prophet, Will, with impunity, let pass that breach Of sacred faith given to the royal Greek?

Baj. Thou pedant talker! ha! art thou a king, Possest of sacred power, Heaven's darling attribute,

And dost thou prate of leagues, and oaths, and prophets !

I hate the Greek (perdition on his name!)
As I do thee, and would have met you both,
As death does human nature, for destruction.

Tam. Causeless to hate, is not of human kind: | The savage brute, that haunts in woods remote And desart wilds, tears not the fearful traveller, If hunger, or some injury, provoke not.

Baj. Can a king want a cause, when empire
bids

Go on? What is he born for, but ambition?
It is his hunger, 'tis his call of nature,
The noble appetite which will be satisfied,
And, like the food of gods, makes him immortal.
Tam. Henceforth I will not wonder we were
foes,

Since souls, that differ so, by nature hate,
And strong antipathy forbids their union.

Baj. The noble fire, that warms me, does indeed

Transcend thy coldness. I am pleased we differ, Nor think alike.

Tam. No-for I think like man;

Thou, like a monster, from whose baneful pre

sence

Nature starts back; and though she fixed her stamp

On thy rough mass, and marked thee for man, Now, conscious of her error, she disclaims thee, As formed for her destruction.—

'Tis true, I am a king, as thou hast been: Honour and glory, too, have been my aim; But, though I dare face death, and all the dan

gers

Which furious war wears in its bloody front,
Yet would I chuse to fix my name by peace,
By justice, and by mercy, and to raise
My trophies on the blessings of mankind;
Nor would I buy the empire of the world
With ruin of the people whom I sway,
Or forfeit of my honour.

Baj. Prophet, I thank thee.—
Damnation!-Couldst thou rob me of my glory,
To dress up this tame king, this preaching der-
vise?

Unfit for war, thou shouldst have lived secure
In lazy peace, and, with debating senates,
Shared a precarious sceptre, sat tamely still,
And let bold factions canton out thy power,
And wrangle for the spoils they robbed thee of;
Whilst I (curse on the power that stops my ar-
dour!)

Would, like a tempest, rush amidst the nations,
Be greatly terrible, and deal, like Alla,

Tam. The world!-'twould be too little for thy

pride:

Thou wouldst scale heaven-—

Baj. I would:-Away! my soul Disdains thy conference.

Tam. Thou vain, rash thing,

That, with gigantic insolence, hast dared
To lift thy wretched self above the stars,
And mate with power Almighty-thou art fallen!
Baj. 'Tis false! I am not fallen from aught I
have been;

At least my soul resolves to keep her state,
And scorns to take acquaintance with ill-fortune.
Tam. Almost beneath my pity art thou fallen;
Since, while the avenging hand of Heaven is on

thee,

And presses to the dust thy swelling soul,
Fool-hardy, with the stronger thou contendest.
To what vast heights had thy tumultuous temper
Been hurried, if success had crowned thy wishes!
Say, what had I to expect, if thou hadst con-
quered?

Baj. Oh, glorious thought! By Heaven I will
enjoy it,

Though but in fancy; imagination shall
Make room to entertain the vast idea.
Oh! had I been the master but of yesterday,
The world, the world had felt me; and for thee,
I had used thee, as thou art to me-a dog,
The object of my scorn and mortal hatred :
I would have taught thy neck to know my weight,
And mounted from that footstool to my saddle:
Then, when thy daily servile task was done,
I would have caged thee, for the scorn of slaves,
Till thou hadst begged to die; and even that
mercy

I had denied thee. Now thou know'st my mind,
And question me no farther.

Tam. Well dost thou teach me, What justice should exact from thee. Mankind, With one consent, cry out for vengeance on thee; Loudly they call, to cut off this league-breaker, This wild destroyer, from the face of earth.

Baj. Do it, and rid thy shaking soul at once Of its worst fear.

Tum. Why slept the thunder, That should have armed the idol deity, And given thee power, ere yester sun was set, To shake the soul of Tamerlane? Hadst thou an

Dependent on my gift-Yes, Bajazet,
I bid thee-live! So much my soul disdains
That thou shouldst think I can fear aught but
Heaven:

Nay, more; couldst thou forget thy brutal fierce

ness,

And form thyself to manhood, I would bid thee
Live, and be still a king, that thou mayest learn
What man should be to man, in war remembering
The common tie and brotherhood of kind.
This royal tent, with such of thy domestics
As can be found, shall wait upon thy service;
Nor will I use my fortune to demand
Hard terms of peace, but such as thou mayst offer
With honour, I with honour may receive.

[Tamerlane signs to an Officer, who un-
binds Bajazet.

Baj. Ha! sayst thou-no-our prophet's vengeance blast me,

If thou shalt buy my friendship with thy empire.
Damnation on thee, thou smooth fawning talker!
Give me again my chains, that I may curse thee,
And gratify my rage: or, if thou wilt
Be a vain fool, and play with thy perdition,
Remember I'm thy foe, and hate thee deadly.
Thy folly on thy head!

