The arm of the Most High is bared against thee
And see-the hand of fate describes thy doom
In glaring letters on yon rubied wall!
Each gleam of light is perish'd out of heaven,
And darkness rushes o'er the face of earth.
Timur. Think'st thou, vile slave, with vision-
ary fears
I e'er can shrink appall'd? Thou moon-struck seer?
No more I'll bear this mockery of words:
Or straight resolve me, or by hell and vengeance,
Unheard-of torment waits thee.
Zamti. Know'st thou not
I offer'd up my boy? and after that,
After that conflict, think'st thou there is aught Zamti has left to fear?
Timur. Yes, learn to fear
My will, my sovereign will, which here is law, And treads upon the neck of slaves.
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Timur. Thou pernicious slave! [TO ZAMTI. Him too wouldst thou withdraw from justice?him
Wouldst thou send hence to Corea's realm to brood
D'er some new work of treason? By the powers
Who feel a joy in vengeance, and delight
In human blood, I will unchain my fury
On all, who trace Zaphimri in his years;
But chief on thee and thy devoted race.
Enter MANDANE and HAMET. MIRVAN guarding them, &-c.
Woman, attend my words-instant reveal
This dark conspiracy, and save thyself.
If wilful thou wilt spurn the joys that woo thee,
The rack shall have its prey.
I tell thee, Homicide, my soul is bound
By solemn vows; and wouldst thou have me break
What angels wafted on their wings to heaven? Timur. Renounce your rash resolves, nor court destruction.
Man. Goddess of vengeance, from your realms above,
Where near the throne of the Most High thou dwell'st,
Insphered in darkness, amidst hoards of thunder,
Serenely dreadful, till dire human crimes
VOL. II.... 4 G
51
Provoke thee down; now, on the whirlwind's wing
Descend, and with your flaming sword, your bolts Red with almighty wrath, let loose your rage, And blast this vile seducer in his guilt,
Timur. Blind frantic woman!-think on your loved boy.
Man. That tender struggle's o'er-if he must die,
I'll greatly dare to follow.
Timur. Then forthwith
Thy death is plotting.
Timur. Ha!- -by whom?
Zaph. Zaphimri !
Zamti. What means my son !-
Timur. Quick, give him to my rage,
And mercy shall to thee extend.
Zaph. Think not
I meanly come to save this wretched being.
Pity Mandane-save her tender frame!-
[Kneels. Pity that youth!-oh! save that godlike man! Zamti. Wilt thou dishonour me, degrade thyself,
Thy native dignity, by basely kneeling.
Quit that vile posture.
Timur. Rash intruder, hence.
[TO ZAMTI. Hear me, thou stripling;-or unfold thy tale Or by yon heaven they die-Wouldst thou appease my wrath, Bring me Zaphimri's head.
Zaph. Will that suffice? Zamti. Oh! Heavens! Timur. It will
Zaph. Then take it, tyrant.
When I am dead-oh! give me just revenge! [Aside. Let not my shade rise unatoned amongst ye; Let me not die inglorious; make my tall, With some great act of yet unheard-of vengeance. Resound throughout the world, that farthest Scythia
[Rising up, and pointing to himself. Zamti and Hamet. Ah!
Zaph. I am Zaphimri-I your mortal foe!
Zamti. Now by yon Heaven, it is not-
Zaph. Here-strike here-
Since nought but royal blood can quench thy thirst,
Unsluice these veins-but spare their matchless
Timur. Wouldst thou deceive me too? Zamti. He would
Zaph. No-here,
Here on his knees, Zaphimri begs to die.
Zamti. Oh! horror, 'tis my son!-by great
Confucius,
That is my Etan, my too generous boy,
That fain would die to save his aged sire!
Man. Alas! all 's ruin'd-freedom is no more! [Aside. Zaph. Yet hear me, Tartar-hear the voice of truth
I am your victim-by the gods, I am.
[Laying hold of TIMURKAN. Timur. Thou early traitor!-by your guilty
Zaph. Oh! cruel!-yet a moment-barbarous Scythians!
Wilt thou not open, earth, and take me down,
Down to thy caverns of eternal darkness,
From this supreme of wo? Here will I lie,
Here on thy flinty bosom-with this breast
I'll harrow up my grave, and end at once
This powerless wretch-this ignominious king!
