| Pardon the pride, with which I own my joy,
Thus wholly to possess the man I love!
To know, and to confess his will my fate'
To be the happy work of his dear hands!
Absent two whole long days, the slow-pac'd hour
At last is come, and gives him to my wishes.
[A grand march.
Enter OSMAN, reading a paper, which he re-de-To be-
livers to ORASMIN; with Attendants.
Osm. Wait my return-or, should there be a
That may require my presence, do not fear
To enter; ever mindful, that my own
[Exit ORAS, &c.
Follows my people's happiness.-At length,
Cares have releas'd my heart-to love and Zara.
Zar. 'Twas not in cruel absence to deprive me
Of your imperial image-every where
You reign triumphant: memory supplies
Reflection with your power; and you, like Heaven,
Are always present-and are always gracious.
Osm. The sultans, my great ancestors, bequeath'd
Their empire to me, but their taste they gave not;
Their laws, their lives, their loves, delight not me:
I know, our prophet smiles on am'rous wishes,
And opens a wide field to vast desire;
I know, that at my will I might possess;
That, wasting tenderness in wild profusion,
I might look down to my surrounded feet,
And bless contending beauties. I might speak,
Serenely slothful, from within my palace,
And bid my pleasure be my people's law.
But sweet as softness is, its end is cruel;
I can look round, and count a hundred kings,
Unconquer'd by themselves, and slaves to others:
Hence was Jerusalem to Christians lost;
But Heaven, to blast that unbelieving race,
Taught me to be a king, by thinking like one.
Hence from the distant Euxine to the Nile,
The trumpet's voice has wak'd the world to war;
Yet, amidst arms and death, thy power has reach'd
For thou disdain'dst, like me, a languid love;
Glory and Zara join-and charm together.
Zar. I hear at once, with blushes and with joy,
This passion, so unlike your country's customs.
Osm. Passion, like mine, disdains my country's
customs;
The jealousy, the faintness, the distrust,
The proud superior coldness of the east.
I know to love you, Zara, with esteem;
To trust your virtue, and to court your soul.
Nobly confiding, I unveil my heart,
And dare inform you, that 'tis all your own:
My joys must all be yours; only my cares
Shall lie conceal'd within, and reach not Zara.
Zar. Oblig'd by this excess of tenderness, How low, how wretched was the lot of Zara! Too poor with aught, but thanks, to pay such blessings!
Osm. Not so I love and would be lov'd again! Let me confess it, I possess a soul, That what it wishes, wishes ardently. I should believe you hated, had you power To love with moderation: 'tis my aim, In every thing, to reach supreme perfection. If, with an equal flame, I touch your heart, Marriage attends your smile—But know, 'twill make
Me wretched, if it makes not Zara happy.
Osm. Already interrupted! What? Who?-Whence?
Oras. This moment, Sir, there is arriv'd That Christian slave, who, licens'd on his faith, Went hence to France-and, now return'd, prays audience.
Zar. [Aside.] Oh, Heaven!
Osm. Admit him-What ?-Why comes be
Oras. He waits without. No Christian dares approach
This place, long sacred to the Sultan's privacies. Osm. Go-bring him with thee-monarchs, like the sun,
Shine but in vain, unwarming, if unseen; [us;
With forms and rev'rence, let the great approach
Not the unhappy;-every place alike,
Gives the distress'd a privilege to enter.-
Erit ORAS. I think with horror on these dreadful maxims, Which harden kings insensibly to tyrants.
Re-enter ORASMIN with NERESTAN. Ner. Imperial Sultan! honour'd, even by foes! See me return'd, regardful of my vow, And punctual to discharge a Christian's duty. I bring the ransom of the captive Zara, Fair Selima, the partner of her fortune, And of ten Christian captives, pris'ners here. You promis'd, Sultan, if I should return, To grant their rated liberty:-Behold, I am return'd, and they are yours no more. I would have stretch'd my purpose to myself, But fortune has deny'd it ;-my poor all Sufficed no further, and a noble poverty Is now my whole possession.-I redeem The promis'd Christians; for I taught 'em hope; But, for myself, I come again your slave, To wait the fuller hand of future charity.