Tum. Be still my foe.

Great minds, like Heaven, are pleased in doing good,

Though the ungrateful subjects of their favours
Are barren in return: thy stubborn pride,
That spurns the gentle office of humanity,
Shall in my honour own, and thy despite,
I have done as I ought. Virtue still does
With scorn the mercenary world regard,
Where abject souls do good, and hope reward:
Above the worthless trophies men can raise,
She seeks not honours, wealth, nor airy praise,
But with herself, herself the goddess pays.

[Exeunt Tamerlane, Axalla, Prince of Tanais, Mirvan, Zama, and Attendants. Baj. Come, lead me to my dungeon! plunge me down,

Deep from the hated sight of man and day,
Where, under covert of the friendly darkness,
My soul may brood, at leisure, o'er its anguish!
Om. Our royal master would, with noble usage,
Make your misfortunes light: he bids you hope-
Baj. I tell thee, slave, I have shook hands
with hope,

And all my thoughts are rage, despair, and horror!
Ha! wherefore am I thus?-Perdition seize me!
But my cold blood runs shivering to my heart,
As at some phantom, that in dead of night,
With dreadful action, stalks around our beds.
The rage and fiercer passions of my breast
Are lost in new confusion.-

And all the heroes of thy sacred race,
Are sad in paradise, thy faithful Haly,
The slave of all thy pleasures, in this ruin,
This universal shipwreck of thy fortunes,
Enter ARPASIA.

Has gathered up this treasure for thy arms:
Nor even the victor, haughty Tamerlane
(By whose command once more thy slave beholds
thee),

Denies this blessing to thee, but, with honour, Renders thee back thy queen, thy beauteous bride. Baj Oh! had her eyes, with pity, seen my sor

That Heaven has any joy in store for thee?
Look back upon the sum of thy past life,
Where tyranny, oppression, and injustice,
Perjury, murders, swell the black account;
Where lost Arpasia's wrongs stand bleeding fresh,
Thy last recorded crime. But Heaven has found
thee;

At length the tardy vengeance has o'erta'en thee.
My weary soul shall bear a little longer
The pain of life, to call for justice on thee:
That once complete, sink to the peaceful grave,
And lose the memory of my wrongs and thee.

Baj. Thou railest! I thank thee for it-Be

Before the fortune of victorious Tamerlane,

Betrayed her to the Tartar; or, even worse,
Pale with thy fear, didst lose her like a coward;
And, like a coward now, would cast the blame
On fortune and ill stars.

Mon. Ha! saidst thou like a coward?
What sanctity, what majesty divine
Hast thou put on, to guard thee from my rage,
That thus thou darest to wrong me?

Baj. Out, thou slave,
And know me for thy lord-

Mon. I tell thee, tyrant,

When in the pride of power thou sat'st on high,
When like an idol thou wert vainly worshipped,
By prostrate wretches, born with slavish souls:
Even when thou wert a king, thou wert no more,
Nor greater than Moneses; born of a race
Royal, and great as thine. What art thou now,
then?

The fate of war has set thee with the lowest;
And captives (like the subjects of the grave),
Losing distinction, serve one common lord.

Baj. Braved by this dog! Now give a loose to
rage,

And curse thyself! curse thy false cheating prophet!

Ha! yet there is some revenge. Hear me, thou
Christian!

Thou leftst that sister with me: Thou impostor!
Thou boaster of thy honesty! Thou liar!
But take her to thee back.

Now to explore my prison-if it holds
Another plague like this, the restless damned
(If muftis lie not) wander thus in hell;
From scorching flames to chilling frosts they run,
Then from their frosts to fires return again,
And only prove variety of pain.

[Exeunt Bajazet and Haly. Arp. Stay, Bajazet, I charge thee by my wrongs!

Stay and unfold a tale of so much horror
As only fits thy telling. Oh, Moneses!
Mon. Why dost thou weep? Why this tem-
pestuous passion,

That stops thy faultering tongue short on my name?

Oh, speak! unveil this mystery of sorrow,
And draw the dismal scene at once to sight!
Arp. Thou art undone, lost, ruined, and un-
done!

Mon. I will not think it is so, while I have thee; While thus it is given to hold thee in my arms;

For while I sigh upon thy panting bosom,
The sad remembrance of past woes is lost.
Arp. Forbear to sooth thy soul with flattering
thoughts,

Of evils overpast, and joys to come :
Our woes are like the genuine shade beneath,
Where fate cuts off the very hopes of day,
And everlasting night and horror reign.

Mon. By all the tenderness and chaste endear

ments

Of our past love, I charge thee, my Arpasia, To case my soul of doubts! Give me to know, At once, the utmost malice of my fate!

