THE ORPHAN OF CHINA,

A TRAGEDY,

Front matter

Nuncia fama ruit, matrisque allabitur aures;

Evolat infelix et fæmineo ululatu

Scissa comam, muros amens atque agmina cursu

Prima petit: non illa virum, non illa Pericli

Telorumque memor: cælum dehinc questibus implet.

Virg.

[Page ]

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE John, Earl of Bute, GROOM of the STOLE TO HIS Royal Highness the Prince of Wales.

[Page ]

PROLOGUE. [By Whitehead, W.]

By WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, Esq; POET-LAUREAT.

Spoken by Mr. HOLLAND.

Enough of Greece and Rome. Th'exhausted store

Of either nation now can charm no more:

Ev'n adventitious helps in vain we try,

Our triumphs languish in the public eye;

And grave processions, musically slow,

Here pass unheeded,—as a Lord Mayor's shew.

On eagle wings the poet of to-night

Soars for fresh virtues to the source of light,

To China's eastern realms: and boldly bears

Confucius' morals to Britannia's ears.

Accept th'imported boon; as ecchoing Greece

Receiv'd from wand'ring chiefs her golden fleece;

Nor only richer by the spoils become,

But praise th'advent'rous youth, who brings them home.

One dubious character, we own, he draws,

A patriot zealous in a monarch's cause!

Nice is the task the varying hand to guide,

And teach the blending colours to divide;

Where, rainbow-like, th'encroaching tints invade

Each other's bounds, and mingle light with shade.

If then, assiduous to obtain his end,

You find too far the subject's zeal extend;

If undistinguish'd loyalty prevails

Where nature shrinks, and strong affection fails,

On China's tenets charge the fond mistake,

And spare his error for his Virtue's sake.

From nobler motives our allegiance springs,

For Britain knows no Right Divine in Kings;

From freedom's choice that boasted right arose,

And thro' each line from freedom's choice it flows.

Justice, with Mercy join'd, the throne maintains;

And in his People's Hearts our Monarch reigns.

[Page ]

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Mrs. YATES.

Thro' five long acts I've wore my sighing face,

Confin'd 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 seas—

—Ladies, excuse my dress—'tis true Chinese.

Thus, quit of husband, death, and tragic strain,

Let us enjoy our dear small talk again.

How cou'd this bard successful hope to prove?

So many heroes,—and not one in love!

No suitor here to talk of flames that thrill;

To say the civil thing—“Your eyes so kill!”—

No ravisher, to force us—to our will!

You've seen their eastern virtues, patriot passions,

And now for something of their taste and fashions.

O Lord! that's charming—cries my Lady Fidget,

I long to know it—Do the creatures visit?

Dear Mrs. Yates, do, tell us—Well, how is it?

First, as to beauty—Set your hearts at rest—

They're all broad foreheads, and pigs eyes at best.

And then they lead such strange, such formal lives!—

—A little more at home than English wives:

Lest the poor things shou'd roam, and prove untrue,

They all are crippled in the tiney shoe.

A hopeful scheme to keep a wife from madding!

—We pinch our feet, and yet are ever gadding.

Then they've no cards, no routs, ne'er take their fling,

And pin-money is an unheard-of thing!

Then how d'ye think they write?—You'll ne'er divine—

From top to bottom down in one strait line.

                                         [Mimicks.

We ladies, when our flames we cannot smother,

Write letters—from one corner to another.

                                         [Mimicks.

One mode there is, in which both climes agree;

I scarce can tell—'Mongst friends then let it be—

—The creatures love to cheat as well as we.

But bless my wits! I've quite forgot the bard—

A civil soul!—By me he sends this card—

“Presents respects—to ev'ry lady here—

“Hopes for the honor—of a single tear.”

The critics then will throw their dirt in vain,

One drop from you will wash out ev'ry stain.

Acquaints you—(now the man is past his fright)

He holds his rout,—and here he keeps his night.

Assures you all a welcome kind and hearty,

The ladies shall play crowns—and there's the shilling party.

                                         [Points to the upper gallery.

[Page ]

1

Dramatis Personæ.

SCENE, Pekin, Capital of China.

[Page 1]

Main text

ACT I.

Enter Mandane and Mirvan.

MANDANE.

No, never; Mirvan, never—still this heart

Must throb with ceaseless woe—All-gracious heav'n!

Will not this palace drench'd in gore; the crown

Of China's kings fix'd on the Tartar's brow;

Will not a tract of twenty years in bondage!

Ah! will not these suffice, without fresh cause

Of bitter anguish in Mandane's breast?—

MIRVAN.

Better suppress these unavailing tears,

This fruitless flood of grief.—

[Page 2]

MANDANE.

It will not be—

Ev'n mid'st the horrors of this dismal hour,

When fate has all transferr'd from lost Cathai

To vile barbarian hands;—in such an hour

This heart, revolting from the public cause,

Bleeds from a private source; bleeds for the woes

That hang o'er Zamti's house—

MIRVAN.

Alas! Mandane,

Amidst the gen'ral wreck, who does not feel

The keen domestic pang?

MANDANE.

Yes, all.—We all

Must feel the kindred-touch;—daily the cries

Of widows, orphans, father, son, and brother

In vain are sent to heav'n;—the wasteful rage

Of these barbarians,—these accurs'd invaders,—

[25]  Burns with increasing fire;—the thunder still

Rolls o'er our heads, threatning with hideous crash

To fall at once, and bury us in ruin.

MIRVAN.

And quickly fall it must!—The hand of heav'n

Weighs this great empire down.—

MANDANE.

Nay, tax not heav'n!

Almighty justice never bares it's arm

'Gainst innocence and truth.—'Tis Timurkan,

That fell barbarian—that insatiate waster—

May curses blast the Tartar!—he—'tis he

Has bore down all, and still his slaught'ring sword

In yonder field of death, where Corea's troops

Made their last stand for liberty and China,

Crimsons the land with blood.—This battle lost,

Oh! then farewel to all.—But, Mirvan, say,

How came the tidings?—

[Page 3]

MIRVAN.

From yon lofty tow'r,

As my eyes, straining tow'rd the distant plain,

Sent forth an anxious look, thro' clouds of dust

The savage bands appear'd; the western sun

Gleam'd on their burnish'd helms;—and soon a shout

From the glad multitude proclaim'd th'approach

Of Timurkan; elated with new conquest,

The tyrant comes, and where his wrath will stop

Heav'n only knows.—

MANDANE.

[50]  Oh! there—there lies the thought

At which imagination starts, appall'd

With horror at the scene her busy workings

Have colour'd to my sight—there lies the thought

That wakens all a mother's fears—alas!

I tremble for my son—

MIRVAN.

Your son!—kind heav'n!

Have you not check'd his ardour?—with your tears,

Your soft authority, restrain'd the hero

From the alarms of war?—

MANDANE.

Alas, good Mirvan,

Thou little know'st his danger—but that truth

Must never pass these lips.—

MIRVAN.

I hope Mandane

Doubts not my honest zeal—full well you know

I bear this tyrant deep and mortal hate;

That under him I list, and wear this garb

In hopes that some occasion may arrive,

When I may strike an unexpected blow,

And do my country right.

[Page 4]

MANDANE.

Thy loyalty,

Thy truth, and honour have been ever spotless.

Besides thy wrongs, thy countless wrongs, the wounds

He gave your injur'd family and name,—

MIRVAN.

Alas! those wounds must still lie bleeding here,

[75]  Untented by the hand of time—Not all

His lenient arts, his favours heap'd upon me,

Shall cool the burning anguish of my soul.

What he, that slew my father! dragg'd my sister,

Blooming in years, to his detested bed!

Yes, tyrant, yes;—thy unextinguish'd foe

Dwells in this bosom.—Surely then to me

Mandane may reveal her griefs—her wrongs

Will add new fuel to my hidden fires,

And make them burn more fiercely.—

MANDANE.

Urge no more—

My woes must rest conceal'd—yet should the tyrant

Learn from the captives of yon vanquish'd host,

That China's Orphan breathes the vital air,

And to himself unknown within his breast

Unconscious bears the gen'rous glowing flame

Of all the virtues of his royal line;

Oh! should they know that the dear youth survives,

That for his righteous cause this war began,

Their fury then would kindle to a blaze,

Might wrap the world in flames, and in the ruin

My blameless son might perish.