Osm. Christian! I must confess thy courage
But let thy pride be taught, it treads too high,
When it presumes to climb above my mercy.
Go ransomless thyself, and carry back
Their unaccepted ransoms, join'd with gifts,
Fit to reward thy purpose; instead of ten,
Demand a hundred Christians; they are thine:
Take 'em, and bid 'em teach their haughty coun
They left some virtue among Saracens
Be Lusignan alone excepted-He,
Who boasts the blood of kings, and dares lay
claim
To my Jerusalem-that claim his guilt!
Such is the law of states; had I been vanquish'd,
Thus had he said of me. I mourn his lot,
Who must in fetters, lost to day-light, pine,
And sigh away old age in grief and pain.
For Zara-but to name her as a captive,
Were to dishonour language;-she's a prize
Zar. Ah, Sir! if such a heart as gen'rous Os- Above thy purchase ;-all the Christian realms,
With all their kings to guide 'em, would unite
In vain, to force her from me-Go, retire-
Ner. For Zara's ransom, with her own consent,
I had your royal word. For LusignanUnhappy, poor, old man
Osm. Was I not heard?
Have I not told thee, Christian, all my will? What if I prais'd thee!-This presumptuous virtue,
Compelling my esteem, provokes my pride;
Be gone and when to-morrow's sun shall rise
On my dominions, be not found too near me.
[Exit NERESTAN.
Zar. [Aside.] Assist him, Heaven!
Osm. Zara, retire a moment-
Assume, throughout my palace, sovereign empire,
While I give orders to prepare the pomp
That waits to crown the mistress of my throne.
[Leads her out, and returns.
Orasmin! didst thou mark th' imperious slave?
What could he mean?—he sigh’d—and, as he
went,
'Turn'd and look'd back at Zara!-didst thou mark
Oras. Alas! my sovereign master! let not jealousy
Strike high enough to reach your noble heart.
Osm. Jealousy, saidst thou? I disdain it :-No!
Distrust is poor; and a misplac'd suspicion
Invites and justifies the falsehood fear'd.-
Yet, as I love with warmth-so, I could hate!
But Zara is above disguise and art—
My love is stronger, nobler than my power.
Jealous!-I was not jealous!-If I was
I am not-no-my heart-but, let us drown
Remembrance of the word, and of the image;
My heart is fill'd with a diviner flame.-
Go, and prepare for the approaching nuptials.
Zara to a careful empire joins delight.
I must allot one hour to thoughts of state,
Then, all the smiling day is love and Zara's.
[Exit ORASMIN.
Monarchs, by forms of pompous misery press'd,
In proud, unsocial misery, unbless'd,
Would, but for love's soft influence, curse their
throne,
And, among crowded millions, live alone. [Erit.
SCENE I.
NERESTAN and CHATILLON.
Chat. Matchless Nerestan! generous and great! You, who have broke the chains of hopeless slaves!
You Christian saviour! by a Saviour sent!
Appear, be known, enjoy your due delight;
The grateful weepers wait to clasp your knees,
They throng to kiss the happy hand that sav'd
'em:
Indulge the kind impatience of their eyes,
And, at their head, command their hearts for ever.
Ner. Illustrious Chatillon! this praise o'er-
whelms me:
What have I done beyond a Christian's duty;
Beyond what you would, in my place, have done?
Chat. True-it is every honest Christian's
duty;
Nay, 'tis the blessing of such minds as ours,
For others' good to sacrifice our own-
Yet, happy they, to whom Heaven grants the
To execute, like you, that duty's call. For us the relics of abandon'd war,
Forgot in France, and, in Jerusalem,
Left to grow old in fetters,-Osman's father
Consign'd us to the gloom of a damp dungeon,
Where, but for you, we must have groan'd out
life,
And native France have bless'd our eyes no more.
