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This wreath of early glories!-Oh, my friend! I talk not of a sceptre, which he gives me : No--to be charm'd with that were thanks too humble!

Offensive tribute, and too poor for love! 'Twas Osman won my heart, not Osman's

crown:

I love not in him aught besides himself. Thou think'st perhaps, that these are starts of passion ; [him, But had the will of Heaven less bent to bless Doom'd Osman to my chains, and me to fill The throne that Osman sits on-ruin and wretchedness

Catch and consume my wishes, but I would-To raise me to myself, descend to him.

Sel. Hark! the wish'd music sounds-'Tis he-he comes[Exit SELIMA. Zar. My heart prevented him, and found him near: [hour Absent two whole long days, the slow-pac'd At last is come, and gives him to my wishes. [A grund march. Enter OSMAN, reading a paper, which he redelivers to ÓRASMIN; with Attendants. Osm. Wait my return-or, should there be

a cause

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 Of your imperial image-every where [me 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 [not; Their empire to me, but their taste they gave 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 me;

For thou disdain'st, 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:

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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
Let me confess it, I possess a soul, [again !
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.
Zar. Ah, Sir! if such a heart as gen'rous
Osman's

Can, from my will, submit to take its bliss,
What mortal ever was decreed so happy !
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!
To be-

Enter ORASMIN.

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 he

not ?

Oras. He waits without. No Christian dares approach [racies. This place, long sacred to the Sultan's priOsm. Go-bring him with thee-monarchs, like the sun,

Shine but in vain, unwarming, if unseen ; With forms and rev'rence, let the great apNot the unhappy ; every place alike, proach us; Gives the distress'd a privilege to enter.[Exit 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
See me return'd, regardful of my vow, [foes!
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

charms me:

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
country,

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 van-
quish'd,

Thes had he said of me. I mourn his lot,
Who must in fetters, lost to day-light, pine,
And sigh away old age in griet and paia.
For Zara-but to name her as a captive,
Were to dishonour language ;-she's a prize
Above thy purchase ;—all the Christian realms,
With all their kings to guide 'em, would unite
la vain, to force her from me-Go, retire-
Ner. For Zara's ransom, with her own con-
sent,

I had your royal word. For Lusignan-
Unhappy, 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 em.
pire,

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 it?

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.
[Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

NERESTAN and CHATILLON. Chat. Matchless Nerestan! generous and great! [slaves! You, who ha ve broke the chains of hopeless You Christian saviour! by a Saviour sent! Appear, be known, enjoy your due delight; The grateful weepers wait to clasp your knees,

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soften'd Osman,

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
Christians,

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

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in vain;

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;
[remov'd
Thank Heaven that plac'd your birth so far
From those detested days of blood and wo:
But I, less happy, was condemn'd to see
Thy walls, Jerusalem, beat down-und 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

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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 ; [guide: Pointed his path, and march'd our guardian We reach'd Caesarea-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

not.

I knew too well the miseries you describe, For I was born amidst them. Chains and death,

Cæsarea lost, and Saracens triumphant, [on.
Were the first objects which my eyes e'er look'd
Hurried, an infant, among other infants
Snatch'd from the bosoms of their bleeding
mothers,

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.

[terest, But let us think- -May not this Zara's inLoving 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 presence?

Osman has banish'd 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.

Chut. 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?

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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; [tune,
Yet, among all the shine that marks my for-
I shall with frequent tears remember yours;
Your goodness will for ever sooth my heart,
And keep your image still a dweller there:
Warm'd by your great example to protect
That faith, that lifts humanity so high,
I'll be a mother to distressful Christians.
Ner. How! You protect the Christians! you,
who can

Abjure their saving truth, and coldly see
Great Lusignan, their chief, die slow in chains!
Zar. To bring him freedom you behold me

here;

You will this moment meet his eyes in joy. Chat. Shall I then live to bless that happy

hour?

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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:

"Tis now the son of Noradin's seraglio.

Zar. The master of this place, the mighty

Osman,

Distinguishes, and loves to cherish virtue.
This generous Frenchman, yet a stranger to

you,

rest, [slaves, Brought the vow'd ransoms of ten Christian Himself contented to remain a captive: [own, But Osman, charm'd by greatness like his To equal what he lov'd, has given him you. Lus. So generous France inspires her social sons!