MIRVAN.

Seek not thus

To multiply the ills that hover round you;

Nor from the stores of busy fancy add

[100]  New shafts to fortune's quiver.—Zamti's care

Hath still deceiv'd suspicion's wakeful eye;

[Page 5]

And o'er the mandarine his manners pure,

And sacred function have diffus'd an air

Of venerable awe, which e'en can teach

These northern foes to soften into men.

MANDANE.

Yes, Mirvan, yes—Religion wears a mien

In Zamti's person so severely mild,

That the fierce Scythian rests upon his spear,

And wonders what he feels.—Such is the charm

Of heart-felt virtue; such is nature's force

That speaks abroad, and in rude northern hearts

Can stamp the image of an awful God.

From that source springs some hope:—Wretch that I am!

Hope idly flutters on my trembling tongue,

While melancholy brooding o'er her wrongs,

Lays waste the mind with horror and despair.

—What noise is that?—

MIRVAN.

Compose this storm of grief;

In ev'ry sound your fancy hears the Tartar—

Your husband this way bends—

MANDANE.

Celestial pow'rs!

What lab'ring sighs heave in his breast?—what terror

Rolls in the patriot's eye?—haste, Mirvan, hence;

Again look out; gather the flying news,

[125]  And let me know each circumstance of ruin.

                                         [Exit Mirvan.

Enter Zamti.

MANDANE.

Zamti!

ZAMTI.

Mandane!—

[Page 6]

MANDANE.

Ah! what hast thou seen?

What hast thou heard?—tell me,—has fate decreed

The doom of China!

ZAMTI.

China is no more;—

The eastern world is lost—this mighty empire

Falls with the universe beneath the stroke

Of savage force—falls from its tow'ring hopes;

For ever, ever fall'n!

MANDANE.

Yet why, ye pow'rs!

Why should a tyrant, train'd to lust and murder,

A lawless ravager from savage wilds,

Where chearful day ne'er dawns, but low'ring heav'n

For ever rolls a turbulence of clouds;

Why should a monster thus usurp the world,

And trample fair simplicity from ill

Beneath his ruffian feet?—

ZAMTI.

Far hence, Mandane,

Those happy days, alas! are fled, when peace

Here nurs'd her blooming olives, and shed round

Her fost'ring influence.—In vain the plan

Of sacred laws, by hoary elders taught,

Laws founded on the base of public weal,

[150]  Gave lessons to the world.—In vain Confucius

Unlock'd his radiant stores of moral truth;

In vain bright science, and each tender muse,

Beam'd ev'ry elegance on polish'd life—

Barbarian pow'r prevails.—Whate'er our sages taught,

Or genius could inspire, must fade away,

And each fair virtue wither at the blast

Of northern domination.

[Page 7]

MANDANE.

Fatal day!

More fatal e'en than that, which first beheld

This race accurs'd within these palace walls,

Since hope, that balm of wretched minds, is now

Irrevocably lost.—

ZAMTI.

Name not the day

Which saw this city sack'd—fresh stream my eyes,

Fresh bleeds my heart, whene'er the sad idea

Comes o'er my tortur'd mind.—Why, cruel pow'rs!

Why in that moment could not Zamti fall?

MANDANE.

Thy sanctity, the symbol of thy God,

Made ev'n the conqueror suspend his blow,

And murmur soft humanity.—High heav'n

Protected thee for its own great designs;

To save the royal child, the new-born babe,

From the dire slaughter of his ancient line.

ZAMTI.

Yes, my Mandane, in that hour of carnage,

[175]  For purposes yet in the womb of time,

I was reserv'd.—I was ordain'd to save

The infant boy; the dear, the precious charge,

The last of all my kings;—full twenty years

I've hid him from the world and from himself,

And now I swear—Kneel we together here,

While in this dreadful pause our souls renew

Their solemn purpose.—

                                         Both kneel.

                                         Thou all-gracious Being,

Whose tutelary care hath watch'd the fate

Of China's Orphan, who hast taught his steps

The paths of safety, still envelop him

In sev'nfold night, till your own hour is come;

Till your slow justice see the dread occasion

To rouse his soul, and bid him walk abroad

[Page 8]

Vicegerent of your pow'r;—and if thy servant,

Or this his soft associate, ere defeat

By any word or deed the great design,

Then strait may all your horrible displeasure

Be launch'd upon us from your red right arm,

And in one ruin dash us both together,

The blasted monuments of wrath:—

MANDANE.

That here

Mandane vows ne'er to betray his cause,

Be it enroll'd in the records of heav'n!

                                         Both rise.

ZAMTI.

[200]  And now my heart more lightly beats; methinks

With strength redoubled I can meet the shock

Of adverse fate.

MANDANE.

And lo! the trial comes—

For see where Etan mourns—See where the youth,

Unknowing of the storm that gathers o'er him,

Brings some new tale of woe.—

Enter Etan.

ETAN.

My honour'd father,

And you, my helpless mother,—ah! where now,

Illustrious wretched pair, where will ye fly?

Where will your miseries now find a shelter?

ZAMTI.

In virtue—I and this dear faithful woman,

We ask no more.—

MANDANE.

Ah! quickly, Etan, say

What means that pallid look?—what new event

Brings on the work of fate?—

[Page 9]

ZAMTI.

Say, does the tyrant

Return unglutted yet with blood?—

ETAN.

He does;

Ev'n now his triumph moves within the gates

In dread barbaric pomp:—the iron swarms

Of Hyperboreans troop along the streets,

Reeking from slaughter; while, from gazing crowds

Of their dire countrymen, an uproar wild

Of joy ferocious thro' th'astonish'd air

[225]  Howls like a northern tempest:—O'er the rest,

Proud in superior eminence of guilt,

The tyrant rides sublime.—Behind his car

The refuse of the sword, a captive train

Display their honest scars, and gnash their teeth

With rage and desperation.—

MANDANE.

Cruel fate!

ETAN.

With these a youth, distinguish'd from the rest,

Proceeds in sullen march.—Heroic fire

Glows in his cheek, and from his flashing eye

Beams amiable horror.—

MANDANE.

What of this youth?—

ZAMTI.

Be not alarm'd, Mandane—What of him?

ETAN.

On him all eyes were fix'd with eager gaze,

As if their spirits, struggling to come forth,

Would strain each visual nerve,—while thro' the crowd

A busy murmur ran—“If fame say right,

“Beneath that habit lurks a prince; the last

[Page 10]

“Of China's race.”—The rumour spreads abroad

From man to man; and all with loud acclaim

Denounce their vengeance on him.—

MANDANE.

Ha! what say'st thou, Etan?

Heav'ns how each black'ning hour in deeper horror

Comes charg'd with woe!

ZAMTI.

It cannot be.—Ye vain,

[250]  Ye groundless terrors hence.—

                                         Aside.

MANDANE.

My honour'd lord,

Those eyes upturn'd to heav'n, alas! in vain,

Declare your inward conflict.—

ZAMTI.

Lov'd Mandane,

I prithee leave me—but a moment leave me.—

Heed not the workings of a sickly fancy,

Wrought on by ev'ry popular report.

Thou know'st with Morat I convey'd the infant

Far as the eastern point of Corea's realm;

There where no human trace is seen, no sound

Assails the ear, save when the foaming surge

Breaks on the shelving beach, that there the youth

Might mock their busy search.—Then check thy fears—

Retire, my love, awhile; I'll come anon,—

And fortify thy soul with firm resolve,

Becoming Zamti's wife.—

MANDANE.

Yes, Zamti's wife

Shall never act unworthy of her lord.

Then hence I'll go, and satisfy each doubt

This youthful captive raises in my heart,

[Page 11]

Quick panting with its fears.—And O ye pow'rs!

Protect my son, my husband, and my king!

                                         [Exit Mandane.

Zamti and Etan.

ZAMTI.

Come hither, Etan—thou perceiv'st the toils

That now incircle me—

ETAN.

