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- Herausgeber: Musaicum Books
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
In 'The Tragedies of Voltaire', readers are transported to the world of 18th-century France through the eyes of one of the most influential figures of the Enlightenment. This comprehensive edition features over 20 plays that delve into complex themes such as tyranny, religious intolerance, and the nature of virtue. Voltaire's literary style is a perfect blend of wit, satire, and philosophical inquiry, making each tragedy a thoughtful exploration of human nature and societal norms. It is a must-read for anyone interested in the intersection of literature and philosophy during the Enlightenment period. Voltaire's plays are not only entertaining but also serve as a powerful critique of the injustices and hypocrisies of his time. His biting commentary on social and political issues continues to resonate with readers today, showcasing the timeless relevance of his work. 'The Tragedies of Voltaire' is a captivating collection that showcases the depth of Voltaire's intellect and his enduring legacy in the literary world.
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The Tragedies of Voltaire (20+ Plays in One Edition)
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Table of Contents
MAHOMET
Table of Contents
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Mahomet.
Zopir, Sheik of Mecca.
Omar, General and second in command to Mahomet.
Seid, Slave to Mahomet.
Palmira, Slave to Mahomet.
Phanor, Senator of Mecca.
Company of Meccans.
Company of Mussulmans.
Scene, Mecca.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
ZOPIR, PHANOR.
ZOPIR. Thinkest thou thy friend will ever bend the knee To this proud hypocrite; shall I fall down And worship, I who banished him from Mecca? No: punish me, just heaven, as I deserve, If e’er this hand, the friend of innocence And freedom, stoop to cherish foul rebellion, Or aid imposture to deceive mankind!
PHANOR. Thy zeal is noble, and becomes the chief Of Ishmael’s sacred senate, but may prove Destructive to the cause it means to serve: Thy ardor cannot check the rapid power Of Mahomet, and but provokes his vengeance: There was a time when you might safely draw The sword of justice, to defend the rights Of Mecca, and prevent the flames of war From spreading o’er the land; then Mahomet Was but a bold and factious citizen, But now he is a conqueror, and a king; Mecca’s impostor at Medina shines A holy prophet; nations bend before him, And learn to worship crimes which we abhor. Even here, a band of wild enthusiasts, drunk With furious zeal, support his fond delusions, His idle tales, and fancied miracles: These spread sedition through the gaping throng, Invite his forces, and believe a God Inspires and renders him invincible. The lovers of their country think with you, But wisest counsels are not always followed; False zeal, and fear, and love of novelty Alarm the crowd; already half our city Is left unpeopled; Mecca cries aloud To thee her father, and demands a peace.
ZOPIR. Peace with a traitor! coward nation, what Can you expect but slavery from a tyrant! Go, bend your supple knees, and prostrate fall Before the idol whose oppressive hand Shall crush you all: for me, I hate the traitor; This heart’s too deeply wounded to forgive: The savage murderer robbed me of a wife And two dear children: nor is his resentment Less fierce than mine; I forced his camp, pursued The coward to his tent, and slew his son: The torch of hatred is lit up between us, And time can never extinguish it.
PHANOR. I hope It never will; yet thou shouldst hide the flame, And sacrifice thy griefs to public good: What if he lay this noble city waste, Will that avenge thee, will that serve thy cause? Thou hast lost all, son, brother, daughter, wife. Mecca alone remains to give thee comfort, Do not lose that, do not destroy thy country.
ZOPIR. Kingdoms are lost by cowardice alone.
PHANOR. As oft perhaps by obstinate resistance.
ZOPIR. Then let us perish, if it be our fate.
PHANOR. When thou art almost in the harbor, thus To brave the storm is false and fatal courage: Kind heaven, thou seest, points out to thee the means To soften this proud tyrant; fair Palmira, Thy beautous captive, brought up in the camp Of this destructive conqueror, was sent By gracious heaven, the messenger of peace, Thy guardian angel, to appease the wrath Of Mahomet; already by his herald He has demanded her.
ZOPIR. And wouldst thou have me Give up so fair a prize to this barbarian? What! whilst the tyrant spreads destruction round him, Unpeoples kingdoms, and destroys mankind, Shall beauty’s charms be sacrificed to bribe A madman’s frenzy? I should envy him That lovely fair one more than all his glory; Not that I feel the stings of wild desire, Or, in the evening of my days, indulge, Old as I am, a shameless passion for her; But, whether objects born like her to please, Spite of ourselves, demand our tenderest pity, Or that perhaps a childless father hopes To find in her another daughter, why I know not, but for that unhappy maid Still am I anxious; be it weakness in me, Or reason’s powerful voice, I cannot bear To see her in the hands of Mahomet; Would I could mould her to my wishes, form Her willing mind, and make her hate the tyrant As I do! She has sent to speak with me Here in the sacred porch and lo! she comes: On her fair cheek the blush of modesty And candor speaks the virtues of her heart.
SCENE II.
ZOPIR, PALMIRA.
ZOPIR. Hail, lovely maid! the chance of cruel war Hath made thee Zopir’s captive, but thou art not Amongst barbarians; all with me revere Palmira’s virtues, and lament her fate, Whilst youth with innocence and beauty plead Thy cause; whatever thou askest in Zopir’s power, Thou shalt not ask in vain: my life declines Towards its period, and if my last hours Can give Palmira joy, I shall esteem them The best, the happiest I have ever known.
PALMIRA. These two months past, my lord, your prisoner here, Scarce have I felt the yoke of slavery; Your generous hand, still raised to soothe affliction, Hath wiped the tears of sorrow from my eyes, And softened all the rigor of my fate: Forgive me, if emboldened by your goodness I ask for more, and centre every hope Of future happiness on you alone; Forgive me, if to Mahomet’s request I join Palmira’s, and implore that freedom He hath already asked: O listen to him, And let me say, that after heaven and him I am indebted most to generous Zopir.
ZOPIR. Has then oppression such enticing charms That thou shouldst wish and beg to be the slave Of Mahomet, to hear the clash of arms, With him to live in deserts, and in caves, And wander o’er his ever shifting country?