Ner. The will of gracious Heaven, that soften'd
Inspir'd me for your sakes:-But, with our joy,
Flows, mix'd, a bitter sadness-I had hop'd'
To save from their perversion, a young beauty,
Who, in her infant innocence, with me,
Was made a slave by cruel Noradin;
When, sprinkling Syria with the blood of Chris-
tians,
Cæsarea's walls saw Lusignan surpris'd,
And the proud crescent rise in bloody triumph.
From this seraglio having young escap'd,
Fate, three years since, restor'd me to my chains;
Then, sent to Paris on my plighted faith,
I flatter'd my fond hope with vain resolves,
To guide the lovely Zara to that court
Where Lewis has establish'd virtue's throne;
But Osman will detain her yet, not Osman;
Zara herself forgets she is a Christian,
And loves the tyrant Sultan !-Let that pass:
I mourn a disappointment still more cruel ;
The prop of all our Christian hope is lost!
Chat. Dispose me at your will--I am your own.
Ner. Oh, Sir, great Lusignan, so long their
That last of an heroic race of kings;
That warrior whose past fame has fill'd the world; Osman refuses to my sighs for ever!
Chat. Nay, then we have been all redeem'd in
Perish that soldier who would quit his chains,
And leave his noble chief behind in fetters.
Alas! you know him not as I have known him;
Thank Heaven that plac'd your birth so far re-
mov'd
From those detested days of blood and wo:
But I, less happy, was condemn'd to see
Thy walls, Jerusalem, beat down-and all
Our pious fathers' labours lost in ruins!
Heaven! had you seen the very temple rifled,
The sacred sepulchre itself profan'd,
Fathers with children mingled, flame together,
And our last king oppress'd with age and arms,
Murder'd, and bleeding o'er his murder'd sons!
Then Lusignan, sole remnant of his race,
Rallying our fated few amidst the flames,
Fearless, beneath the crush of falling towers,
The conquerors and the conquer'd, groans and
death!
Dreadful-and, waving in his hand a sword,
Red with the blood of infidels, cried out,
This way, ye faithful Christians! follow me.
Ner. How full of glory was that brave retreat! Chat. 'Twas Heaven, no doubt, that sav'd and led him on; Pointed his path, and march'd our guardian guide:
We reach'd Cæsarea-there the general voice
Chose Lusignan, thenceforth to give us laws;
Alas! 'twas vain-Cæsarea could not stand
When Sion's self was fallen! we were betray'd;
And Lusignan condemn'd, to length of life,
In chains, in damps, and darkness, and despair:
Yet great, amidst his miseries, he look'd,
As if he could not feel his fate himself,
But as it reach'd his followers. And shall we,
For whom our generous leader suffer'd this,
Be vilely safe, and dare be bless'd without him?
Ner. Oh! I should hate the liberty he shar'd
I knew too well the miseries you describe,
For I was born amidst them. Chains and death,
Cæsarea lost, and Saracens triumphant,
Were the first objects which my eyes e'er look'd on.
Hurried, an infant, among other infants
Snatch'd from the bosoms of their bleeding mo-
thers,
A temple sav'd us, till the slaughter ceas'd;
Then were we sent to this ill-fated city,
Here, in the palace of our former kings,
To learn, from Saracens, their hated faith,
And be completely wretched.Zara, too,
Shar'd this captivity; we both grew up
So near each other, that a tender friendship
Endear'd her to my wishes: My fond heart-
Pardon its weakness-bleeds to see her lost,
And, for a barbarous tyrant, quit her God!
Chat. Such is the Saracens' too fatal policy!
Watchful seducers, still, of infant weakness:
Happy that you so young escap'd their hands.
But let us think- May not this Zara's interest,
Loving the Sultan, and by him belov'd,
For Lusignan procure some softer sentence?
The wise and just, with innocence may draw
Their own advantage from the guilt of others.
Ner. How shall I gain admission to her pre-
Osman has banished me-but that's a trifle;
Will the seraglio's portals open to me?
Or, could I find that easy to my hopes,
What prospect of success from an apostate?