Arp. Take then thy wretched share in all I suffer,

Still partn. r of my heart! Scarce hadst thou left
The sultan's camp, when the imperious tyrant,
Softening the pride and fierceness of his temper,
With gentle speech, made offer of his love.
Amazed, as at the thought of sudden death,
I started into tears, and often urged
(Though still in vain) the difference of our faiths.
At last, as flying to the utmost refuge,
With lifted hands and streaming eyes, I owned
The fraud; which when we first were made his
prisoners,

Conscious of my unhappy form, and fearing
For thy dear life, I forced thee to put on
Thy borrowed name of brother, mine of sister;
Hiding beneath that veil the nearer tie
Our mutual vows had made before the priest.
Kindling to rage at hearing of my story,

6

Then, be it so,' he cried: Thinkest thou thy

Vows,

Given to a slave, shall bar me from thy beauties? Then bade the priest pronounce the marriagerites,

Which he performed; whilst, shrieking with des

pair,

I called, in vain, the powers of Heaven to aid me.
Mon. Villain! Imperial villain! Oh, the coward!
Awed by his guilt, though backed by force and
power,

He durst not, to my face, avow his purpose;
But, in my absence, like a lurking thief,
Stole on my treasure, and at once undid me.

Arp. Had they not kept me from the means
of death,

Forgetting all the rules of Christian suffering,
I had done a desperate murder on my soul,
Ere the rude slaves, that waited on his will,
Had forced me to his-

Mon. Stop thee there, Arpasia,
And bar my fancy from the guilty scene!
Let not thought enter, lest the busy mind
Should muster such a train of monstrous images,
As would distract me. Oh! I cannot bear it.
Thou lovely hoard of sweets, where all my joys
Were treasured up, to have thee rifled thus!
Thus torn untasted from my eager wishes!
But I will have thee from him. Tamerlane
(The sovereign judge of equity on earth)

Shall do me justice on this mighty robber, And render back thy beauties to Moneses.

Those distant beauties of the future state. Tell me, Arpasia-say, what joys are those

honour,

Oh! tell me, and sustain my failing faith.
Arp. Imagine somewhat exquisitely fine,
Which fancy cannot paint, which the pleased
mind

Can barely know, unable to describe it;
Imagine it is a tract of endless joys,
Without satiety or interruption;

Imagine it is to meet, and part no more.

Mon. Grant, gentle Heaven, that such may be our lot!

Let us be blest together. Oh, my soul!
Build on that hope, and let it arm thy courage,

mine,

Thy soul is mine.

Arp. O! think not, that the power
Of most persuasive eloquence can make me
Forget I have been another's, been his wife.
Now, by my blushes, by the strong confusion
And anguish of my heart, spare me, Moneses,
Nor urge my trembling virtue to the precipice.
Shortly, oh! very shortly, if my sorrows
Divine aright, and Heaven be gracious to me,
Death shall dissolve the fatal obligation,
And give me up to peace, to that blest place,
Where the good rest from care and anxious life.
Mon. Oh, teach me, thou fair saint, like thee
to suffer!

Teach me, with hardy piety, to combat
The present ills: instruct my eyes to pass
The narrow bounds of life, this land of sorrow,
And, with bold hopes, to view the realms beyond,

SCENE I.-The inside of the Royal Tent. Enter AXALLA, SELIMA, and Women Attendants. Ar. Can there be aught in love beyond this proof,

my faith?

This wondrous proof, I give thee of
To tear thee from my bleeding bosom thus !
To rend the strings of life, to set thee free,
And yield thee to a cruel father's power!
Foe to my hopes! What canst thou pay me
back,

What but thyself, thou angel! for this fondness?
Sel. Thou dost upbraid me, beggar as I am,
And urge me with my poverty of love.
Perhaps thou think'st, 'tis nothing for a maid
To struggle through the niceness of her sex,
The blushes and the fears, and own she loves.
Thou think'st 'tis nothing for my artless heart
To own my weakness, and confess thy triumph.
Ar. Oh! yes I own it; my charmed ears ne'er
knew

A sound of so much rapture, so much joy.

[Exeunt Moneses and Arpasia, severally.

Not voices, instruments, not warbling birds,
Not winds, not murmuring waters joined in con-
cert,

Not tuneful nature, not the according spheres,
Utter such harmony, as when my Selima,
With down-cast looks and blushes, said-{
love.

Sel. And yet thou say'st, I am a niggard to thee!

I swear the balance shall be held between us,
And love be judge, if, after all the tenderness,
Tears and confusion of my virgin soul,
Thou shouldst complain of aught, unjust Axalla!
Ar. Why was I ever blest-Why is remem-

brance

Rich with a thousand pleasing images

Of past enjoyments, since 'tis but plague to me?
When thou art mine no more, what will it ease me
To think of all the golden minutes past,
To think that thou wert kind, and I was happy?
But like an angel fallen from bliss, to curse
My present state, and mourn the heaven I've lost.