PALMIRA. Where’er the mind with ease and pleasure dwells, There is our home, and there our native country: He formed my soul; to Mahomet I owe The kind instruction of my earlier years; Taught by the happy partners of his bed, Who still adoring and adored by him Send up their prayers to heaven for his dear safety, I lived in peace and joy! for ne’er did woe Pollute that seat of bliss till the sad hour Of my misfortune, when wide-wasting war Rushed in upon us and enslaved Palmira: Pity, my lord, a heart oppressed with grief, That sighs for objects far, far distant from her.
ZOPIR. I understand you, madam; you expect The tyrant’s hand, and hope to share his throne.
PALMIRA. I honor him, my lord; my trembling soul Looks up to Mahomet with holy fear As to a god; but never did this heart E’er cherish the vain hope that he would deign To wed Palmira: No: such splendor ill Would suit my humble state.
ZOPIR. Whoe’er thou art, He was not born, I trust, to be thy husband, No, nor thy master; much I err, or thou Springest from a race designed by heaven to check This haughty Arab, and give laws to him Who thus assumes the majesty of kings.
PALMIRA. Alas! we know not what it is to boast Of birth or fortune; from our infant years Without or parents, friends, or country, doomed To slavery; here resigned to our hard fate, Strangers to all but to that God we serve, We live content in humble poverty.
ZOPIR. And can ye be content? and are ye strangers, Without a father, and without a home? I am a childless, poor, forlorn, old man; You might have been the comfort of my age: To form a plan of future happiness For you, had softened my own wretchedness, And made me some amends for all my wrongs: But you abhor my country and my law.
PALMIRA. I am not mistress of myself, and how Can I be thine? I pity thy misfortunes, And bless thee for thy goodness to Palmira; But Mahomet has been a father to me.
ZOPIR. A father! ye just gods! the vile impostor!
PALMIRA. Can he deserve that name, the holy prophet, The great ambassador of heaven, sent down To interpret its high will?
ZOPIR. Deluded mortals! How blind ye are, to follow this proud madman, This happy robber, whom my justice spared, And raise him from the scaffold to a throne!
PALMIRA. My lord, I shudder at your imprecations; Though I am bound by honor and the ties Of gratitude to love thee for thy bounties, This blasphemy against my kind protector Cancels the bond, and fills my soul with horror. O superstition, how thy savage power Deprives at once the best and tenderest hearts Of their humanity!
ZOPIR. Alas! Palmira, Spite of myself, I feel for thy misfortunes, Pity thy weakness, and lament thy fate.
PALMIRA. You will not grant me then——
ZOPIR. I cannot yield thee To him who has deceived thy easy heart, To a base tyrant; No: thou art a treasure Too precious to be parted with, and makest This hypocrite but more detested.
SCENE III.
ZOPIR, PALMIRA, PHANOR.
ZOPIR. Phanor, What wouldst thou?
PHANOR. At the city gate that leads To Moad’s fertile plain, the valiant Omar Is just arrived.
ZOPIR. Indeed; the tyrant’s friend, The fierce, vindictive Omar, his new convert, Who had so long opposed him, and still fought For us!
PHANOR. Perhaps he yet may serve his country, Already he hath offered terms of peace; Our chiefs have parleyed with him, he demands An hostage, and I hear they’ve granted him The noble Seid.
PALMIRA. Seid? gracious heaven!
PHANOR. Behold! my lord, he comes.
ZOPIR. Ha! Omar here! There’s no retreating now, he must be heard; Palmira, you may leave us.—O ye gods Of my forefathers, you who have protected The sons of Ishmael these three thousand years, And thou, O Sun, with all those sacred lights That glitter round us, witness to my truth, Aid and support me in the glorious conflict With proud iniquity!
SCENE IV.
ZOPIR, OMAR, PHANOR,Attendants.
ZOPIR. At length, it seems, Omar returns, after a three years’ absence, To visit that loved country which his hand So long defended, and his honest heart Has now betrayed: deserter of our gods, Deserter of our laws, how darest thou thus Approach these sacred walls to persecute And to oppress; a public robber’s slave; What is thy errand? wherefore comest thou hither?
OMAR. To pardon thee: by me our holy prophet, In pity to thy age, thy well-known valor, And past misfortunes, offers thee his hand: Omar is come to bring thee terms of peace.
ZOPIR. And shall a factious rebel offer peace Who should have sued for pardon? gracious gods! Will ye permit him to usurp your power, And suffer Mahomet to rule mankind? Dost thou not blush, vile minion as thou art, To serve a traitor? hast thou not beheld him Friendless and poor, an humble citizen, And ranking with the meanest of the throng? How little then in fortune or in fame!
OMAR. Thus low and grovelling souls like thine pretend To judge of merit, whilst in fortune’s scale Ye weigh the worth of men: proud, empty being, Dost thou not know that the poor worm which crawls Low on the earth, and the imperial eagle That soars to heaven, in the all-seeing eye Of their eternal Maker are the same, And shrink to nothing? men are equal all; From virtue only true distinction springs, And not from birth: there are exalted spirits Who claim respect and honor from themselves And not their ancestors: these, these, my lord, Are heaven’s peculiar care, and such is he Whom I obey, and who alone deserves To be a master; all mankind like me Shall one day fall before the conqueror’s feet, And future ages follow my example.
ZOPIR. Omar, I know thee well; thy artful hand In vain hath drawn the visionary portrait; Thou mayest deceive the multitude, but know, What Mecca worships Zopir can despise: Be honest then, and with the impartial eye Of reason look on Mahomet; behold him But as a mortal, and consider well By what base arts the vile impostor rose, A camel-driver, a poor abject slave, Who first deceived a fond, believing woman, And now supported by an idle dream Draws in the weak and credulous multitude: Condemned to exile, I chastised the rebel Too lightly, and his insolence returns With double force to punish my indulgence. He fled with Fatima from cave to cave, And suffered chains, contempt and banishment; Meantime the fury which he called divine Spread like a subtle poison through the crowd; Medina was infected: Omar then, To reason’s voice attentive, would have stopped The impetuous torrent; he had courage then And virtue to attack the proud usurper, Though now he crouches to him like a slave. If thy proud master be indeed a prophet, How didst thou dare to punish him? or why, If an impostor, wilt thou dare to serve him?
