Some artful wile of counterfeited love!
Some soft decoy to lure me to destruction!
And thou the curs’d accomplice of her treason,
Declare thy message, and expect thy doom.

The queen requested that a chosen troop
Might intercept the traitor Greek, Demetrius,
Then ling'ring with his captive mistress here.

The Greek, Demetrius ! whom th' expiring Baffa
Declar'd the chief associate of his guilt.

A chosen troop-to intercept-Demetrius
The queen requested—Wretch, repeat the message.
And if one' varied accent prove thy fallhood,
Or but one moment's pause betray confusion,
Those trembling limbs-Speak out, thou shiy'ring

The queen requested


Who? the dead Irene? Was she then guiltless ! Has my thoughtless rage Destroy'd the fairest workmanship of heav'n! H 2


Doom'd her to death unpity'd and unheard,
Amidst her kind folicitudes for me !
Ye Naves of cruelty, ye tools of rage, [T. Haf. & Car.
Ye blind officious ministers of folly,
Could not her charms repress your zeal for murder ?
Could not her prayers, her innocence, her tears,
Suspend the dreadful sentence for an hour?
One hour had freed me from the fatal error,
One hour had fav’d me from despair and madness.

Your fierce impatience forc'd us from your presence,
Urg'd us to speed, and bade us banish pity,
Nor trust our passions with her fatal charms.

What hadft thou loft by flighting those commands ?
Thy life perhaps Were but Irene spar'd,
Well if a thousand lives like thine had perish'd ;
Such beauty, sweetness, love, were cheaply bought,
With half the grov'ling daves that load the globe.

Great is thy woe! but think, illustrious Sultan,
Such ills are sent for souls like thine to conquer.
Shake off this weight of unavailing grief,
Rush to the war, display thy dreadful banners,
And lead thy troops victorious round the world...


[ocr errors]


Robb'd of the maid with whom I wild to triumph,
No more I burn for fame, or for dominion
Success and conquest now are empty sounds,
Remorse and anguish seize on all my breast ;'
Those groves, whose shades enibower'd the dear Irene,
Heard her last cries, and fann'd her dying beauties,
Shall hide me from the tasteless world for ever.

[Mahomet goes back and returns.
Yet ere I quit the sceptre of dominion ;
Let one just act conclude the hateful day.
Hew down, ye guards, those vaffals of distraction,

[Pointing to Hafan and Caraza.
Those hounds of blood, that catch the hint to kill ;
Bear off with eager hafte th' unfinish'd sentence,
And speed the stroke lest mercy should o’ertake them.

Then hear, great Mahoniet, the voice of truth :

Hear ! shall I hear thee! didst thou hear Irene ?


Hear but a moment.


Hadft thou heard a moment, Thou might't have liv'd, for thou hadît spar'd Irene.


I heard her, pitied her, and wish'd to fave ber.

And wish'd-Be still thy fate to wish in vain.

I heard, and soften’d, till Abdalla brought
Her final doom, and hurried ber destruction.

Abdalla brought her doom ! Abdalla brought it !
The wretch, whose guilt declar'd by tortur'd Cali,
My rage and grief had hid from my remembrance ;
Abda!!a brought her doom !


Abdalla brought it,
While she yet begg'd to plead her cause before thee.

O seize me, madness did she call on me!
I feel, I see the ruffian's barb'rous rage.
He seiz'd her melting in the fond appeal,
And stopp'd the heav'nly voice that calld on me.
My spirits fail, awhile support me, vengeance
Be just, ye flaves, and, to be just, be cruel,
Contrive new racks, imbitter every pang,
Inflict whatever treason can deserve,
Which murder'd innocence that calld on me.

[Exit Mahomet. (Abdalla is dragg's off. SCENE XIII.



MUSTAPHA 10 MURZA. What plagues, what tortures, are in store for thee, Thou Nuggish idler, dilatory Nave ? Behold the model of consunimate beauty, Torn from the mourning earth by thy neglect.

MURZA, Such was the will of heav'n-A band of Greeks That mark'd my course, suspicious of my purpose, Rush'd out and seiz'd me, thoughtless and unarm'd, Breathless, amaz’d, and on the guarded beach Detain'd me till Demetrius set me free.

MUSTAPHA. So sure the fall of greatness rais'd on crimes, So fix'd the justice of all conscious hear'n. When haughty guilt exults with impious joy, Mistake shall blast, or accident destroy ; Weak man with erring rage may throw the dart But hear'n fhall guide it to the guilty heart,


« ElőzőTovább »