And sleeps almighty Justice? Will it not
Now waken all its terrors ?-arm yon band
Of secret heroes with avenging thunder?
By Heaven that thought [Rising.] lifts up my
kindling soul
With renovated fire. [Aside.] My glorious friends,
(Who now convene big with your country's fate)
May stand appall'd at the huge distant roar
Of one vast ruin tumbling on the heads
Of this fell tyrant, and his hated race.
Even to the fullest luxury of vengeance.
Guard well that passage: [To the Guards with
in-see these traitors find
No means of flight; while to the conqueror
I hasten, to receive his last commands.
[Exit on the opposite side. Zamti. Thou ever faithful creature!Man. Canst thou, Zamti,
Still call me faithful? By that honour'd name
Wilt thou call her, whose mild maternal love
Hath overwhelm'd us all?
Zamti. Thou art my wife,
Whose matchless excellence, even in bondage,
Hath cheer'd my soul; but now thy every charm,
By virtue waken'd, kindled by distress
To higher lustre, all my passions beat
Unutterable gratitude and love.
And must-oh! cruel!-must I see thee bleed?
Man. For me death wears no terror on his
Full twenty years hath this resounding breast Been smote with these sad hands; these haggard eyes
Have seen my country's fall; my dearest husband
My son-my king-all in the Tartar's hands: What then remains for me? Death-only death Zamti. Ah! can thy tenderness endure the
Inventive cruelty even now designs?
Must this fair form-this soft perfection bleed?
Thy decent limbs be strain'd with cruel cords
To glut a ruffian's rage ?-
Man. Alas! this frame,
This feeble texture never can sustain it.
But this-this I can bear-
Zamti. Oh! never-
Hence let me bear this fatal instrument.
[Takes the dagger.
What, to usurp the dread prerogative
Of life and death, and measure out the thread
Of our own beings!-'tis the coward's act,
Who dares not to encounter pain and peril.
Be that the practice of th' untutor'd savage;
Be it the practice of the gloomy North.
Man. Must we then wait a haughty tyrant's
nod,
The vassals of his will ?-No-let us rather
Nobly break through the barriers of this life,
And join the beings of some other world,
Who'll throng around our greatly daring souls,
And view the deed with wonder and applause.
Zamti. Distress too exquisite !—Ye holy pow-
If aught below can supersede your law,
And plead for wretches, who dare, self-impell'd,
Rush to your awful presence;-oh!-it is not
When the distemper'd passions rage, when pride
Is stung to madness, when ambition falls
From his high scaffolding;-oh! no. If aught
Can justify the blow, it is when virtue
Has nothing left to do; when liberty
No more can breathe at large; 'tis with the groans
Of our dear country when we dare to die.
Man. Then here, at once, direct the friendly
[become
steel.
Zamti. One last adieu!-now!-ah! does this
Thy husband's love?-thus with uplifted blade
Can I approach that bosom-bliss, where oft
With other looks than these-oh! my Mandane!
I've hush'd my cares within thy sheltering arms?
Man. Alas! the loves that hover'd o'er our pil-
lows
Have spread their pinions, never to return,
And the pale fates surround us!-
Then lay me down in honourable rest:
Come, as thou art, all hero, to my arms,
And free a virtuous wife.
Zamti. It must be so.
Conscious of thee in every trembling nerve.
[Dashes down the dagger.
By Heaven, once more I would not raise the point
Against that hoard of sweets, for endless years
Of universal empire.
Man. Ha! the fell ministers of wrath-and yet
They shall not long insult us in our woes.
Myself will still preserve the means of death.
[Takes up the dagger.
Enter TIMURKAN and OCTAR.
Timur. Now then, detested pair, your hour is
Drag forth these slaves to instant death and tor-
ment.
I hate this dull delay: I burn to see them
Gasping in death, and weltering in their gore.
Man. Zamti, support my steps-with thee to
Is all the boon Mandane now would crave.
[Exeunt MANDANE and ZAMTI.
Timur. Those rash, presumptuous boys, are
they brought forth?
Octar. Mirvan will lead the victims to their
fate.