OMAR. I punished him because I knew him not; But now, the veil of ignorance removed, I see him as he is; behold him born To change the astonished world, and rule mankind: When I beheld him rise in awful pomp, Intrepid, eloquent, by all admired, By all adored; beheld him speak and act, Punish and pardon like a god, I lent My little aid, and joined the conqueror. Altars, thou knowest, and thrones were our reward; Once I was blind, like thee, but, thanks to heaven! My eyes are opened now; would, Zopir, thine Were open, too! let me entreat thee, change, As I have done; no longer boast thy zeal And cruel hatred, nor blaspheme our God, But fall submissive at the hero’s feet Whom thou hast injured; kiss the hand that bears The angry lightning, lest it fall upon thee. Omar is now the second of mankind; A place of honor yet remains for thee, If prudent thou wilt yield, and own a master: What we have been thou knowest, and what we are: The multitude are ever weak and blind, Made for our use, born but to serve the great, But to admire, believe us, and obey: Reign then with us, partake the feast of grandeur, No longer deign to imitate the crowd, But henceforth make them tremble.
ZOPIR. Tremble thou, And Mahomet, with all thy hateful train: Thinkest thou that Mecca’s faithful chief will fall At an impostor’s feet, and crown a rebel? I am no stranger to his specious worth; His courage and his conduct have my praise; Were he but virtuous I like thee should love him; But as he is I hate the tyrant: hence, Nor talk to me of his deceitful mercy, His clemency and goodness; all his aim Is cruelty and vengeance: with this hand I slew his darling son; I banished him: My hatred is inflexible, and so Is Mahomet’s resentment: if he e’er Re-enters Mecca, he must cut his way Through Zopir’s blood, for he is deeply stained With crimes that justice never can forgive.
OMAR. To show thee Mahomet is merciful, That he can pardon though thou canst not, here I offer thee the third of all our spoils Which we have taken from tributary kings; Name your conditions, and the terms of peace; Set your own terms on fair Palmira; take Our treasures, and be happy.
ZOPIR. Thinkest thou Zopir Will basely sell his honor and his country, Will blast his name with infamy for wealth, The foul reward of guilt, or that Palmira Will ever own a tyrant for her master? She is too virtuous e’er to be the slave Of Mahomet, nor will I suffer her To fall a sacrifice to base impostors Who would subvert the laws, and undermine The safety and the virtue of mankind.
OMAR. Implacably severe; thou talkest to Omar As if he were a criminal, and thou His judge; but henceforth I would have thee act A better part, and treat me as a friend, As the ambassador of Mahomet, A conqueror and a king.
ZOPIR. A king! who made, Who crowned him?
OMAR. Victory: respect his glory, And tremble at his power: amidst his conquests The hero offers peace; our swords are still Unsheathed, and woe to this rebellious city If she submits not: think what blood must flow, The blood of half our fellow-citizens; Consider, Zopir, Mahomet is here, And even now requests to speak with thee.
ZOPIR. Ha! Mahomet!
OMAR. Yes, he conjures thee.
ZOPIR. Traitor! Were I the sole despotic ruler here He should be answered soon——by chastisement.
OMAR. I pity, Zopir, thy pretended virtue; But since the senate insolently claim Divided empire with thee, to the senate Let us begone; Omar will meet thee there.
ZOPIR. I’ll follow thee: we then shall see who best Can plead his cause: I will defend my gods, My country, and her laws; thy impious voice Shall bellow for thy vengeful deity, Thy persecuting god, and his false prophet.Turning to Phanor. Haste, Phanor, and with me repulse the traitor; Who spares a villain is a villain:—come, Let us, my friend, unite to crush his pride, Subvert his wily purposes, destroy him, Or perish in the attempt: If Mecca listens To Zopir’s councils, I shall free my country From a proud tyrant’s power, and save mankind.
End of the First Act.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
SEID, PALMIRA.
PALMIRA. Welcome, my Seid, do I see thee here Once more in safety? What propitious god Conducted thee? At length Palmira's woes Shall have an end, and we may yet be happy.
SEID. Thou sweetest charmer, balm of every woe, Dear object of my wishes and my tears, O since that day of blood when flushed with conquest The fierce barbarian snatched thee from my arms, When midst a heap of slaughtered friends I lay Expiring on the ground, and called on death, But called in vain, to end my hated being, What have I suffered for my dear Palmira! How have I cursed the tardy hours that long Withheld my vengeance! my distracted soul's Impatience thirsted for the bloody field, That with these hands I might lay waste this seat Of slavery, where Palmira mourned so long In sad captivity; but thanks to heaven! Our holy prophet, whose deep purposes Are far beyond the ken of human wisdom, Hath hither sent his chosen servant Omar; I flew to meet him, they required a hostage; I gave my faith, and they received it; firm In my resolve to live or die for thee.
PALMIRA. Seid, the very moment ere thou camest To calm my fears, and save me from despair, Was I entreating the proud ravisher; Thou knowest, I cried, the only good on earth I prized is left behind, restore it to me: Then clasped his knees, fell at the tyrant's feet, And bathed them with my tears, but all in vain: How his unkind refusal shocked my soul! My eyes grew dim, and motionless I stood As one deprived of life; no succor nigh, No ray of hope was left, when Seid came To ease my troubled heart, and bring me comfort.
SEID. Who could behold unmoved Palmira's woes?
PALMIRA. The cruel Zopir; not insensible He seemed to my misfortunes, yet at last Unkindly told me, I must never hope To leave these walls, for naught should tear me from him.