[275]  Alas! too well

I see th'impending storm.—But surely, sir,

Should this young captive prove the royal Orphan,

You'll never own th'important truth.—

ZAMTI.

Dream not, young man,

To stand secure, yet blooming into life,

While vengeance hovers o'er your father's head.

The stock once fall'n, each scyon must decay.

ETAN.

Then let me perish;—witness for me, heav'n,

Could Etan's fall appease the tyrant's wrath,

A willing victim he would yield his life,

And ask no greater boon of heav'n.

ZAMTI.

This zeal

So fervid in a stranger's cause—

ETAN.

A stranger! he!

My king a stranger!—Sir, you never meant it—

Perhaps you would explore the fiery seeds

Of Etan's temper, ever prompt to blaze

At honour's sacred name.—Perish the man,

Who, when his country calls him to defend

The rights of human kind, or bravely die,

[Page 12]

Who then to glory dead can shrink aghast,

And hold a council with his abject fears.

ZAMTI.

These tow'rings of the soul, alas! are vain.

I know the Tartar well—should I attempt

[300]  By any virtuous fraud to veil the truth,

His lion-rage again shall stalk abroad,

Again shall quaff the blood of innocence;

And for Zaphimri all the poor remains

Of China's matrons and her hoary sires,

Her blooming virgins, and her lisping babes,

Shall yield their throats to the fell murd'rer's knife,

And all be lost for ever—

ETAN.

Then at once

Proclaim him to the world; each honest hand

Will grasp a sword, and, 'midst the circling guards,

Reach the usurper's heart—or should they fail,

Should overwhelming bands obstruct the deed,

They'll greatly dare to die!—better to die

With falling liberty, than basely lead

An ignominious life.—Zaphimri lost,

Ne'er shall fair order dawn, but thro' the land

Slav'ry shall clank her chains, and violation,

Rapine, and murder riot at the will

Of lust and lawless pow'r.

ZAMTI.

Thou brave young man,

Indulge my fond embrace—thy lovely ardor

It glads me thus to see.—To ease at once

Thy gen'rous fears,—the prince Zaphimri's safe;

Safe in my guardian care—

ETAN.

[325]  This pris'ner, sir,

He does not then alarm you?—

[Page 13]

ZAMTI.

No! from thence

I've nought to fear.—

ETAN.

Oh! sir, inform your son

Where is the royal youth?

ZAMTI.

Seek not too soon

To know that truth—now I'll disclose the work,

The work of vengeance, which my lab'ring soul

Has long been fashioning.—Ev'n at this hour

Stupendous ruin hovers o'er the heads

Of this accursed race—

ETAN.

Ruin!

ZAMTI.

I'll tell thee—

When Timurkan led forth his savage bands,

Unpeopling this great city, I then seiz'd

The hour, to tamper with a chosen few,

Who have resolv'd, when the barbarians lie

Buried in sleep and wine, and hotly dream

Their havock o'er again,—then, then, my son,

In one collected blow to burst upon 'em;

Like their own northern clouds, whose midnight horror

Impending o'er the world, at length breaks forth

In the vaunt lightning's blaze, in storms and thunder

Thro' all the red'ning air, till frighted nature

[350]  Start from her couch, and waken to a scene

Of uproar and destruction.—

ETAN.

Oh! my Father,

The glorious enterprize!

[Page 14]

ZAMTI.

Mark me, young man.—

Seek thou my friends, Orasming and Zimventi.

In the dim holy cloisters of yon temple

Thou'lt find them musing—near Osmingti's tomb

I charge they all convene; and there do thou

Await my coming.—Bid them ne'er remit

Their high heroic ardor;—let them know,

Whate'er shall fall on this old mould'ring clay,

The tyrant never shall subdue my mind.

End of the First Act.

[Page 15]

ACT II.

Enter Zamti.

ZAMTI.

Dream on, deluded tyrant; yes, dream on

In blind security:—whene'er high heav'n

Means to destroy, it curses with illusion,

With error of the mind.—Yes, wreak thy fury

Upon this captive youth;—whoe'er he is,

If from his death this groaning empire rise,

Once more itself, resplendent, rich in arts

That humanize the world,—he pays a debt

Due to his King, his Country, and his God.

His father,—wheresoe'er he dwell,—in tears

Shall tell the glory on his boy deriv'd;

And ev'n his mother, 'midst her matron shrieks,

Shall bless the childbed pang that brought him forth

To this great lot, by fate to few allow'd!—

What would'st thou, Mirvan?—

Enter Mirvan.

MIRVAN.

Eagerly without,

A rev'rend stranger craves access to Zamti—

His head hoary with age, with galling tears

His eyes suffus'd; his ev'ry look impatience—

ZAMTI.

Give him admittance—

                                         [Exit Mirvan.

—How my spirits rush

[Page 16]

Tumultuous to my heart—what may this mean?

Lo! where he comes—

Enter Morat.

MORAT.

Zamti!—

ZAMTI.

[25]  Ha!—thro' the veil

Of age,—that face—that mien—Morat!

MORAT.

Oh! Zamti,

Let me once more embrace thee—

ZAMTI.

Good old man!

                                         They embrace.

But wherefore art thou here?—what of my boy?

MORAT.

Ah! what indeed?—Ev'n from the ocean's margin,

Parch'd with the sun, or chill'd with midnight damps,

O'er hills, and rocks, and dreary continents,

In vain I've follow'd—

ZAMTI.

Why didst let him forth?

MORAT.

Think not thy Morat urg'd him to the deed.

His valour was the cause; and soon as fame

Proclaim'd the prince alive, the mighty din

Of preparation through all Corea's realm

Alarm'd his breast—Indignant of controul

He burst his covert, and now, hapless youth—

ZAMTI.

Ah!—dead!—in battle fall'n!—

[Page 17]

MORAT.

Alas! ev'n now

He drags the conqu'ror's chain.—

ZAMTI.

Mandane then

May still embrace her son.—My boy may live,

To know the sweets of freedom, e'er he die.

MORAT.

Alas! the measure of your woes is full.

Unconscious of our frauds, the tyrant thinks

[50]  The prince his pris'ner in your son.—

ZAMTI.

Ah!—Morat!

MORAT.

Wild thro' the streets the foe calls out on Zamti.

Thee they pronounce the author of this fraud;

And on your Hamet threaten instant vengeance.

ZAMTI.

There was but this—but this, ye cruel pow'rs,

And this you've heap'd upon me.—Was it not

Enough to tear him from his mother's arms,

Doom'd for his prince to wander o'er the world?

—Alas! what needed more?—Fond foolish eyes,

Stop your unbidden gush—tear, tear me piecemeal—

—No, I will not complain—but whence on him

Could that suspicion glance?—

MORAT.

This very morn,

E'er yet the battle join'd, a faithful messenger,

Who thro' the friendly gloom of night had held

His darkling way, and pass'd the Tartar's camp,

Brought me advices from the Corean chief,—

That soon as Hamet join'd the warlike train,

His story he related.—Strait the gallant leader

[Page 18]

With open arms receiv'd him—knew him for thy son,

In secret knew him, nor reveal'd he aught

That touch'd his birth.—But still the busy voice

Of fame, encreasing as she goes, through all the ranks

Babbled abroad each circumstance.—By thee

[75]  How he was privately convey'd—Sent forth

A tender infant to be rear'd in solitude,

A stranger to himself!—The warriors saw

With what a graceful port he mov'd in arms,

An early hero!—deem'd him far above

The common lot of life—deem'd him Zaphimri,

And all with reverential awe beheld him.

This, this, my Zamti, reach'd the tyrant's ear,

And rises into horrid proof.—

ZAMTI.

If so,

Oh! what a sacrifice must now be made!

                                         Aside.

MORAT.

But when the secret shall be known—

ZAMTI.

Oh! Morat!

Does thy poor bleeding country still remain

Dear to thy heart?—Say, dost thou still revere

That holy pow'r above, Supreme of Beings,

Mistaken by the Bonzée, whom our fathers

Worshipp'd in happier days!—

MORAT.

He,—only he

For twenty years hath giv'n me strength in exile.

ZAMTI.

