Point me to right! I'll onward to its goal
With double energy, will expiate all,
That, in the days of ignorance, might offend;
Only restore my children to my care,
Give to my craving arms my hapless children,
That I may form them, turn them back from wrong,

SCENE I-MAHOMET's apartment.

MAHOMET alone.

Mah. Ambition knows not conscience

Well, this Zaphna

Is fixed at length-I lessoned him so home,
Dealt to his young enthusiastic soul
Such promises and threats-

Enter MIRVAN.

Mirvan, what news?

Weed their young minds from those pernicious

errors

The arch-impostor has implanted in them,
Train them in virtue's school, and lead them on
To deeds of glorious and immortal honour.

Mir. Oh, Mahomet, I fear the nice woven web Of our design's unravelled. Ere thy spirit Had re-inflamed young Zaphna with the thirst Of old Alcanor's blood, he had revealed The dreadful purpose to Hercides—

Mah. Ha!

[Erit.

He's not her father, as she knows it not.
Trust me, those partial ties of blood and kindred
Are but the illusive taints of education :
What we call nature is mere habit, Mirvan;
That habit's on our side; for the whole study
Of this young creature's life has been obedience,
To think, believe, and act as pleasured me.
But hold; the hour, on which our fortune hangs,
Is now at hand. While Zaphna seeks the temple,
Let us look round us, see that not a wheel
Lag in the vast machine we have at work :
It is success, that consecrates our actions;
The vanquished rebel as a rebel dies,
The victor rebel plumes him on a throne.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The temple.

still

Has held him as a father.

Mah. That I like not.

What does Hercides say? thinks he with us? Mir. Oh no; he trembles at the very thought Of this dread scene, compassionates Alcanor, And

Mah. He's but a half friend then, and a half friend

Is not a span from traitor. Mirvan, Mirvan,
A dangerous witness must be some way dealt

with: Am I obeyed?

Mir. Tis done.

Mah. Then for the rest

Or e'er the harbinger of morrow's dawn
Gleam in the east, Alcanor, thou must set,
Or Mahomet and all his hopes must perish:
That's the first step; then, Zaphna, next for thee!
Soon as thy hands have dealt the midnight mis-
chief,

In thy own blood the secret must be drowned.
Thus quit of son and father (those curst rivals,
Who elbow me at once in love and grandeur)
Both Mecca and Palmira shall be mine.
Oh towering prospect! how it fills the eye
Of my aspiring and enamoured soul !
Night! put on double sable, that no star
May be a spy on those dark deeds-Well,
Mirvan,

Shall we accomplish this?

Mir. We shall, my chief.

Mah. What though I seize his life, from whom she sprung?

What horrid sacrifice is this enjoined thee?
What victim does the god of Mahomet
Claim from thy tender hand?

Zaph. Oh, my guardian angel,
Speak, resolve me;

How can assassination be a virtue?
How can the gracious parent of mankind
Delight in mankind's sufferings? May not this
prophet,

This great announcer of his heavenly will,
Mistake it once?

Pal. Oh, tremble to examine.

He sees our hearts-To doubt is to blaspheme. Zuph. Be steady, then, my soul, firm to thy

purpose,

And let religion steel thee against pity.

Come forth, thou foe to Mahomet, and Heaven, And meet the doom thy rebel faith deserves! Come forth, Alcanor!

Pal. Who, Alcanor!
Zaph. Yes.

Pal. The good Alcanor?

Zaph. Why do you call him good?

Curse on his pagan virtues! he must die;
So Mahomet commands: and yet methinks
Some other deity arrests my arm,

And whispers to my heart-Zaphna, forbear!
Pal. Distracting state!

Zaph. Alas! my dear Palmira,

I'm weak, and shudder at this bloody business. Help me, oh help, Palinira! I am torn,

Distracted with this conflict.

Zeal, horror, love, and pity, seize my breast,
And drag it different ways. Alas! Palmira,
You see me tossing on a sea of passions;
Tis thine, my angel, to appease this tempest,
Fix my distracted will, and teach me-
Pal. What!

What can I teach thee in this strife of passions?
Oh Zaphna! I revere our holy prophet,
Think all his laws are registered in heaven,
And every mandate minted in the skies.

Zaph. But then, to break through hospitality, And murder him, by whom we are protected! Pal. Oh, poor Alcanor! generous, good Alcanor!

My heart bleeds for thee.

Zaph. Know then, unless I act this horrid scene, Unless I plunge this dagger in the breast Of that old man, I must-I must

Pal. What

Zaph. Must, Palmira

(Oh agonizing thought!) lose thee for ever.