SEID. 'Tis false; for Mahomet, my royal master, With the victorious Omar, and forgive me, If to these noble friends I proudly add The name of Seid, these shall set thee free, Dry up thy tears, and make Palmira happy: The God of Mahomet, our great protector, That God whose sacred standard I have borne; He who destroyed Medina's haughty ramparts Shall lay rebellious Mecca at our feet; Omar is here, and the glad people look With eyes of friendship on him; in the name Of Mahomet he comes, and meditates Some noble purpose.
PALMIRA. Mahomet indeed Might free us, and unite two hearts long since Devoted to his cause; but he, alas! Is far removed, and we abandoned captives.
SCENE II.
PALMIRA, SEID, OMAR.
OMAR Despair not; heaven perhaps may yet reward you, For Mahomet and liberty are nigh.
SEID. Is he then come?
PALMIRA. Our friend and father?
OMAR Yes. I met the council, and by Mahomet Inspired, addressed them thus: “Within these walls, Even here,” I cried, “the favorite of heaven, Our holy prophet, first drew breath; the great, The mighty conqueror, the support of kings; And will ye not permit him but to rank As friend and fellow-citizen? He comes not To ruin or enslave, but to protect, To teach you and to save, to fix his power, And hold dominion o'er the conquered heart.” I spoke; the hoary sages smiled applause, And all inclined to favor us; but Zopir, Still resolute and still inflexible, Declared, the people should be called together, And give their general voice: the people met, Again I spoke, addressed the citizens, Exhorted, threatened, practiced every art To win their favor, and at length prevailed; The gates are opened to great Mahomet, Who after fifteen years of cruel exile Returns to bless once more his native land; With him the gallant Ali, brave Hercides, And Ammon the invincible, besides A numerous train of chosen followers: The people throng around him; some with looks Of hatred, some with smiles of cordial love; Some bless the hero, and some curse the tyrant: Some threaten and blaspheme, whilst others fall Beneath his feet, embrace and worship him; Meantime the names of God, of peace and freedom, Are echoed through the all-believing crowd; Whilst Zopir's dying party bellows forth In idle threats its impotent revenge: Amidst their cries, unruffled and serene, In triumph walks the god-like Mahomet, Bearing the olive in his hand; already Peace is proclaimed, and see! The conqueror comes.
SCENE III.
MAHOMET, OMAR, HERCIDES, SEID, PALMIRA, Attendants.
MAHOMET. My friends, and fellow-laborers, valiant Ali, Morad, and Ammon, and Hericides, hence To your great work, and in my name instruct The people, lead them to the paths of truth, Promise and threaten; let my God alone Be worshipped, and let those who will not love Be taught to fear him—Seid, art thou here?
SEID. My ever-honored father, and King, Led by that power divine who guided thee To Mecca's walls, preventing your commands I came, prepared to live or die with thee.
MAHOMET. You should have waited for my orders; he Who goes beyond his duty knows it not; I am heaven's minister, and thou art mine; Learn then of me to serve and to obey.
PALMIRA. Forgive, my lord, a youth's impatient ardor: Brought up together from our infant years, The same our fortunes, and our thoughts the same: Alas! My life has been a life of sorrow; Long have I languished in captivity, Far from my friends, from Seid, and from thee; And now at last, when I beheld a ray Of comfort shining of me, they unkindness Blasts my fair hopes, and darkens all the scene.
MAHOMET. Palmira, 'tis enough : I know thy virtues; Let naught disturb thee: spite of all my cares, Glory, and empire, and the weight of war, I will remember thee; Palmira still Lives in my heart, and shares it with mankind: Seid shall join troops: thou, gentle maid, Mayest serve they God in peace: fear naught but Zopir.
SCENE IV.
MAHOMET, OMAR,
MAHOMET. Brave Omar, stay, for in thy faithful bosom Will I repose the secrets of my soul: The lingering progress of a doubtful siege May stop our rapid course; we must not give These weak deluded mortals too much time To pry into our actions; prejudice Rules o'er the vulgar with despotic sway. Thou knowest there is a tale which I have spread And they believe, that universal empire Awaits the prophet, who to Mecca's walls Shall lead his conquering bands, and bring her peace. 'Tis mine to mark the errors of mankind, And to avail me of them; but whilst thus I try each art to soothe this fickle people What thinks my friend of Seid and Palmira?
OMAR. I think most nobly of them, that amidst Those few staunch followers who own no God, No faith but thine, who love thee as their father, Their friend, and benefactor, none obey Or serve thee with an humbler, better mind: They are most faithful.
MAHOMET. Omar, thou art deceived; They are my worst foes, they love each other.
OMAR. And can you blame their tenderness?
MAHOMET. My friend, I'll tell thee all my weakness.
OMAR. How my Lord!
MAHOMET. Thou knowest the reigning passion of my soul; Whilst proud ambition and the cares of empire Weighed heavy on me, Mahomet's hard life Has been a conflict with opposing Nature, Whom I have vanquished by austerity, And self denial; have banished from me That baleful poison which unnerves mankind, Which only serves to fire them into madness, And brutal follies; on the burning sand Or desert rocks I brave the inclement sky, And bear the seasons' rough vicissitude: Love is my only solace, the dear object O fall my toils, the idol I adore, The god of Mahomet, the powerful rival Of my ambition: know, midst all my queens, Palmira reigns sole mistress of my heart: Think then what pangs of jealousy thy friend Must feel when she expressed her fatal passion For Seid.
OMAR. But thou art revenged.
MAHOMET. Judge thou If soon I ought not to take vengeance on them; That thou mayest hate my rival more, I'll tell thee Who Seid and Palmira are—the children Of him whom I abhor, my deadliest foe.
OMAR. Ha! Zopir!
MAHOMET. Is their father: fifteen years Are past since brave Hercides to my care Gave up their infant years; they know not yet Or who or what they are; I brought them up Together; I indulged their lawless passion., And added fuel to the guilty flame. Methinks it is as if the hand of heaven Had meant in them to center every crime. But I must— Ha! Their father comes this way, His eyes are full of bitterness and wrath Against me—now be vigilant, my Omar, Hercides must be careful to possess This most important pass; return, and tell me Whether 'tis most expedient to declare Against him, or retreat: away.