Timur. And yet what boots their death ?-the
Orphan lives,
And in this breast fell horror and remorse
Must be the dire inhabitants.-Oh! Octar,
These midnight visions shake my inmost soul!
Octar. And shall the shadowings of a feverish
brain
Disturb a conqueror's breast?
Timur. Octar, they've made
Such desolation here-'tis drear and horrible!
On yonder couch, soon as sleep closed my eyes,
All that yon mad enthusiastic priest
In mystic rage denounced, rose to my view;
And ever and anon a livid flash,
From conscience shot, show'd to my aching sight
The colours of my guilt-
Billows of blood were round me; and the ghosts,
The ghosts of heroes, by my rage destroy'd,
Came with their ghastly orbs, and streaming
wounds;
bed;-with loud acclaim
They stalk'd around my
They call'd Zaphimri ! 'midst the lightning's blaze
Heaven roll'd consenting thunders o'er my head;
Straight from his covert the youth sprung upon
And shook his gleaming steel-he hurl'd me down, Down, headlong down the drear-hold, hold! where am I?—
Oh! this dire whirl of thought-my brain's on
Octar. Compose this wild disorder of thy soul. Your foes this moment die.
Want not a monarch's sword-the valiant Octar, Join'd by yon faithful guard, will soon chastise them.
Timur. Then be it so-Octar, draw off the guard,
[Exit OCTAR. And bring their leaders bound in chains before Mir. With sure conviction we have further learn'd
The long-contended truth-Etan 's their king-
The traitor Zamti counted but one son;
And him he sent far hence to Corea's realm,
That should it e'er be known the prince survived,
The boy might baffle justice.
Timur. Ha! this moment
Ourself will see him fall.
Mir. Better, my liege,
At this dead hour you sought repose-mean time
Your foes
Justice on him shall hold her course.
Else might still urge that you delight in blood.
The semblance of humanity will throw
A veil upon ambition's deeds-'tis thus
That mighty conquerors thrive ;-and even vice,
When it would prosper, borrows virtue's mien.
Timur. Mirvan, thou counsell'st right: be-
neath a show
Of public weal we lay the nations waste.
And yet these eyes shall never know repose,
Till they behold Zaphimri perish. Mirvan,
Attend me forth.
True to the destined hour, at once broke forth
From every quarter on th' astonish'd foe:
Octar is fallen; all cover'd o'er with wounds
He met his fate; and still the slaughtering sword
Invades the city, sunk in sleep and wine."
Zaph. Lo! Timurkan lies levell'd with the
dust!
Send forth, and let Orasming straight proclaim
Zaphimri king- my subjects' rights restored.
[Exit MORAT. Now, where is Zamti? where Mandane?-ha! What means that look of wan despair? Enter MIRVAN.
Mir. Oh! dire mischance! While here I trembled for the great event, The unrelenting slaves, whose trade is death, Began their work. Nor piety, nor age, Could touch their felon-hearts; they seized on
Released from anguish, with what strength remain'd,
He reach'd the couch where lost Mandane lay;
There threw his mangled limbs; there, clinging
to the body,
Prints thousand kisses on her clay-cold lips,
And pours his sad lamentings, in a strain
Might call each pitying angel from the sky,
To sympathize with human wo.
[The great folding doors open in the back Scene.
Zaph. And see,
See on that mournful bier he clasps her still;
Still hangs upon each faded feature; still
To her deaf ear complains in bitter anguish.
Heart-piercing sight!
Hamet. Oh! agonizing scene!
[The corpse is brought forward, ZAMTI lying
on the couch, and clasping the dead body.
Zamti. Ah! stay, Mandane stay!-yet once
again
Let me behold the day-light of thy eyes!-
Gone, gone-for ever, ever gone! Those orbs
That ever gently beam'd, must dawn no more!
Zaph. Are these our triumphs ?-these our
promised joys?
Zamti. The music of that voice recalls my
soul.
[Rises from the body, and runs eagerly to
embrace ZAPHIMRI; his strength fails
him, and he falls at his feet.
Zaph. Soft, raise him from the ground.
Zamti. Zaphimri-Hamet too!-Oh! bless'd
The helpless innocent; and learn to feel
The best delight of serving human kind.