Pal. Am I the price of good Alcanor's blood? Zaph. So Mahomet ordains.

Pul. Horrible dowry!

And I'll fulfil its laws. This is the hour,
In which he pays, at the adjoining altar,
Black rites to his imaginary gods.
Follow me not, Palmira.

Pal. I must follow;

I will not, dare not, leave thee.
Zaph. Gentle maid,

I beg thee fly these walls; thou canst not bear This horrid scene-Oh, these are dreadful moments!

Begone-quick-this way

Pal. No, I follow thee,

Retread thy every footstep, though they lead
To the dark gulph of death.

Zuph. Thou matchless maid!-to the dire
trial then.

[Exeunt. SCENE draws, and discovers the inner part of the temple, with a pagan altar and images; ALCANOR addressing himself to the idols.

Alc. Eternal Powers! that deign to bless these mansions,

Protectors of the sons of Ishmael,

Crush, crush this blasphemous invader's force, And turn him back with shame! If power be your's,

Oh! shield your injured votaries, and lay
Oppression, bleeding at your altar's foot.

Enter ZAPHNA and PALMIRA.

Pal. entering.] Act not this bloody deed! oh save him, save him!

Zaph. Save him, and lose both paradise and thee!

Pal. Hah, yon' he stands-Oh! Zaphna, all my blood is frozen at the sight! Alc. 'Tis in your own behalf that I implore The terrors of your might; swift, swiftly Pour vengeance on this vile apostate's head, Who dares profanely wrest your thunder from

you,

And lodge it with an unknown fancied god.
Zaph. Hear how the wretch blasphemes! So,

now

Pal. Hold, Zaphna!
Zaph. Let me go-

Pal. I cannot-cannot.

Alc. But if, for reasons which dim-sighted mor

tals

Can't look into, you'll crown this daring rebel
With royalty and priesthood, take my life!
And if, ye gracious Powers! you have aught of
bliss

In store for me, at my last hour permit me
To see my children, pour my blessing on them,
Expire in their dear arms, and let them close
These eyes, which then would wish no after-
sight!

Pal. His children, did he say?
Zaph. I think he did-

3 X

Alc. For this I'll at your altar pay my vows, And make it smoke with incense. [Retires behind the altar.

Zaph. Now's the time; [Drawing his sword. Insulting Heaven, he flies to stones for refuge: Now let me strike!

Pal. Stay but one moment, Zaphna.
Zaph. It must not be-unhand me.
Pal. What to do?

Zaph. To serve my God and king, and merit thee.

[Breaking from Palmira. and going towards the altar, he starts, and stops short. Ha! what are ye, ye terrifying shades? What means this lake of blood, that lies before me?

Pal. Oh Zaphna! let us fly these horrid roofs. Zaph. No, no- -Go on, ye ministers of death; Lead me the way: I'll follow ye.

Pal. Stay, Zaphna!

Heap no more horrors on me; I'm expiring
Beneath the load.

Zaph. Be hushed-the altar trembles !
What means that omen! does it spur to murder,
Or would it rein me back? No, 'tis the voice
Of Heaven itself, that chides my lingering hand.
Now send up thither all thy vows, Palmira,
Whilst I obey its will and give the stroke.

[Goes out behind the altar after Alcanor. Pal. What vows? Will Heaven receive a murderer's vows!

For sure I'm such, whilst I prevent not murder. Why beats my heart thus? what soft voice is this,

That's waken'd in my soul, and preaches mercy?
If Heaven demands his life, dare I oppose?
Is it my place to judge?-Ha! that dire groan
Proclaims the bloody business is about.
Zaphna! oh Zaphna !

Re-enter ZAPHNA.

Zaph. Ha! where am I?

Who calls me? where's Palmira? she's not here: What fiend has snatched her from me?

Pal. Heavens ! he raves!

Dost thou not know me, Zaphna! her, who lives For thee alone!-Why dost thou gaze thus on me? Zaph. Where are we?

Pal. Hast thou then discharged

The horrid duty?

Zaph. What dost thou say?

Pal. Alcanor———

Zaph. Alcanor! what Alcanor?

Pal. Gracious Heaven,

Look down upon him!

Let's be gone, my Zaphna!

Let's fly this place!

Zaph. Oh, whither fly! to whom?

D'ye see these hands? who will receive these

hands?

Pal. Oh, come, and let me wash them with my tears!