SCENE V.
ZOPIR, MAHOMET,
ZOPIR. Hard fate! Unhappy Zopir! Thus compelled to meet My worst of foes, the foe of all mankind! Since 'tis the will of heaven that Mahomet And Zopir should at length untie, approach Without a blush, and fearless tell thy tale. I blush for thee alone, whose baneful arts Have drawn thy country to the brink of ruin; Who in the bosom of fair peace wouldst wage Intestine war, loosen the sacred bonds Of friendship, and destroy our happiness; Beneath the veil of proffered terms thou meanest But to betray, whilst discord stalks before thee: Thou vile assemblage of hypocrisy And insolence, abhorred tyrant! Thus Do the chosen ministers of heaven dispense Its sacred blessings, and announce their God?
MAHOMET. Wert thou not Zopir, I would answer thee As thou deservest, in thunder, by the voice Of that offended Being thou deridest: Armed with the hallowed Koran I would teach thee To tremble and obey in humble silence: And with the subject world to kneel before me; But I will talk to thee without disguise, As man to man should speak, and friend to friend: I have ambition, Zopir; where's the man Who has it not? But never citizen, Or chief, or priest, or king projected aught So noble as the plan of Mahomet; In acts or arms hath every nation shone Superior in its turn; Arabia now Steps forth; that generous people, long unknown And unrespected, saw her glories sunk, Her honors lost; but lo! The hour is come When she shall rise to victory and renown; The world lies desolate from pole to pole; India's slaves and bleeding Persia mourns Her slaughtered sons; whilst Egypt hangs the head Dejected; from the walls of Constantine Splendor is fled; the Roman Empire torn By discord, sees its scattered members spread On every side inglorious;--let us raise Arabia on the ruins of mankind: The blind and tottering universe demands Another worship, and another God. Crete had her Minos, Egypt her Osiris, To Asia Zoroaster gave his laws, And Numa was in Italy adored: O'er savage nations where nor monarchs ruled Nor manners softened, nor religion taught, Hath many a sage his fruitless maxims spread; Beneath a nobler yoke I mean to bend The prostrate world, and change their feeble laws, Abolish their false worship, pull down Their powerless gods, and on my purer faith Found universal empire: say not Zopir, That Mahomet betrays his country, no: I mean but to destroy its weak supports, And banishing idolatry, unite it Beneath one king, one prophet, and one God; I shall subdue it but to make it glorious.
ZOPIR. Is this thy purpose then, and darest thou thus Avow it? Canst thou change the hearts of men, And make them think like thee? Are war and slaughter The harbingers of wisdom and of peace; Can he who ravages instruct mankind? If in the night of ignorance and error We long have wandrered, must thy dreadful torch Enlighten us? What right hast thou to empire?
MAHOMET. That right which firm, exalted spirits claim O'er vulgar minds.
ZOPIR. Thus every bold impostor May forge new fetters, and enslave mankind: He has a right, it seems, to cheat the world If he can dot it with an air of grandeur.
MAHOMET. I know your people well; I know they want A leader; my religion, true or false, Is needful to them: what have all your gods And all your idols done? What laurels grow Beneath their altars? Your low, groveling sect Debases man, unnerves his active soul, And makes it heavy, phlegmatic, and mean; Whilst mine exalts it, gives it strength and courage: My law forms heroes.
ZOPIR. Rather call them robbers: Away; not bring thy hateful lessons here; Go to the school of tyrants, boast thy frauds To lost Medina, where thou reignest supreme Where blinded bigots bend beneath thy power, And thou beholdest thy equals at thy feet.
MAHOMET. My equals! Mahomet has none; long since I passed them all; Medina is my own, And Mecca trembles at me; if thou holdest Thy safety dear, receive the peace I offer.
ZOPIR. Thou talkest of peace, but 'tis not thy heart; I'm not to be deceived.
MAHOMET. I would not have thee; The weak deceive, the powerful command: To-morrow I shall force thee to submit; To-day, observe, I would have been they friend.
ZOPIR. Can we be friends? Can Mahomet and Zopir E'er be united? Say, what god shall work A miracle like that?
MAHOMET. I'll tell thee one, A powerful God, one that is always heard, By me he speaks to thee.
ZOPIR. Who is it? Name him.
MAHOMET. Interest, thy own dear interest.
ZOPIR. Sooner heaven And hell shall be united; interest May be the god of Mahomet, but mine Is—justice: what shall join them to each other? Where is the cement that must bind our friendship? Is that the son I slew, or the warm blood Of Zopir's house which thou has shed?
MAHOMET. It is Thy blood, thy son's—for now I will unveil A secret to thee, known to none but me: Thou weepest thy children dead; they both are—living.
ZOPIR. What sayest thou? Living? Unexpected bliss! My children living?
MAHOMET. Yes; and both—my prisoners.
ZOPIR. My children slaves to thee? Impossible!
MAHOMET. My bounty nourished them.
ZOPIR. And couldst thou spare A child of Zopir's?
MAHOMET. For their father's faults I will not punish them
ZOPIR. But tell me, say, For what are they reserved?
MAHOMET. Their life or death Depend on me: speak but the word, and thou Art master of their fate.
ZOPIR. O name the price And thou shalt have it; must I give my blood, Or must I bear their chains, and be the slave Of Mahomet?
MAHOMET. I ask not either of thee: Lend me thy aid but to subdue the world; Surrender Mecca to me and give up Your temple, bid the astonished people read My sacred Koran; be thou my vassal, And fall before me, then will I restore Thy son, perhaps hereafter may reward thee With honors, and contract a closer tie With Zopir.
ZOPIR. Mahomet, thou seest in me A tender father: after fifteen years Of cruel absence, to behold my children, To die in their embraces, were the first And fairest blessings that my soul could wish for; But if to thee I must betray my country, Or sacrifice my children, know, proud tyrant, The choice is made already—fare thee well.
MAHOMET. Inexorable dotard! But henceforth I will be more implacable, more cruel Even than thyself.
SCENE VI
MAHOMET, OMAR.
