—
Never before did warrior of our tribe
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With such a rapture of entranced passion.
Yamos.
Never before were any of our tribe
Pain'd with the anguish of a grief like mine.
Orooko.
(to the Elders)
Ye, who have felt in youth's imperious prime,
The goading insult of a foeman's frown,
Rouse your bold spirits into leaping rage,
That would not be restrain'd; blame not in him
These transports at irreparable wrong,
But pardon his irreverence—take your place—
Come, noble Yamos, look, the Elders wait.
Yamos.
What would they more?—Antonio has confess'd,
And Idda ye have doom'd—O why should I
Be further tortured in this dire probation?
Orooko.
Say but the sentence, and it will be finish'd.
Yamos.
Then let him live.
Orooko.
How live?
Yamos.
Aye, and may Heaven
Punish his crimes with constancy of health,
Prolong'd beyond the utmost term that love,
E'er in the hour of rapture wish'd to live.
For he is noble, and the sense of guilt,
With keener agony than tonguing flames
Lick to the bone, will be his punishment.
Orooko.
Shall he live also free?
Yamos.
Yes, free and public.—
Beware that none of the accustom'd homage
Towards him be withheld—else might the thought,
The angry thought that springs from punishment,
Defeat th'intended horror of our sentence.—
Antonio, friend! why dost thou hang thy head,
And clasp thy hands distracted in the air?
Once thou didst tell me of some secret law,
By which the evil germ in different breasts,
Holds mystic sympathy, and to ill deeds
E'en passing strangers suddenly constrains—
This truth of all you taught, I find first true,
The devilish charm of your perfidious guilt
Stirs in the latent vices of my blood,
And makes me cunning that I may be cruel.
[Exeunt.
| The Apostate ; or, Atlantis Destroyed | |