The fell, fell dagger in his bosom, viewed
His dying face, where sat such dignity,
Clothed with compassion towards his base as-
sassin !

[Throwing himself on the ground. The dire remembrance weighs me to the earthHere let me die

Pal. Rise, my loved Zaphna! rise,
And let us fly to Mahomet for protection:
If we are found in these abodes of slaughter,
Tortures and death attend us: let us fly!

Zaph. starting up.] I did fly at that blasting sight, Palmira,

When drawing out the fatal steel he cast
Such tender looks! I fled--the fatal steel,
The voice, the tender looks, the bleeding victim
Blessing his murderer, I could not fly:
No, they clung to me, rived my throbbing heart,
And set my brain on fire. What have we done!
Pal. Hark! what's that noise! I tremble for
thy life.

Oh! in the name of love, by all the ties,
Those sacred ties, that bind thee mine for ever,
I do conjure thee, follow me!

[ALCANOR comes from behind the altar,
leaning against it, with the bloody
sword in his hand.

Zaph. Ha! look, Palmira, see what object's that, Which bears upon my tortured sight! Is't he? Or is't his bloody manes come to haunt us?

Pal. 'Tis he himself, poor wretch! struggling with death,

And feebly crawling towards us. Let me fly,
And yield what help I can: let me support thee,
Thou much-lamented, injured, good old man!
Zaph. Why don't I move? my feet are rooted
here,

And all my frame is struck and withered up
As with a lightning's blast.

Alc. My gentle maid,
Wilt thou support me?
Weep not, my Palmira.

Pal. I could weep tears of blood, if that would serve thee.

SCENE I.

Enter MAHOMET and MIRVAN.

with blood!

Mah. What a senseless machine
Can superstition make the reasoner man!
Alcanor lies there on his bed of earth?

Mir. This moment he expired, and Mecca's youth

In vain lament their chief. To the mad crowd That gathered round, good Ali and myself (Full of thy dauntless heavenly-seeming spirit) Disclaimed the deed, and pointed out the arm Of righteous Heaven, that strikes for Mahomet. Think ye, we cried (with eyes and hands upreared),

Think ye our holy prophet would consent

To such a crime, whose foulness casts a blot
On right of nations, nature, and our faith?
Oh, rather think he will revenge his death,
And root his murder from the burdened earth!
Then struck our breasts, and wept the good old

man,

And only wished he'd died among the faithful, And slept with Ibrahim.

Mah. Excellent Mirvan!

Mir, We, then, both at large Descanted on thy clemency and bounty. On that the silent and desponding crowd Broly out in murmurs, plaints, and last in shouts, And cach mechanic grew a mussulman.

Mah. Oh, worthy to deceive and awe the
world,

Second to Mahomet! let me embrace thee-
But say, is not our army at their gates

To back our clemency?

Mir. Omar commands

Their nightly march through unsuspected paths, And with the morn appears.

Mah. At sight of them,

The weak remaining billows of this storm
Will lash themselves to peace-But where is
Zaphna?

Mah. I would be kind, and let him die deccived,

Nor know that parent-blood defiles his soul.
Mir. He cannot know it: if the grave be silent,
I'm sure Hercides is-

Mah. Unhappy Zaphna!

Something like pity checks me for thy death.
But why-I must not think that way-shall
Mahomet

Give a new paradise to all mankind,

And let remorse of conscience be the hell
Of his own breast! My safety claimed his life,
And all the heaven of fair Palmira's charms
Shall be my great reward.

Mir. My noble lord,

Palmira is at hand, and waits your pleasure. Mah. At hand! How, Mirvan, couldst thou let me talk

On themes of guilt, when that pure angel's near? Mir. The weeping fair, led on by flattering

hope

Of Zaphna's life, attends your sacred will:
A silent pale dejection shrouds her cheeks,
And, like the lily in a morning shower,
She droops her head and locks up all her sweets.
Mah. Say Mahomet awaits, and then
Assemble all our chiefs, and on this platform
Let them attend me straight. [Exit Mirvan.

Enter PALMIRA with attendants.

Pal. apart.] Where have they led me? Methinks each step I take, the mangled corse Of my dear father (by poor Zaphna mangled) Lies in my way, and all I see is blood-[Starting. 'Tis the impostor's self!-Burst, heart, in silence. Mah. Maid, lay aside this dread. Palmira's fate

And that of Mecca by my will is fixed.
This great event, that fills thy soul with horror,
Is mystery to all but Heaven and Mahomet.

Pal. Oh, ever righteous Heaven! canst thou

suffer