Then bending here, before his awful throne,

Swear what I now unfold, shall ever lie

In sacred silence wrapp'd.—

[Page 19]

MORAT.

I swear!—

ZAMTI.

Now mark me—

[100]  Morat—my son—

(turning aside.)

Oh! cruel, cruel task,

To conquer nature while the heart-strings break.—

MORAT.

Why heave those sighs?—and why that burst of grief?

ZAMTI.

My son—his guiltless blood—I cannot speak—

                                         Bursts into tears.

MORAT.

Ha!—Wilt thou shed his blood?—

ZAMTI.

Thou wretched father!—

                                         Half aside.

MORAT.

Oh! had you known the virtues of the youth;

His truth, his courage, his enlighten'd mind—

ZAMTI.

I prithee urge no more—here nature's voice

Speaks in such pleadings:—Such reproaches, Morat,

—Here in my very heart—gives woundings here,

Thou can'st not know—and only parents feel—

MORAT.

And wilt thou, cruel in thy tears—

ZAMTI.

Nay cease,

In pity to a father cease—Think, Morat,

Think of Zaphimri—

MORAT.

Ah! how fares the prince?

[Page 20]

ZAMTI.

He fares, my Morat, like a God on earth,

Unknowing his celestial origin:

Yet quick, intense, and bursting into action;

His great heart labr'ing with he knows not what

Prodigious deeds!—Deeds, which e'er long shall rouze,

Astonish, and alarm the world.—

MORAT.

What mean

Those mystic sounds?

ZAMTI.

[125]  Revenge, conquest, and freedom!—

MORAT.

Conquest and freedom!

ZAMTI.

Ay!—Conquest and freedom!

The midnight hour shall call a chosen band

Of hidden patriots forth; who, when the foe

Sinks down in drunken revelry, shall pour

The gather'd rage of twenty years upon him,

And vindicate the eastern world.—

MORAT.

Oh! Zamti,

The news revives my soul.—

ZAMTI.

And can'st thou think

To save one vulgar life, that Zamti now

Will marr the vast design?—No;—let him bleed,

Let my boy bleed:—In such a cause as this

I can resign my son—with tears of joy

Resign him,—and one complicated pang

Shall wrench him from my heart.—

The conqu'ror comes!

                                         Warlike music within.

[Page 21]

This is no hour for parlying—Morat, hence,

And leave me to my fix'd resolve.—

MORAT.

Yet think,

Think of some means to save your Hamet.—

ZAMTI.

Oh!

It cannot be—the soul of Timurkan

Is bold and stirring—when occasion calls,

[150]  He springs aloft, like an expanding fire,

And marks his way with ruin.—Now he knows

Zaphimri lives, his fear will make him daring

Beyond his former crimes—for joy and riot

Which this day's triumph brings, remorseless rage

And massacre succeed—and all our hopes

Are blasted, for an unimportant boy.

                                         A second flourish.

MORAT.

That nearer sound proclaims his dread approach—

Yet once more, Zamti, think—

ZAMTI.

No more—I'll send

Those shall conduct thee where Orasming lives—

There dwell, unseen of all.—But, Morat, first

Seek my Mandane.—Heav'ns!—how shall I bear

Her strong impetuosity of grief,

When she shall know my fatal purpose?—Thou

Prepare her tender spirit; sooth her mind,

And save, oh! save me from that dreadful conflict.

                                         [Exeunt.

[Page 22]

Two large Folding-gates in the Back-scene are burst open by the Tartars, and then enter Timurkan, with his Train.

TIMURKAN.

Hail to this regal dome, this glitt'ring palace!

Where this inventive race have lavish'd all

Their elegance;—ye gay apartments, hail!

Beneath your storied roof, where mimic life

Glows the eye, and at the painter's touch

A new creation lives along the walls;

Once more receive a conqueror, arriv'd

From rougher scenes, where stern rebellion dar'd

[175]  Draw forth his phalanx; till this warlike arm

Hurl'd desolation on his falling ranks,

And now the monster, in yon field of death,

Lies overwhelm'd in ruin.—

OCTAR.

There he fell,

No more to stalk thy realm; the eastern world

From this auspicious day, beneath your feet

Lies bound in adamantine chains.—

TIMURKAN.

Thus Octar,

Shall Timurkan display his conqu'ring banners,

From high Samarcand's walls, to where the Tanais

Devolves his icy tribute to the sea.—

OCTAR.

But first this captive prince.—

TIMURKAN.

Yes, Octar, first

Zaphimri gluts my rage—bring him before us—first

We'll crush the seeds of dark conspiracy—

For Zamti—he, that false insidious slave,

Shall dearly pay his treasons.—

[Page 23]

OCTAR.

Zamti's crimes

'Twere best to leave unpunish'd:—vers'd in wiles

Of sly hypocrisy, he wins the love

Of the deluded multitude.—'Twould seem,

Should we inflict that death his frauds deserve,

As if we meant destruction to their faith:

When a whole people's minds are once inflam'd

[200]  For their religious rights, their fury burns

With rage more dreadful, as the source is holy.—

TIMURKAN.

Octar, thou reason'st right:—henceforth my art

To make this stubborn race receive my yoke,

Shall be by yielding to their softer manners,

Their vesture, laws, and customs: thus to blend

And make the whole one undistinguish'd people.

The boy comes forth in sullen mood—what passions

Swell in his breast in vain!—

Enter Hamet in chains.

TIMURKAN.

Thou art the youth,

Who mow'd our battle down, and flesh'd your sword

In many a slaughter'd Tartar.—

HAMET.

True;—I am.—

TIMURKAN.

Too well I mark'd thy rage, and saw thee hew

A wasteful passage thro' th'embattled plain.

HAMET.

Then be thou witness for me, in that hour

I never shunn'd your thickest war;—and if

In yonder field, where my poor countrymen

In mangled heaps lie many a rood extended,

Kind fare had doom'd me to a noble fall,

With this right arm I earn'd it.—

[Page 24]

TIMURKAN.

Say, what motive

Unsheath'd thy rebel blade, and bad thee seek

These wars?—

HAMET.

The love of honourable deeds;

[225]  The groans of bleeding China, and the hate

Of tyrants.

TIMURKAN.

Ha!—take heed, rash youth—I see

This lesson has been taught thee.—Octar, haste,

Seek me the mandarine—let him forthwith

Attend me here.

(Exit Octar.)

—Now tremble at my words!

Thy motive to these wars is known—thou art

Zaphimri.—

HAMET.

I Zaphimri!

TIMURKAN.

False one, yes;

Thou art Zaphimri—thou!—whom treach'rous guile

Stole from my rage, and sent to distant wilds,

Till years and horrid counsel should mature thee

For war and wild commotion.—

HAMET.

I the prince!

The last of China's race! nay mock not majesty,

Nor with the borrow'd robes of sacred kings

Dress up a wretch like me—were I Zaphimri,

Think'st thou thy trembling eye could bear the shock

Of a much injur'd king?—could'st thou sustain it?

Say, could'st thou bear to view a royal orphan,

Whose father, mother, brothers, sisters, all,

Thy murd'rous arm hath long since laid in dust?

Whose native crown on thy ignoble brow

Thou dar'st dishonour?—whose wide wasted country

[250]  Thy arms have made a wilderness?—

[Page 25]

TIMURKAN.

I see

Thou hast been tutor'd in thy lone retreat

By some sententious pedant.—Soon these vain,

These turgid maxims shall be all subdued

By thy approaching death.—

HAMET.

Let death come on;

Guilt, guilt alone shrinks back appall'd—the brave

And honest still defy his dart; the wise

Calmly can eye his frown;—and misery

Invokes his friendly aid to end her woes.—

TIMURKAN.

Thy woes, presumptuous youth, with all my fears,

Shall soon lie buried.—

Enter Zamti.

TIMURKAN.

Now, pious false one, say, who is that youth?

ZAMTI.

His air, his features, and his honest mien

Proclaim all fair within.—But, mighty sir,

I know him not.—

TIMURKAN.

Take heed, old man; nor dare,

As thou do'st dread my pow'r, to practice guile

Beneath a mask of sacerdotal perfidy:

Priestcraft, I think, calls it a pious fraud.