On whom I cannot look without disdain;
And who will read her shame upon my brow.
The hardest trial of a generous mind
Is to court favours from a hand it scorns.
Chat. Think it is Lusignan we seek to serve.
Ner. Well-it shall be attempted-Hark! who's
this?
Are my eyes false; or, is it really she?
Ner. Can Christians owe so dear a gift to Zara?
Zar. Hopeless, I gather'd courage to entreat
The Sultan for his liberty-amaz'd,
So soon to gain the happiness I wish'd!
See where they bring the good old chief grown dim
With age, by pain and sorrows hasten'd on.
Chat. How is my heart dissolv'd with sudden
joy!
Zar. I long to view his venerable face;
But tears, I know not why, eclipse my sight.
I feel, methinks, redoubled pity for him;
But I, alas! myself have been a slave;
And when we pity woes which we have felt,
'Tis but a partial virtue.
Ner. Amazement!-Whence this greatness in
an infidel?
Enter LUSIGNAN, led in by two Guards.
Lus. Where am I? From the dungeon's depth
what voice
Has call'd me to revisit long-lost day?
Am I with Christians ?-I am weak-forgive me,
And guide my trembling steps. I'm full of years;
My miseries have worn me more than age,
Am I in truth at liberty?
And every Christian's grief takes end with yours.
Lus. O light! O, dearer far than light, that
voice!
Chatillon, is it you? my fellow martyr!
And shall our wretchedness, indeed have end.
In what place are we now ?-my feeble eyes,
Disus'd to day-light, long in vain to find you.
Chat. This was the palace of your royal fathers:
Zar. Start not, my worthy friend: I come to 'Tis now the son of Noradin's seraglio.
seek you;
The Sultan has permitted it; fear nothing:-
But to confirm my heart which trembles near you,
Soften that angry air, nor look reproach;
Why should we fear each other, both mistaking?
Associates from our birth, one prison held us,
One friendship taught affliction to be calm,
Till Heaven thought fit to favour your escape,
And call you to the fields of happier France;
Thence, once again, it was my lot to find you
A pris'ner here, where, hid amongst a crowd
Of undistinguish'd slaves, with less restraint,
I shar'd your frequent converse ;·
It pleas'd your pity, shall I say your friendship!
Or rather, shall I call it generous charity?
To form that noble purpose to redeem
Distressful Zara-you procur'd my ransom,
And with a greatness that out-soar'd a crown,
Return'd yourself a slave to give me freedom;
But Heaven has cast our fate for different climes:
Here in Jerusalem, I fix for ever;
Yet, among all the shine that marks my fortune,
I shall with frequent tears remember yours;
Your goodness will for ever sooth my heart,
And keep your image still a dweller there:
Zar. The master of this place, the mighty Os
Distinguishes, and loves to cherish virtue.
This generous Frenchman, yet a stranger to you,
Drawn from his native soil, from peace and rest,
Brought the vow'd ransoms of ten Christian
slaves,
Himself contented to remain a captive:
But Osman, charm'd by greatness like his own,
To equal what he lov'd, has given him you.
Lus. So generous France inspires her social
They have been ever dear and useful to me-
Would I were nearer to him--Noble Sir,
[NERESTAN approaches.
How have I merited, that you for me
Should pass such distant seas to bring me bless-
And hazard your own safety for my sake?
Ner. My name, Sir, is Nerestan; born in Syria
I wore the chains of slavery from my birth;
Till quitting the proud crescent for the court
Where warlike Lewis reigns, beneath his eye
I learn'd the trade of arms-the rank I held
Was but the kind distinction which he gave me,
To tempt my courage to deserve regard.
Your sight, unhappy prince, would charm his eye;
That best and greatest monarch will behold
With grief and joy those venerable wounds,
And print embraces where your fetters bound you.
All Paris will revere the cross's martyr;
Paris, the refuge still of ruin'd kings!
Lus. Alas! in times long past, I've seen its
glory:
When Philip the victorious liv'd, I fought
A-breast with Montmorency and Melun,
D'Estaing, De Neile, and the far-famous Cour-
cy;-
Names which were then the praise and dread of
war!