OMAR. And so indeed thou must be, Or all is lost: already I have bought Their secret counsels: Mahomet, to-morrow The truce expires, and Zopir reassumes His power; thy life's in danger: half the senate Are leagued against thee: those who dare not fight May hire the dark assassin to destroy thee; May screen their guilt beneath the mask of justice, And call the murder legal punishment.
MAHOMET. First they shall feel my vengeance: persecution, Thou knowest, has ever been my best support. Zopir must die.
OMAR. 'Tis well resolved: his fate Will teach the rest obedience: lose no time.
MAHOMET. Yet, spite of my resentment, I must hide The murderous hand that deals the blow. To 'scape Suspicion's watchful eye, and not incense The multitude.
OMAR. They are not worth our care.
MAHOMET. And yet they must be pleased: I want an arm That will strike boldly.
OMAR. Seid is the man; I'll answer for him.
MAHOMET. Seid?
OMAR. Ay: the best, The fittest instrument to serve our purpose: As Zopir's hostage he may find occasion To speak with him, and soon avenge his master. Thy other favorites are too wise, too prudent For such a dangerous enterprise; old age Takes off the bandage of credulity From mortal eyes; but the young, simple heart, The willing slave to its own fond opinions, And void of guile, will act as we direct it: Youth is the proper period for delusion. Seid, thou knowest, is superstitious, bold, And violent, but easy to be lead; Like a tame lion, to his keeper's voice Obedient.
MAHOMET. What! The brother of Palmira?
OMAR. Ay; Seid, the fierce son of thy proud foe, The incestuous rival of great Mahomet, His master's rival.
MAHOMET. I detest him, Omar, Abhor his very name; my murdered son Cries out for vengeance on him; but thou knowest The object of my love, and whence she sprung; Thou seest I am oppressed on every side; I would have altars, victims, and a throne; I would have Zopir's blood, and Seid's too: I must consult my interest, my revenge, My honor, and my love, that fatal passion, Which, spite of my resentment, holds this heart In shameful chains: I must consult religion, All powerful motive, and necessity That throws a veil o'er every crime: away.
End of the Second Act
ACT III.
SCENE I.
SEID, PALMIRA
PALMIRA. O Seid, keep me not in dread suspense, What is this secret sacrifice? What blood Hath heaven demanded?
SEID. The eternal power Deigns to accept my service, calls on me To execute its purposes divine; To him this heart's devoted, and for him This arm shall rise in vengeance; I am bound To Omar and to Mahomet, have sworn To perish in the glorious cause of heaven: My next and dearest care shall be Palmira.
PALMIRA. Why was not I a witness to thy oath? Had I been with thee, I had been less wretched; But doubts distract me: Omar talks of treason, Of blood that soon must flow; the senate's rage, And Zopir's dark intrigues: the flames of war Once more are kindled, and the sword is drawn Heaven only knows when to be sheathed again: So says our prophet, he who cannot lie, Cannot deceive us: O I fear for Seid, Fear all from Zopir.
SEID. So base and so perfidious? But this morning, When as a hostage, I appeared before him, I thought him noble, generous and humane; Some power invincible in secret worked, And won me to him; whether the respect Due to his name, or specious form external Concealed the blackness of his heart I know not; Whether thy presence filled my raptured soul With joy that drove out every painful sense, And would not let me think of aught but thee: Whate'er the cause, methought I was most happy When nearest him: that he should thus seduce My easy heart makes me detest him more; And yet how hard it is to look on those With eyes of hatred whom we wish to love!
PALMIRA. By every bond hath heaven united us, And Seid and Palmira are the same: Were I not bound to thee, and to that faith Which Mahomet inspires, I too had pleaded The cause of Zopir; but religion, love, And nature, all forbid it.
SEID. Think no more Of vain remorse, but listen to the voice Of heaven, the God we serve will be propitious: Our holy prophet who protects his children Will bless our faithful love: for thy dear sake I hazard all. Farewell.
SCENE II.
PALMIRA (Alone.)
PALIMRA Some dark presage Of future misery hangs o'er me still: That love which made my happiness, this day, So often wished for, is a day of horror: What is this dreadful oath, this solemn compact Which Seid talks of? I've a thousand fears Upon me when I think of Zopir: oft As I invoke great Mahomet, I feel A secret dread, and tremble as I worship: O save me, heaven! Fearful I obey, And blind I follow” O direct my steps Aright, and deign to wash my tears away!
SCENE III.
MAHOMET, PALMIRA.
PALMIRA. Propitious heaven hath heard my prayers; he comes The prophet comes. O gracious Mahomet, My Seid—
MAHOMET. What of him? Thou seemest disturbed; What should Palmira fear when I am with her!
PALMIRA. Have I not cause when Mahomet himself Seems touched with grief?
MAHOMET. Perhaps it is for thee: Darest thou, imprudent maid, avow a passion Ere I approved it: is the heart I formed Turned rebel to its master, to my laws Unfaithful? O ingratitude!
PALMIRA. My lord, Behold me at your feet, and pity me Didst thou not once propitious smile upon us, And give thy sanction to our growing love? Thou knowest the virtuous passion that unites us Is but a chain that binds us more to thee.
MAHOMET. The bonds that folly and imprudence knit Are dangerous! Guilt doth sometimes follow close The steps of innocence: our hearts deceive us, And love, with all his store of dear delights, May cost us tears, and dip his shafts in blood.
PALMIRA. Nor would I murmur if it flowed for Seid.
MAHOMET. Are you indeed so fond?
PALMIRA. E'er since the day When good Hercides to thy sacred power Consigned us both, unconquerable instinct, Still growing with our years, united us In tender friendship; 'twas the work of heaven That guides our every action, and o'errules The fate of mortals; so thy doctrines teach: God cannot change, nor gracious heaven condemn That love itself inspired: what once was right Is always so; canst thou then blame Palmira?
MAHOMET. I can, and must; nay, thou wilt tremble more When I reveal the horrid secret to thee. Attend, rash maid, and let me teach thy soul What to avoid, and what to follow: listen To me alone.