ZAMTI.

Priestcraft and sacerdotal perfidy

To me are yet unknown.—Religion's garb

Here never serves to consecrate a crime;

We have not yet, thank heav'n, so far imbib'd

[275]  The vices of the north.—

[Page 26]

TIMURKAN.

Thou vile impostor!

Avow Zaphimri, whom thy treach'rous arts

Conceal'd from justice; or else desolation

Again shall ravage this devoted land.

ZAMTI,

Alas! full well thou know'st, that arm already

Hath shed all royal blood.—

TIMURKAN.

Traitor, 'tis false;—

By thee, vile slave, I have been wrought to think

The hated race destroy'd—thy artful tale

Abus'd my cred'lous ear.—But know, at length

Some captive slaves, by my command impal'd,

Have own'd the horrid truth;—have own'd they fought

To seat Zaphimri on the throne of China.

Hear me, thou froward boy;—dar'st thou be honest,

And answer who thou art?—

HAMET.

Dare I be honest?—

I dare;—a mind grown up in native honour

Dares not be otherwise—then if thy troops

Ask from the lightning of whose blade they fled,

Tell 'em 'twas Hamet's.—

ZAMTI.

'Tis—it is my son—

My boy,—my Hamet—

                                         Aside.

TIMURKAN.

Where was your abode?—

HAMET.

Far hence remote, in Corea's happy realm—

[300]  Where the first beams of day with orient blushes

Tinge the salt wave—there on the sea-beat shore

[Page 27]

A cavern'd rock yielded a lone retreat

To virtuous Morat.—

ZAMTI.

Oh! ill-fated youth!

                                         Aside.

HAMET.

The pious hermit in that moss-grown dwelling

Found an asylum from heart-piercing woes,

From slav'ry, and that restless din of arms

With which thy fell ambition shook the world.

There too the sage nurtur'd my greener years;

With him and contemplation have I walk'd

The paths of wisdom; what the great Confucius

Of moral beauty taught,—whate'er the wise,

Still wooing knowlege in her secret haunts,

Disclos'd of nature to the sons of men,

My wond'ring mind has heard—but above all

The hermit taught me the most useful science,

That noble science, to be Brave and Good.—

ZAMTI.

Oh! lovely youth—at ev'ry word he utters,

A soft effusion mix'd of grief and joy

Flows o'er my heart.

                                         Aside.

TIMURKAN.

Who, said he, was your father?

HAMET.

My birth, the pious sage,—I know not why—

Still wrapp'd in silence; and when urg'd to tell,

He only answer'd that a time might come,

[325]  I should not blush to know my father.—

TIMURKAN.

Now,

With truth declare, hast thou ne'er heard of Zamti?

HAMET.

Of Zamti?—oft enraptur'd with his name

[Page 28]

My heart has glow'd within me, as I heard

The praises of the godlike man.—

TIMURKAN.

Thou slave,

                                         To Zamti.

Each circumstance arraigns thy guilt.—

HAMET.

Oh! heav'ns!

Can that be Zamti?

TIMURKAN.

Yes, that is the traitor—

HAMET.

Let me adore his venerable form,

Thus on my knees adore—

ZAMTI.

I cannot look upon him,

Lest tenderness dissolve my feeble pow'rs,

And wrest my purpose from me—

                                         Aside.

TIMURKAN.

Hence, vain boy!

Thou specious traitor, thou false hoary moralist!

                                         To Zamti.

Confusion has o'erta'en thy subtle frauds.

To make my crown's assurance firm, that none

Hereafter shall aspire to wrench it from me,

Now own your fancied king; or, by yon heav'n,

To make our vengeance sure, thro' all the east

Each youth shall die, and carnage thin mankind,

Till in the gen'ral wreck your boasted Orphan

[350]  Shall undistinguish'd fall.—Thou know'st my word

Is fate.—Octar, draw near—when treason lurks

Each moment's big with danger—thou observe

These my commands—

                                         Talks apart to Octar.

[Page 29]

ZAMTI.

Now virtuous cruelty repress my tears.

—Cease your soft conflict, nature.—Hear me, Tartar.—

That youth—his air—his ev'ry look, unmans me quite.—

TIMURKAN.

Wilt thou begin, dissembler?

ZAMTI.

Down, down, down—

It must be so, or all is lost—That youth,—

I've dealt by him—as ev'ry king could wish

In a like case his faithful subjects would.

TIMURKAN.

Ha!—dost thou own it?—Triumph, Timurkan,

And in Zaphimri's grave lie hush'd my fears.

Brave Octar, let the victim strait be led

To yonder sacred fane; there, in the view

Of my rejoicing Tartars, the declining sun

Shall see him offer'd to our living Lama,

For this day's conquest:—thence a golden train

Of radiant years, shall mark my future sway.

                                         [Exit.

ZAMTI.

Flow, flow my tears, and ease this aching breast.

HAMET.

Nay, do not weep for me, thou good old man.

If it will close the wounds of bleeding China,

That a poor wretch like me must yield his life,

I give it freely.—If I am a king,

[375]  Tho' sure it cannot be, what greater blessing

Can a young prince enjoy, than to diffuse,

By one great act, that happiness on millions,

For which his life should be a round of care?

Come, lead me to my fate.—

                                         [Exit with Octar, &c.

[Page 30]

ZAMTI.

Hold, hold my heart!

—My gallant, gen'rous youth!—Mandane's air,

His mother's dear resemblance rives my soul.

MANDANE

within.

Oh! let me fly, and find the barb'rous man—

Where—where is Zamti?—

ZAMTI.

Ha!—'tis Mandane—

Wild as the winds, the mother all alive

In ev'ry heartstring, the forlorn one comes

To claim her boy.—

Enter Mandane.

MANDANE.

And can it then be true?

Is human nature exil'd from thy breast?

Art thou, indeed, so barb'rous?—

ZAMTI.

Lov'd Mandane,

Fix not your scorpions here—a bearded shaft

Already drinks my spirits up.—

MANDANE.

I've seen

The trusty Morat—Oh! I've heard it all.—

He would have shunn'd my steps; but what can 'scape

The eye of tenderness like mine?—

ZAMTI.

By heav'n

[400]  I cannot speak to thee.—

MANDANE.

Think'st thou those tears,

Those false, those cruel tears, will choak the voice

[Page 31]

Of a fond mother's love, now stung to madness?

Oh! I will rend the air with lamentations,

Root up this hair, and beat this throbbing breast,

Turn all connubial joys to bitterness,

To fell despair, to anguish and remorse,

Unless my son—

ZAMTI.

Thou ever faithful woman,

Oh! leave me to my woes.—

MANDANE.

Give me my child,

Thou worse than Tartar, give me back my son;

Oh! give him to a mother's eager arms,

And let me strain him to my heart.—

ZAMTI.

Heav'n knows

How dear my boy is here.—But our first duty

Now claims attention—to our country's love,

All other tender fondnesses must yeild;

—I was a subject e'er I was a father.

MANDANE.

You were a savage bred in Scythian wilds,

And humanizing pity never reach'd

Your heart.—Was it for this—oh! thou unkind one,

Was it for this—oh! thou inhuman father,

You woo'd me to your nuptial bed?—So long

[425]  Have I then clasp'd thee in these circling arms,

And made this breast your pillow?—Cruel, say,

Are these your vows?—are these your fond endearments?

Nay, look upon me—if this wasted form,

These faded eyes have turn'd your heart against me,

With grief for you I wither'd in my bloom.

ZAMTI.

Why wilt thou pierce my heart?

[Page 32]

MANDANE.

Alas! my son,

Have I then bore thee in these matron arms,

To see thee bleed?—Thus dost thou then return?

This could your mother hope, when first she sent

Her infant exile to a distant clime?

Ah! could I think thy early love of fame,

Would urge thee to this peril?—thus to fall,

By a stern father's will—by thee to die!—

From thee, inhuman, to receive his doom!—

—Murder'd by thee!—Yet hear me, Zamti, hear me—

Thus on my knees—I threaten now no more—

'Tis nature's voice that pleads; nature alarm'd,

Quick, trembling, wild, touch'd to her inmost feeling,

When force would tear her tender young ones from her.