Drawn from his native soil, from peace and | 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, [cradle; I snatch'd your infant daughter from her 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,

They have been ever dear and useful to meWould 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 blessings,

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 To tempt my courage to deserve regard. [me, 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 All Paris will revere the cross's martyr; [you. 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
Courcy ;-
[of war!
Names which were then the praise and dread
But what have I 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 sor-
Pity a father, the unhappiest sure [rows!
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!
[hopes,
A daughter and three sons, my heart's proud
Were all torn from me in their tenderest
years
[ber-
My friend Chatillon knows, and can remem-
Chat. Would I were able to forget your wo.
Lus. Thou wert a pris'ner with me in Casa-

rea,

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

Ob, '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!-If I 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
To this seraglio; hence to be dispers❜d [more,

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, [tunes,

And just given sense to feel his own misforWas order'd to this city.

Ner. I, too, hither,

Just at that fatal age, from lost Cæsarea, Came in that crowd of undistinguish'd Chris

tians.

Lus. You!-came you thence ?-Alas! who knows but you

dren.

Might heretofore have seen my two poor chil[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 reOh, Sir, what mean you? [serv'd?

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

Zur. 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

hither?

Zar. Both, both

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-
Strengthen my heart, too feeble for this joy.
Madam! Nerestan!-Help me, Chatillon!
[Rising.

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-1 bear it.-Sir, the mark is there!

Lus. Merciful Heaven!

Ner. [Kneeling.] Oh, Sir!-Oh, Zara, kneel.

Zar. [Kneeling.] My father!-Oh !-
Lus. Oh, my lost children!

Both. Oh!

Lus. My son! my daughter! lost in em

bracing you,

[dream.

I would now die, lest this should prove a Chat. How touch'd is my glad heart to see

their joy!

Lus. They shall not tear you from my arms -my children!

Again, 1 find you-dear in wretchedness: Oh, my brave son-and thou, my nameless daughter!

Now dissipate all doubt, remove all dread; Has Heaven, that gives me back my children -given em, [me? Such as I lost 'em?-Come they Christians to One weeps, and one declines a conscious eye! Your silence speaks-too well I understand it.

Zar. I cannot, Sir, deceive you-Osman's laws

Were mine-and Osman is not Christian.

Lus. Her words are thunder bursting on my head;

Were't not for thee, my son, I now should die. Full sixty years I fought the Christians' cause, Saw their doom'd temple fall, their power destroy'd :

Twenty, a captive in a dungeon's depth, Yet never for myself my tears sought Heaven; All for my children rose my fruitless prayers: Yet, what avails a father's wretched joy? I have a daughter gain'd, and Heaven an ene[faith, Oh, my misguided daughter-lose not thy Reclaim thy birth-right-think upon the blood Of twenty Christian kings, that fills thy veins; "Tis heroes' blood-the blood of saints and martyrs !

my.

What would thy mother feel, to see thee thus ! She, and thy murder'd brothers !-think, they call thee: Tarms, Think that thou seest 'em stretch their bloody And weep to win thee from their murderer's bosom.

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; [trod! Thou canst not move a step, but where he 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: [GodShame not thy mother-nor renounce thy "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!

Zar. Oh, my father!

Dear author of my life! inform me, teach me, What should my duty do?

Lus. By one short word,

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Osm. Orasmin, this alarm was false and groundless;

woes,

seas:

Lewis no longer turns his arms on me ; The French, grown weary by a length of Wish not at once to quit their fruitful plains, And famish on Arabia's desert sands. Their ships, 'tis true, have spread the Syrian 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 conflicts will but fix my throne.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

name.

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,
I 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;

To dry up all my tears, and make life welcome, But, 'tis not lost that hour! 'twill be all hers!

Say thou art a Christian

Zar. Sir-I am a Christian

Lus. Receive her, gracious Heaven! and bless her for it.

Enter ORASMIN.

Oras. Madam, the Sultan order'd me to tell you,

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!

[happy! How cautious man should be, to say, I'm Lus. These are the times, my friends, to try our firmness, Our Christian firmnessZar. Alas, Sir! Oh!

She would employ it in a conference
With that Nerestan, whom thou know'st-

that Christian!

Oras. And have you, Sir, indulged that strange desire?

Osm. What mean'st thou ? They were infant

slaves together;

Friends should part kind, who are to meet no

more.

When Zara asks, I will refuse her nothing:
Restraint was never made for those we love.
Down with those rigours of the proud seraglio;
I hate its laws-where blind austerity
Sinks virtue to necessity.-My blood
Disclaims your Asian jealousy; I hold
The fierce, free plainness of my Scythian an-

cestors,

Their open confidence, their honest hate,
Their love unfearing, and their anger told.

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