PALMIRA. To thee alone Palmira Will listen ever the obedient slave Of Mahomet; this heart can never lose It's veneration for thy sacred name.
MOHAMET. That veneration in excess may lead To foul ingratitude.
PALMIRA. When I forget Thy goodness, then may Seid punish me!
MAHOMET. Seid!
PALMIRA. O why, my lord, that cruel frown, And look severe?
MAHOMET. Be not alarmed; I meant But to explore the secrets of thy heart And try if thou were worthy to be saved: Be confident, and rest on my protection; On your obedience will depend your fate; If ye expect a blessing at my hands, Be careful to deserve it, and whate'er The will of heaven determines touching Seid, Be thou his guide, direct him in the paths Of duty and religion; let him keep His promise, and be worthy of Palmira.
PALMIRA. O he will keep it; doubt him not, my lord, I'll answer for his heart as for my own; Seid adores thee, worships Mahomet More than he loves Palmira; thou are all To him, his friend, his father, and his king: I'll fly, and urge him to his duty.
SCENE IV.
MAHOMET (Alone.)
MAHOMET Well: Spite of myself I must, it seems, be made A confidant; the simple girl betrayed Her guilty flame, and innocently plunged The dagger in my heart: unhappy race! Father and children, all my foes, all doomed To make me wretched! But ye soon shall prove That dreadful is my hatred—and my love.
SCENE V.
MAHOMET ,OMAR
OMAR. At length the hour is come, to seize Palmira, To conquer Mecca, and to punish Zopir; His death alone can prop our feeble cause, And humble these proud citizens: brave Seid Can best avenge thee; he has free access To Zopir: yonder gloomy passage leads To his abode; there the rebellious chief His idle vows and flattering incense ours Before his fancied deities; there Seid, Full of the law divine by thee inspired, Shall sacrifice the traitor to the God Of Mahomet
MAHOMET. He shall: that youth was born For crimes of deepest dye: he shall be the first My useful slave, my instrument, and then The victim of my rage; it must be so: My safety, my resentment, and my love, My holy faith, and the decrees of my fate Irrevocable, all require it of me: But thinkest thou, Omar, he hath all the warmth Of wild fanaticism?
OMAR. I know he has, And suits our purpose well; Palmira too, Will urge him on: religion, love, resentment Will bind his headstrong youth, and hurry him To madness.
MAHOMET. Hast thou bound him by an oath?
OMAR. O yes; in all the gloomy pomp of rites Nocturnal, oaths, and altars, we have fixed His superstitious soul, placed in his hand The sacred sword, and fired him with the rage Of fierce enthusiasm—but behold him.
SCENE VI.
MAHOMET, OMAR, SEID
MAHOMET. Child Of heaven, decreed to execute the laws Of an offended God, now hear by me His sacred will: thou must avenge his cause.
SEID. O thou, to whom my soul devoted bends In humblest adoration, king, and prophet, Sovereign, acknowledged by the voice of heave, O'er prostrate nations—I am wholly thine: But O enlighten my dark mind! O say, How can weak man avenge his God?
MAHOMET. Oft-times Doth he make use of feeble hands like thine To punish impious mortals, and assert His power divine.
SEID. Will he, whose perfect image Is seen in Mahomet, thus condescend To honor Seid?
MAHOMET. Do as he ordains; That is the highest honor man can boast, Blindly to execute his great decree: Be thankful for the choice, and strike the blow: The angel of destruction shall assist, The God of armies shall protect thee.
SEID. Speak; What tyrant must be slain? What blood must flow?
MAHOMET. The murderer's blood whom Mahomet abhors, Who persecutes our faith, and spurns our God, Who slew my son; the worst of all my foes, The cruel Zopir.
SEID. Ha! Must Zopir fall?
MAHOMET. And dost thou pause? Presumptuous youth! 'tis impedious But to deliberate: far from Mahomet Be all who for themselves shall dare to judge Audacious: those who reason are not oft Prone to believe; thy part is to obey. Have it not told thee what the will of heaven Determines? If it be decreed that Mecca, Spite of her crimes and base idolatry, Shall be the promised temple, the chosen seat Of empire, where I am appointed king, And pontiff, knowest thou holy Abram here Was born, that here his sacred ashes rest? He who, obedient to the voice of God, Stifled the cries of nature, and gave up His darling child: the same all powerful Being Requires of thee a sacrifice; to thee He calls for blood; and darest thou hesitate When God commands? Hence, vile idolater, Unworthy Mussulman, away, and seek Another master; go, and love Palmira; But thou despiset her, and bravest the wrath Of angry heaven; away, forsake thy lord, And serve his deadliest foes.
SEID. It is the voice Of God that speaks in Mahomet—command, And I obey.
MAHOMET. Strike, then, and by the blood Of Zopir merit life eternal.—Omar, Attend and watch him well.
SCENE VII.
SEID (Alone)
SEID. To sacrifice A poor, defenseless, weak old man!— no matter: How many victims at the altar fall As helpless! Yet their blood in grateful streams Rises to heaven: God hath sworn, and Seid shall perform His sacred promise—O assist me now, Illustrious spirits, you who have destroyed The tyrants of the earth, O join your rage To mine, o guide this trembling hand, and thou Exterminating angel who defendest The cause of Mahomet, inspire this heart With all thy fierceness!—ha! What do I see?
SCENE VIII.
ZOPIR, SEID.
ZOPIR. Seid, thou seemest disturbed; unhappy youth! Why art thou ranked amongst my foes? My heart Feels for thy woes, and trembles at thy danger; My house may be a shelter from the storm. Accept it, thou art welcome, for the life Is dear to Zopir.
SEID. Gracious heaven! Wilt thou Protect me thus? Will Zopir guard his foe? What do I hear! O duty, conscience, virtue! O Mahomet, this rives my heart.
ZOPIR. Perhaps Thou art surprised to find that I can pity An enemy, and wish for Seid's welfare; I am a man like thee; that tie alone Demands at least a sympathetic tear For innocence afflicted: gracious gods, Drive from this earth those base and savage men, Who shed with joy their fellow-creatures' blood.