ZAMTI.

Nay, seek not with enfeebling fond ideas

To swell the flood of grief—it is in vain—

He must submit to fate.—

MANDANE.

Barbarian! no—

                                         She rises hastily.

[450]  He shall not die—rather—I prithee, Zamti,

Urge not a grief-distracted woman:—Tremble

At the wild fury of a mother's love.

ZAMTI.

I tremble rather at a breach of oaths.

But thou break thine.—Bathe your perfidious hands

In this life blood.—Betray the righteous cause

Of all our sacred kings.

MANDANE.

Our kings!—our kings!

What are the scepter'd rulers of the world?—

Form'd of one common clay, are they not all

Doom'd with each subject, with the meanest slave,

[Page 33]

To drink the cup of human woe?—alike

All levell'd by affliction?—Sacred kings!

'Tis human policy sets up their claim.—

Mine is a mother's cause—mine is the cause

Of husband, wife, and child;—those tend'rest ties!

Superior to your right divine of kings!—

ZAMTI.

Then go, Mandane—thou once faithful woman,

Dear to this heart in vain;—go, and forget

Those virtuous lessons, which I oft have taught thee,

In fond credulity, while on each word

You hung enamour'd.—Go, to Timurkan

Reveal the awful truth.—Be thou spectatress

Of murder'd majesty.—Embrace your son,

And let him lead in shame and servitude

[475]  A life ignobly bought.—Then let those eyes,

Those faded eyes, which grief for me hath dimm'd,

With guilty joy reanimate their lustre,

To brighten slavery, and beam their fires

On the fell Scythian murderer.

MANDANE.

And is it thus,

Thus is Mandane known?—My soul disdains

The vile imputed guilt.—No—never—never—

Still am I true to fame. Come lead me hence,

Where I may lay down life to save Zaphimri,

—But save my Hamet too.—Then, then you'll find

A heart beats here, as warm and great as thine.

ZAMTI.

Then make with me one strong, one glorious effort;

And rank with those, who, from the first of time,

In fame's eternal archives stand rever'd,

For conqu'ring all the dearest ties of nature,

To serve the gen'ral weal.—

[Page 34]

MANDANE.

That savage virtue

Loses with me its horrid charms.—I've sworn

To save my king.—But should a mother turn

A dire assassin—oh! I cannot bear

The piercing thought.—Distraction, quick distraction

Will seize my brain.—See there—My child, my child,—

By guards surrounded, a devoted victim.—

Barbarian hold!—Ah! see, he dies! he dies!—

                                         She faints into Zamti's arms.

ZAMTI.

[500]  Where is Arsace?—Fond maternal love

Shakes her weak frame—

(Enter Arsace.)

Quickly, Arsace, help

This ever-tender creature.—Wand'ring life

Rekindles in her cheek.—Soft, lead her off

To where the fanning breeze in yonder bow'r,

May woo her spirits back.—Propitious heav'n!

Pity the woundings of a father's heart;

Pity my strugglings with this best of women;

Support our virtue:—kindle in our souls

A ray of your divine enthusiasm;

Such as inflames the patriot's breast, and lifts

Th'impassion'd mind to that sublime of virtue,

That even on the rack it feels the good,

Which in a single hour it works for millions,

And leaves the legacy to after times.

                                         [Exit, leading off Mandane.

End of the Second Act.

[Page 35]

ACT III.

SCENE A Temple. Several tombs up and down the stage.

Enter

Morat.

This is the place—these the long winding isles,

The solemn arches, whose religious awe

Attunes the mind to melancholy musing,

Such as befits free men reduc'd to slaves.—

Here Zamti meets his friends—amid these tombs,

Where lie the sacred manes of our kings,

They pour their orisons—hold converse here

With the illustrious shades of murder'd heroes,

And meditate a great revenge—

(a groan is heard)

a groan!

The burst of anguish from some care-worn wretch

That sorrows o'er his country—ha! 'tis Zamti!

Zamti comes out of a tomb.

ZAMTI.

Who's he, that seeks these mansions of the dead?

MORAT.

The friend of Zamti and of China.—

ZAMTI.

Morat!

Come to my arms, thou good, thou best of men—

I have been weeping o'er the sacred reliques

[Page 36]

Of a dear murder'd king—where are our friends?

Hast seen Orasming?

MORAT.

Thro' these vaults of death

Lonely he wanders,—plung'd in deep despair.—

ZAMTI.

Hast thou not told him?—hast thou nought reveal'd

Touching Zaphimri?

MORAT.

There I wait thy will—

ZAMTI.

Oh! thou art ever faithful—on thy lips

[25]  Sits pensive silence, with her hallow'd finger

Guarding the pure recesses of thy mind.—

But, lo! they come.—

Enter Orasming, Zimventi, and others.

ZAMTI.

Droop ye, my gallant friends?

ORASMING.

Oh! Zamti, all is lost—Our dreams of liberty

Are vanish'd into air.—Nought now avails

Integrity of life.—Ev'n heav'n, combin'd

With lawless might, abandons us and virtue—

ZAMTI.

Can your great souls thus shrink within ye? thus

From heroes will ye dwindle into slaves?

ORASMING.

Oh! could you give us back Zaphimri!—then

Danger would smile, and lose its face of horror.

ZAMTI.

What,—would his presence fire ye!

[Page 37]

ORASMING.

'Twould by heav'n!

ZIMVENTI.

This night should free us from the Tartar's yoke.

ZAMTI.

Then mark the care of the all-gracious Gods!

This youthful captive, whom in chains they hold,

Is not Zaphimri.—

ORASMING, ZIMVENTI.

Not Zaphimri!

ZAMTI.

No!

Unconscious of himself, and to the world unknown,

He walks at large among us—

ORASMING.

Heav'nly pow'rs!

ZAMTI.

This night, my friends, this very night to rise

Refulgent from a blow, that frees us all,—

[50]  From the usurper's fate!—the first of men,

Deliv'rer of his country!

ORASMING.

Mighty Gods!

Can this be possible?—

ZAMTI.

It is most true—

I'll bring him to ye strait—

(calling to Etan within the tomb)

what ho!—come forth—

You seem transfix'd with wonder—oh! my friends,

Watch all the motions of your rising spirit,

Direct your ardor, when anon ye hear

What fate, long pregnant with the vast event,

Is lab'ring into birth.—

[Page 38]

Etan comes out of the tomb.

ETAN.

Each step I move

A deeper horror sits on all the tombs;

Each shrine,—each altar seems to shake; as if

Conscious of some important crisis.—

ZAMTI.

Yes;

A crisis great indeed, is now at hand!—

Heav'n holds its golden balance forth, and weighs

Zaphimri's and the Tartar's destiny,

While hov'ring angels tremble round the beam.

Hast thou beheld that picture?

ETAN.

Fix'd attention

Hath paus'd on ev'ry part; yet still to me

It shadows forth the forms of things unknown;—

All imag'ry obscure, and wrapp'd in darkness.

ZAMTI.

[75]  That darkness my informing breath shall clear,

As morn dispels the night. Lo! here display'd

This mighty kingdom's fall.—

ETAN.

Alas! my father,

At sight of these sad colourings of woe,

Our tears will mix with honest indignation.

ZAMTI.

Nay, but survey it closer—see that child,

That royal infant, the last sacred relict

Of China's ancient line—see where a mandarine

Conveys the babe to his wife's fost'ring breast,

There to be nourish'd in an humble state;

While their own son is sent to climes remote;

That, should the dire usurper e'er suspect

[Page 39]

The prince alive, he in his stead might bleed,

And mock the murd'rer's rage.—

ETAN.

Amazement thrills

Thro' all my frame, and my mind, big with wonder,

Feels ev'ry pow'r suspended.—

ZAMTI.

Rather say

That strong imagination burns within thee.—

Do'st thou not feel a more than common ardor?—

ETAN.

By heav'n my soul dilates with some new impulse;

Some strange inspir'd emotion—would the hour

Of fate were come—this night my dagger's hilt

I'll bury in the tyrant's heart.—

ZAMTI.

[100]  Wilt thou?

ETAN.