Be these, my prince, thy arts; be these thy cares,
And live the father of a willing people.
Hamet. Oh! cruel!-see-ah! see!-he dies!
-his lips
Tremble in agony-his eye-balls glare!-
A death-like paleness spreads o'er all his face!
Zaph. Is there no help to save so dear a life?
Zamti. It is too late-I die-alas! I die!—
Life harass'd out, pursued with barbarous art,
Through every trembling joint-now fails at once!
Zaphimri-oh: farewell!-I shall not see
The glories of thy reign.-Hamet!--my son-
Thou good young man, farewell! Mandane, yes,
My soul with pleasure takes her flight, that thus
[Dies.
Faithful in death, I leave these cold remains
Near thy dear honour'd clay.
Zaph. And art thou gone,
Thou best of men ?-Then must Zaphimri pine
In ever-during grief, since thou art lost;
Since that firm patriot, whose parental care
Should raise, should guide, should animate my
[virtues,
Lies there a breathless corse.
Hamet. My liege, forbear:
Live for your people; madness and despair
Belongs to woes like mine.
Zaph. Thy woes indeed,
Are deep, thou pious youth-yes, I will live,
To soften thy afflictions; to assuage
A nation's grief, when such a pair expires.
Come to my heart:-in thee another Zamti
Shall bless the realm. Now let me hence to hail
My people with the sound of peace; that done,
I could not hope such tidings.-Thee, my prince-To these a grateful monument shall raise,
Thee too, my son-I thought ye both destroy'd.
My slow remains of life cannot endure
These strong vicissitudes of grief and joy.
With all sepulchral honour. Frequent there
We'll offer incense ;-there each weeping muse
Shall grave the tributary verse;-with tears
And there-oh! Heaven!-see there, there lies Embalm their memories; and teach mankind,
Hamet. How fares it now, my father?
Zamti. Lead me to her
Is that the ever dear, the faithful woman!
-And is it thus at length,
Thus do I see thee, then, Mandane ?—Cold,
Cold is that breast, where virtue from above
Made its delighted sojourn, and those lips
That utter'd heavenly truth-pale!-pale!-dead,
dead!
Sinks on the body.
Pray ye entomb me with her!
Zaph. Then take, ye Powers, then take your
conquests back;
Zaphimri never can survive-
Zamti. [Raising himself.] I charge thee live:
A base desertion of the public weal
Can ne'er become a king.-Alas! my son-
(By that dear tender name if once again
Zamti may call thee)-tears will have their way!
Forgive this flood of tenderness: my heart
Melts even now! Thou noble youth, this is
The only interview we e'er shall have.
Zaph. And will ye then, inexorable Powers,
Will ye then tear him from my aching heart?
Zamti. The moral duties of the private man
Are grafted in thy soul-oh! still remember,
The mean immutable of happiness,
Or in the vale of life, or on a throne,
Is virtue. Each bad action of a king
Extends beyond his life, and acts again
Its tyranny o'er ages yet unborn.
To error mild, severe to guilt, protect
51*
Howe'er oppression stalk the groaning earth,
Yet Heaven, in its own hour, can bring relief;
Can blast the tyrant in his guilty pride,
And prove the Orphan's guardian to the last.
THROUGH five long acts I've worn my sighing face,
Confined by critic laws to time and place;
Yet that once done, I ramble as I please,
Cry London Hoy; and whisk o'er land and
Ladies, excuse my dress-'tis true Chinese.
Thus, quit of husband, death and tragic strain,
Let us enjoy our dear small talk again.
How could this bard successful hope to prove?
So many heroes-and not one in love!
-Your eyes so kill!—
No suitor here to talk of flames that thrill;
To say the civil thing-
-to our will!
No ravisher, to force us-
You've seen their eastern virtues, patriot passions,
And now for something of their taste and fash-
[Fidget,
ions,
"O Lord! that's charming,"-cries my Lady
"I long to know it-Do the creatures visit?
-Well, how is it?"
Dear Mrs. Yates, go tell us-
First, as to beauty-Set your hearts at rest-
They're all broad foreheads, and pig's eyes at best.
And then they lead such strange, such formal
-A little more at home than English wives:
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