But what have 1 to do at Paris now?
I stand upon the brink of the cold grave;
That way my journey lies-to find, I hope,
The King of kings, and ask the recompense
For all my woes, long-suffer'd for his sake-
You generous witnesses of my last hour,
While I yet live assist my humble prayers,
And join the resignation of my soul.
Nerestan! Chatillon!—and you, fair mourner,
Whose tears do honour to an old man's sorrows!
Pity a father, the unhappiest sure
That ever felt the hand of angry Heaven!
My eyes, though dying, still can furnish tears;
Half my long life they flow'd, and still will flow!
A daughter and three sons, my heart's proud
hopes,
Might heretofore have seen my two poor chil
dren
[Looking up.
Hah, Madam! that small ornament you wear,
Its form a stranger to this country's fashion,
How long has it been yours?
Zar. From my first birth, Sir-
Ah, what! you seem surpris'd!-why should this
move you?
Lus. Would you confide it to my trembling hands?
Zar. To what new wonders am I now reserv'd? Oh, Sir, what mean you?
Lus. Providence and Heaven!
Oh, failing eyes, deceive ye not my hope?
Can this be possible ?-Yes, yes-'tis she:
This little cross-I know it, by sure marks!
Oh! take me, Heaven! while I can die with joy-
Zar. Oh, do not, Sir, distract me!-rising
thoughts,
And hopes, and fears, o'erwhelm me!
Lus. Tell me, yet,
Has it remain'd for ever in your hands?
What-both brought captives from Cæsarea
Oh, Heaven! have I then found a father?
Lus. Their voice! their looks!
The living images of their dear mother!
O God! who seest my tears, and know'st my
thoughts,
Do not forsake me at this dawn of hope-
Were all torn from me in their tenderest years Strengthen my heart, too feeble for this joy.
My friend Chatillon knows, and can remember-Madam! Nerestan!-Help me, Chatillon!
Chat. Would I were able to forget your wo.
Lus. Thou wert a pris'ner with me in Cæsarea,
And there beheld'st my wife and two dear sons
Perish in flames.
Chat. A captive and in fetters,
I could not help 'em.
Lus. I know thou could'st not
Oh! 'twas a dreadful scene! these eyes beheld it—
Husband and father, helpless I beheld it-
Denied the mournful privilege to die!
Oh! my poor children! whom I now deplore;
If ye are saints in Heaven, as sure ye are,
Look with an eye of pity on that brother,
That sister whom you left!-If1 have yet,
Or son, or daughter:-for in early chains,
Far from their lost and unassisting father,
I heard that they were sent with numbers more,
To this seraglio; hence to be dispers'd
In nameless remnants o'er the east, and spread
Our Christian miseries round a faithless world.
Chat. 'Twas true-For in the horrors of that
day,
I snatch'd your infant daughter from her cradle;
But finding every hope of flight was vain,
Scarce had I sprinkled, from a public fountain,
Those sacred drops which wash the soul from sin,
When from my bleeding arms, fierce Saracens
Forc'd the lost innocent, who smiling lay,
And pointed, playful, at the swarthy spoilers!
With her, your youngest, then your only son,
Whose little life had reach'd the fourth sad year,
And just given sense to feel his own misfortunes,
Was order'd to this city.
Just at that fatal age, from lost Cæsarea,
Came in that crowd of undistinguish'd Chris-
Lus. You!-came you thence?-Alas! who knows but you
Nerestan, hast thou on thy breast a scar,
Which, ere Cæsarea fell, from a fierce hand,
Surprising us by night, my child receiv'd?
Ner. Bless'd hand!-I bear it.-Sir, the mark
is there!
I have a daughter gain'd, and Heaven an enemy.
Oh, my misguided daughter-lose not thy faith,
Reclaim thy birth-right-think upon the blood
Of twenty Christian kings, that fills thy veins;
'Tis heroes' blood—the blood of saints and mar-
tyrs!