By all the mighty dead, that round us lie,

By all who this day groan in chains, I will.

ZAMTI.

And when thou dost—then tell him 'tis the prince

That strikes.—

ETAN.

The prince's wrongs shall nerve my arm

With tenfold rage.

ZAMTI.

Nay, but the prince himself!

ETAN.

What says my father?—

ZAMTI.

Thou art China's Orphan;

The last of all our kings—no longer Etan,

But now Zaphimri!

[Page 40]

ZAPHIMRI.

Ha!

ORASMING.

O wond'rous hand

Of heav'n!

ZAPHIMRI.

A crow'd of circumstances rise—

Thy frequent hints obscure—thy pious care

To train my youth to greatness.—Lend your aid

To my astonish'd pow'rs, that feebly bear

This unexpected shock of royalty.

ZAMTI.

Thou noble youth, now put forth all your strength,

And let heav'n's vengeance brace each sinew.—

ZAPHIMRI.

Vengeance!—

That word has shot its light'ning thro' my soul.—

But tell me, Zamti—still 'tis wonder all—

[125]  Am I indeed the Royal Orphan?—

ZAMTI.

Thou;—

Thou art the king, whom as my humble son,

I've nurtur'd in humanity and virtue.

Thy foes could never think to find thee here,

Ev'n in the lion's den; and therefore here

I've fix'd thy safe asylum, while my son

Hath dragg'd his life in exile.—Oh! my friends,

Morat will tell ye all,—each circumstance—

Mean time—there is your king!—

                                         All kneel to him.

ORASMING, ZIMVENTI.

Long live the Father of the eastern world!

ZAMTI.

Sole governor of earth!—

[Page 41]

ZAPHIMRI.

All-ruling pow'rs!—

Is then a great revenge for all the wrongs

Of bleeding China; are the fame and fate

Of all posterity included here

Within my bosom?—

                                         They all rise.

ZAMTI.

Yes; they are; the shades

Of your great ancestors now rise before thee,

Heroes and demi-gods!—Aloud they call

For the fell Tartar's blood—.

ZAPHIMRI.

Oh! Zamti; all

That can alarm the pow'rs of man, now stirs

In this expanding breast.—

ZAMTI.

Anon to burst

[150]  With hideous ruin on the foe.—My gallant heroes,

Are our men station'd at their posts?

ORASMING.

They are.—

ZAMTI.

Is ev'ry gate secur'd?

ORASMING.

All safe.—

ZAMTI.

The signal fix'd?—

ORASMING.

It is:—Will Mirvan join us?

ZAMTI.

Doubt him not.—

In bitterness of soul he counts his wrongs,

And pants for vengeance—would have join'd us here,

[Page 42]

But, favour'd as he is, his post requires him

About the Tartar's person.—The assault begun,

He'll turn his arms upon th'astonish'd foe,

And add new horrors to the wild commotion.

ZAPHIMRI.

Now, bloody spoiler, now thy hour draws nigh,

And e'er the dawn thy guilty reign shall end.

ZAMTI.

How my heart burns within me!—Oh! my friends,

Call now to mind the scene of desolation,

Which Timurkan, in one accursed hour,

Heap'd on this groaning land.—Ev'n now I see

The savage bands, o'er reeking hills of dead,

Forcing their rapid way.—I see them urge

With rage unhallow'd to this sacred temple,

Where good Osmingti, with his queen and children,

Fatigu'd the Gods averse.—See where Arphisa,

[175]  Rending the air with agonizing shrieks,

Tears her dishevell'd hair: Then, with a look

Fix'd on her babes, grief choaks its passage up,

And all the feelings of a mother's breast

Throbbing in one mix'd pang, breathless she faints

Within her husband's arms.—Adown his cheek,

In copious streams fast flow'd the manly sorrow;

While clust'ring round his knees his little offspring,

In tears all-eloquent, with arms outstretch'd,

Sue for parental aid.—

ZAPHIMRI.

Go on—the tale

Will fit me for a scene of horror.—

ZAMTI.

Oh! my prince,

The charge, which your great father gave me, still

Sounds in my ear.—E'er yet the foe burst in,

“Zamti,” said he—Ah! that imploring eye!—

[Page 43]

That agonizing look!—

“Preserve my little boy, my cradled infant—

“Shield him from ruffians—Train his youth to virtue:—

“Virtue will rouze him to a great revenge;

“Or failing—Virtue will still make him happy.”

He could no more—the cruel spoiler seiz'd him,

And dragg'd my king—my ever honour'd king,—

The father of his people,—basely dragg'd him

By his white rev'rend locks, from yonder altar,

[200]  Here,—on the blood-stain'd pavement; while the queen,

And her dear fondlings, in one mangled heap,

Died in each other's arms.—

ZAPHIMRI.

Revenge! Revenge!

With more than lion's nerve I'll spring upon him,

And at one blow relieve the groaning world.

Let us this moment carry sword and fire

To yon devoted walls, and whelm him down

In ruin and dismay.—

ZAMTI.

Zaphimri no.—

By rashness you may marr a noble cause.

To you, my friends, I render up my charge—

To you I give your king.—Farewell, my sov'reign.—

ZAPHIMRI.

Thou good, thou godlike man—a thousand feelings

Of warmest friendship—all the tendencies

Of heart-felt gratitude are struggling here,

And fain would speak to thee, my more than father.

—Farewel;—sure we shall meet again.—

ZAMTI.

We shall—

ZAPHIMRI.

Farewell—Zamti, farewell.

(Embraces him)

Orasming, now

[Page 44]

The noblest duty calls us.—Now remember

We are the men, whom from all human kind

Our fate hath now selected, to come forth

Asserters of the public weal;—to drench our swords

In the oppressor's heart;—to do a deed

[225]  Which heav'n, intent on its own holy work,

Shall pause with pleasure to behold.—

                                         [Exit, with conspirators.

ZAMTI.

May the Most High

Pour down his blessings on him; and anon,

In the dead waste of night, when awful justice

Walks with her crimson steel o'er slaughter'd heaps

Of groaning Tartars, may he then direct

His youthful footsteps thro' the paths of peril;

Oh may he guide the horrors of the storm,

An Angel of your wrath, to point your vengeance

On ev'ry guilty head.—Then,—then 'twill be enough,

When you have broken the oppressor's rod,

Your reign will then be manifest—Mankind will see

That truth and goodness still obtain your care—

                                         A dead march.

What mean those deathful sounds?—Again!—They lead

My boy to slaughter—Oh! look down, ye heavens!

Look down propitious!—Teach me to subdue

That nature which ye gave.—

                                         [Exit.

A dead march. Enter Hamet, Octar, guards, &c.

OCTAR.

Here let the victim fall, and with his blood

Wash his forefather's tomb.—Here ends the hated race.—

The eastern world thro' all her wide domain,

[Page 45]

Shall then submissive feel the Scythian yoke,

And yield to Timurkan.—

HAMET.

Standing by the tomb.

Where is the tyrant?—I would have him see,

With envy see, th'unconquer'd pow'r of virtue;

[250]  How it can calmly bleed, smile on his racks,

And with strong pinion soar above his pow'r,

To regions of perennial day.—

OCTAR.

The father

Of the whole eastern world shall mark thee well,

When at to-morrow's dawn thy breathless corse

Is born thro' all our streets for public view.

It now befits thee to prepare for death.

HAMET.

I am prepar'd.—I have no lust or rapine,

No murders to repent of.—Undismay'd

I can behold all-judging heav'n, whose hand

Still compassing its wond'rous ends, by means

Inextricable to all mortal clue,

Hath now inclos'd me in its awful maze.

Since 'tis by your decree that thus beset

Th'inexorable angel hovers o'er me,

Be your great bidding done.—

OCTAR.

The sabre's edge

Thirsts for his blood—then let its light'ning fall

On his aspiring head.—

                                         Guards seize Hamet.

MANDANE,

within.

Off,—set me free.—Inhuman, barb'rous ruffians.—

OCTAR.

What means that woman with dishevell'd hair,

And wild extravagance of woe?—

[Page 46]

MANDANE.

My griefs

Scorn all restraint—I must—I will have way.—

                                         She enters, and throws herself on her knees.

[275]  Me,—me, on me convert your rage—plunge deep,

Deep in this bosom your abhorred steel,

But spare his precious life.—

OCTAR.

Hence, quickly bear

This wild, this frantic woman.—

MANDANE.

Never, never—

You shall not force me hence. Here will I cling

Fast to the earth, and rivet here my hands,

In all the fury of the last despair.

He is my child,—my dear, dear son.—

OCTAR.

How, woman!

Saidst thou your son?—

MANDANE.

Yes, Octar, yes;—my son,

My boy,—my Hamet

(she rises and embraces him.)

Let my frantic love

Fly all unbounded to him—oh! my child—my child!—

OCTAR.

Suspend the stroke, ye ministers of death,

Till Timurkan hear of this new event.

Mean time, thou Mirvan, speed in quest of Zamti,

And let him answer here this wond'rous tale.

                                         [Exit.

MIRVAN.

The time demands his presence; or despair

May wring each secret from her tender breast.

                                         Aside.

And then our glorious, fancied pile of freedom

At one dire stroke, shall tumble into nought.

                                         [Exit.

[Page 47]

MANDANE.

Why did'st thou dare return?—ah! rather why

Did'st thou so long defer with ev'ry grace,

[300]  And ev'ry growing virtue, thus to raise

Your mother's dear delight to rapture?

HAMET.

Lost

In the deep mists of darkling ignorance,

To me my birth's unknown—but sure that look,

Those tears, those shrieks, that animated grief

Defying danger, all declare th'effect

Of nature's strugglings in a parent's heart.

Then let me pay my filial duty here,

Kneel to her native dignity, and pour

In tears of joy the transport of a son.—

MANDANE.

Thou art, thou art my son—thy father's face,

His ev'ry feature, blooming in his boy.

Oh! tell me, tell me all; how hast thou liv'd

With faithful Morat?—how did he support

In dreary solitude thy tender years?—

How train thy growing mind?—oh! quickly tell me,

Oh! tell me all, and charm me with thy tongue.

HAMET.

Mysterious pow'rs! have I then liv'd to this,

In th'hour of peril thus to find a parent,

In virtue firm, majestic in distress,

At length to feel unutterable bliss

In her dear circling arms—

                                         They embrace.

Enter Timurkan, Octar, &c.

TIMURKAN.

Where is this wild

Outrageous woman, who with frantic grief

[Page 48]

[325]  Suspends my dread command—tear 'em asunder,—

Send her to some dark cell to rave and shriek

And dwell with madness—and let instant death

Leave that rash youth a headless trunk before me.

MANDANE.

Now by the ever-burning lamps that light

Our holy shrines, by great Confucius' altar,

By the prime source of life, and light, and being,

That is my child, the blossom of my joys—

Send for his cruel father,—he—'tis he

Intends a fraud—he, for a stranger's life,

Would yield his offspring to the cruel ax,

And rend a wretched mother's brain with madness.

Enter

Zamti.

Sure the sad accents of Mandane's voice

Struck on my frighted sense.—

TIMURKAN.

Once more, thou slave!—

Who is that stubborn youth?

ZAMTI.

Alas! what needs

This iteration of my griefs?

MANDANE.

Oh! horror!—horror!

Thou marble-hearted father!—'tis your child,

And would'st thou see him bleed?—

ZAMTI.

On him!—on him

Let fall your rage, and ease my soul at once

Of all its fears.—

MANDANE.

Oh! my devoted child!

                                         She faints.

[Page 49]

HAMET.

[350]  Support her, heav'n! support her tender frame—

Now, tyrant, now I beg to live—

(kneels)

lo! here

I plead for life;—not for the wretched boon

To breathe the air, which thy ambition taints;—

But oh! to ease a mother's pains;—for her,

For that dear object,—oh! let me live for her.

TIMURKAN.

Now by the conquests this good sword has won,

In her wild vehemence of grief I hear

The genuine voice of nature.

MANDANE,

recovering.

Ah!—where is he?

He is my son—my child—and not Zaphimri—

Oh! let me clasp thee to my heart—thy hard,

Thy cruel father shall not tear thee from me.—

TIMURKAN.

Hear me, thou frantic mourner, dry those tears—

Perhaps you still may save this darling son.—

MANDANE.

Ah! quickly name the means.—

TIMURKAN.

Give up your king,

Your phantom of a king, to sate my vengeance.

HAMET.

Oh! my much honour'd mother, never hear

The base, the dire proposal—let me rather

Exhaust my life-blood at each gushing vein.

Mandane then,—then you may well rejoice

To find your child,—then you may truly know

The best delight a mother's heart can prove,

When her son dies with glory.—

[Page 50]

TIMURKAN.

[375]  Curses blast

The stripling's pride—

                                         Talks apart with Octar.

ZAMTI.

Ye venerable host,

Ye mighty shades of China's royal line,

Forgive the joy that mingles with my tears,

When I behold him still alive.—Propitious pow'rs!

You never meant entirely to destroy

This bleeding country, when your kind indulgence

Lends us a youth like him.—

Oh! I can hold no more—let me infold

That lovely ardor in his father's arms—

My brave,—my gen'rous boy!—

                                         Embraces him.

TIMURKAN.

Dost thou at length

Confess it, traitor?—

ZAMTI.

Yes, I boast it, tyrant;

Boast it to thee,—to earth and heav'n I boast,

This,—this is Zamti's son.—

HAMET.

At length the hour,

The glorious hour is come, by Morat promis'd,

“When Hamet shall not blush to know his father.”

                                         Kneels to him.

ZAMTI.

Oh! thou intrepid youth!—what bright reward

Can your glad sire bestow on such desert?—

The righteous Gods, and your own inward feelings

Shall give the sweetest retribution.—Now,

Mandane, now my soul forgives thee all,

[400]  Since I have made acquaintance with my son,

Thy lovely weakness I can now excuse;

But oh! I charge thee by a husband's right—

[Page 51]

TIMURKAN.

A husband's right!—a traitor has no right—

Society disclaims him—Woman, hear—

Mark well my words—discolour not thy soul

With the black hue of crimes like his—renounce

All hymeneal vows, and take again,

Your much lov'd boy to his fond mother's arms,

While justice whirls that traitor to his fate.

MANDANE.

Thou vile adviser!—what, betray my lord,

My honour'd husband—turn a Scythian wife!

Forget the many years of fond delight,

In which my soul ne'er knew decreasing love,

Charm'd with his noble, all accomplish'd mind!

No, tyrant, no;—with him I'll rather die;

With him in ruin more supremely blest,

Than guilt triumphant on its throne.—

ZAMTI.

Now then

Inhuman tyrant, I defy thy pow'r—

Lo! here, the father, mother, and the son!

Try all your tortures on us—here we stand

Resolv'd to leave a tract of bright renown

To mark our beings—all resolv'd to die

The votaries of honour!—

TIMURKAN.

[425]  Then die ye shall—what ho!—guards, seize the slaves,

Deep in some baleful dungeon's midnight gloom

Let each apart be plung'd—and Etan too—

Let him be forthwith found—he too shall share

His father's fate.—

MIRVAN.

Be it my task, dread sir,

To make the rack ingenious in new pains,

[Page 52]

Till even cruelty almost relent

At their keen, agonizing groans.—

TIMURKAN.

Brave Mirvan,

Be that thy care.—Now by th'immortal Lama

I'll wrest this myst'ry from 'em—else the dawn

Shall see me up in arms—'gainst Corea's chief

I will unfurl my banners—his proud cities

Shall dread my thunder at their gates, and mourn

Their smoaking ramparts—o'er his verdant plains

And peaceful vales I'll drive my warlike carr,

And deluge all the east with blood.—

                                         [Exit.

ZAMTI.

Mandane, summon all thy strength.—My son,

Thy father doubts not of thy fortitude.

                                         [Exit.

OCTAR.

Mirvan, do thou bear hence those miscreant slaves.

                                         [Exit, after Zamti.

MANDANE.

Allow me but one last embrace—

                                         To the guards.

HAMET.

Oh! mother,

Would I could rescue thee.—

MANDANE.

Lost, lost again!