What would thy mother feel to see thee thus!
She, and thy murder'd brothers !—think, they call
thee:
Release those Christians-I restore their freedom
"Twill please their master, nor can weaken me -
Transport 'em at my cost, to find their king;
I wish to have him know me: carry thither
This Lusignan, whom, tell him, I restore,
Because I cannot fear his fame in arms;
But love him for his virtue and his blood.
Tell him, my father, having conquer'd twice,
Condemn'd him to perpetual chains; but I
Have set him free that I might triumph more.
Oras. The Christians gain an army in his
Think that thou seest 'em stretch their bloody
[bosom.
And weep to win thee from their murderer's
Even in the place where thou betray'st thy God,
He died, my child to save thee.-Turn thy eyes,
And see; for thou art near his sacred sepulchre;
Thou canst not move a step, but where he trod!
Thou tremblest-Oh! admit me to thy soul;
Kill not thy aged, thy afflicted father;
Take not thus soon again the life thou gav'st him;
Shame not thy mother-nor renounce thy God-I
'Tis past-Repentance dawns in thy sweet eyes;
I see bright truth descending to thy heart,
And now my long lost child is found for ever.
Ner. Oh, doubly bless'd! a sister, and a soul,
To be redeem'd together!
Dear author of my life! inform me, teach me,
What should my duty do?
Lus. By one short word,
To dry up all my tears, and make life welcome,
Say thou art a Christian-
Zar. Sir-I am a Christian
Lus. Receive her, gracious Heaven! and bless her for it.
Oras. Madam, the Sultan order'd me to tell
That he expects you instant quit this place,
And bid your last farewell to these vile Christians.
You captive Frenchmen, follow me; for you,
It is my task to answer.
Chat. Still new miseries!
How cautious man should be, to say, I'm happy!
Lus. These are the times, my friends, to try
our firmness,
Our Christian firmness-
Zar. Alas, Sir! Oh!
Lus. Oh, you!-I dare not name you!
Farewell-but come what may, be sure remember
You keep the fatal secret: for the rest,
Leave all to Heaven-be faithful, and be bless'd.
[Exeunt.
SCENE I
OSMAN and ORASMIN.
Osm. Orasmin, this alarm was false and
groundless;
Lewis no longer turns his arms on me;
The French, grown weary by a length of woes,
Wish not at once to quit their fruitful plains,
And famish on Arabia's desert sands.
Their ships, 'tis true, have spread the Syrian seas:
And Lewis, hovering o'er the coast of Cyprus,
Alarms the fears of Asia-But I've learn'd,
That steering wide from our unmenac'd ports,
He points his thunder at the Egyptian shore.
There let him war and waste my enemies;
'Their mutual condicts will but fix my throne.-
Osm. I cannot fear a sound.
Oras. But, Sir-should Lewis
Osm. Tell Lewis and the world-it shall be so :
Zara propos'd it, and my heart approves :
Thy statesman's reason is too dull for love!
Why wilt thou force me to confess it all?
Though I to Lewis send back Lusignan,
give him but to Zara-I have griev'd her;
And ow'd her the atonement of this joy.
Thy false advices, which but now misled
My anger to confine those helpless Christians,
Gave her a pain; I feel for her and me:
But I talk on, and waste the smiling moments.
For one long hour I yet defer my nuptials;
But, 'tis not lost that hour! 'twill be all hers!
She would employ it in a conference
With that Nerestan, whom thou know'st-that
Christian!
Oras. And have you, Sir, indulged that strange
Thank Heaven, it is not, then, unlawful
To see you, yet once more, my lovely sister!
Not all so happy!-We, who met but now,
Shall never meet again- -for Lusignan
We shall be orphans still, and want a father.
Zar. Forbid it, Heaven!
Ner. His last sad hour 's at hand-
That flow of joy, which follow'd our discovery,
Too strong and sudden for his age's weakness,
Wasting his spirits, dried the source of life,
And nature yields him up to time's demand.
Shall he not die in peace?-Oh! let no doubt
|