SEID. O glorious sentiments! And can there be Such virtue in an infidel?
ZOPIR. Thou knowest But little of that virtue, thus stand Astonished at it! O mistaken youth, In what a maze of errors art thou lost!\ Bound by a tyrant's savage laws, thou thinkest Virtue resides in Mussulmans alone; Thy master rules thee with a rod of iron, And shackles thy free soul in shameful bonds; Zopir thou hatest, alas! Thou knowest him not: I pardon thee because thou are the slave Of Mahomet; but how cants thou believe A God who teaches hatred, and delights In discord?
SEID. O I never can obey him! I know, and feel I cannot hate thee, Zopir.
ZOPIR. Alas! The more I talk to him, the more He gains upon me: his ingenuous look, His youth, his candor, all conspire to charm me; How could a follower of this vile impostor This win my heart! Who gave thee birth what art Thou?
SEID. A wretched orphan; all I have on earth Is a kind master, whom I never met Have disobeyed; howe'er my love for thee May tempt me to betray him.
ZOPIR. Knowest thou not Thy parents then?
SEID. His camp was the first object My eyes beheld; his temple is my country; I know no other; and amidst the crowd Of yearly tributes to our holy prophet, None e'er was treated with more tenderness Than Seid was.
ZOPIR. I love his gratitude: Thy kind return for benefits received Merits my praise:--O why did heaven employ The hand of Mahomet in such an office? He was thy father, and Palmira's too; Why dost thou sigh? Why dost thou tremble thus? Why turn thee from me? Sure some dreadful thought Hangs on the mind.
SEID. It must be so: the times Are full of terror.
ZOPIR. If thou feelest remorse Thy heart is guiltless; murder is abroad, Let me preserve thy life.
SEID. O gracious heaven! And can I have a thought of taking thine? Palmira! O my oath! O God of vengeance!
ZOPIR. For the last time remember I entreat thee To follow me; away thy fate depends Upon this moment.
SCENE IX.
ZOPIR, SEID. ,OMAR
OMAR. Traitor, Mahomet Expects thee.
SEID. O I know not where or what I am; destruction, ruin and despair On every side await me: wither now Shall wretched Seid fly?
OMAR. To him whom God Hath chosen, thy injured king, and master.
SEID. Yes: And there abjure the dreadful oath I made.
SCENE X.
ZOPIR (Alone)
ZOPIR. The desperate youth is gone—I know not why, But my heart beats for his distress; his looks, His pity, his remorse, his every action Affect me deeply: I must follow him.
SCENE XI.
ZOPIR, PHANOR
PHANOR. This letter, sir, was by an Arab given In secret to me.
ZOPIR. From Hercides! Gods, What do I read? Will heaven in tenderest pity At length replay me for a life of sorrows? Hercides begs to see me—he who snatched From this fond bosom my two helpless children; They yet are living, so this paper tells me, Slaves to the tyrant—Seid and Palmira Are orphans both, and know not whence they sprang, Perhaps my children—O delusive hope, Why wilt thou flatter me? It cannot be; Fain would I credit thee, thou sweet deceiver: I fly to meet and to embrace my children; Yes, I will see Hercides: let him come At midnight to me, to this holy altar Where I so often have invoked the gods, At last, perhaps, propitious to my vows: O ye immortal powers, restore my children, Give back to virtue's paths two generous hearts Corrupted by an impious, vile usurper! If Seid and Palmira are not mine, If such is my heart fate, I will adopt The noble pair, and be their fathers still
End of the Third Act.
ACT IV.
SCENE I
MAHOMET, OMAR.
OMAR. My lord, our secret is discovered; Seid Has told Hercides; we are on the verge Of ruin, yet I know he will obey.
MAHOMET. Revealed it, sayest thou?
OMAR. Yes: Hercides loves him With tenderness.
MAHOMET. Indeed! What said he to it?
OMAR. He stood aghast, and seemed to pity Zopir.
MAHOMET. He's weak, and therefore not to be entrusted; Fools ever will be traitors; but no matter, Let him take heed; a method may be found To rid us of such dangerous witnesses: Say, Omar, have my orders been obeyed?
OMAR. They have, my lord.
MAHOMET. 'Tis well: remember, Omar, In one important hour or Mahomet Or Zopir is no more; if Zopir dies, The credulous people will adore that God Who thus declared for me, and saved his prophet: Be this our first great object; that once done, Take care of Seid; art thou sure the poison Will do its office?
OMAR. Fear it not, my lord.
MAHOMET. O we must work in secret, the dark shades Of death must hide our purpose—while we shed Old Zopir's blood, be sure you keep Palmira In deepest ignorance; she must not know The secret of her birth: her bliss and mine Depend upon it; well thou knowest, my triumphs From error's fruitful source incessant flow: The ties of blood, and all their boasted power Are mere delusions: what are nature's bonds? Nothing but habit, the mere force of custom: Palmira knows no duty but obedience To me; I am her lord, her king, her father, Perhaps may add the name of husband to them: Her little heart will beat with proud ambition To captivate her master—but the hour Approaches that must rid me of my foe, The hated Zopir: Seid is prepared— And see, he comes: let us retire.
OMAR. Observe His wild demeanor; rage and fierce resentment Possess his soul.
SCENE II
MAHOMET, OMAR. retired to one side of the stage; SEID at the farther end.
SEID. This dreadful duty then Must be fulfilled.
MAHOMET. To Omar. Let us begone, in search Of other means to make our power secure. Exit with Omar.
SEID. Alone. I could not answer: one reproachful word From Mahomet sufficed: I stood abashed, But not convinced: if heaven requires it of me, I must obey; but it will cost me dear.
SCENE III
SEID, PALMIRA.
SEID. Palmira, art thou here? What fatal cause Hath led thee to this seat of horror?
PALMIRA. Fear, And love directed me to find thee, Seid, To ask thee what dread sacrifice thou meanest To offer here; do heaven and Mahomet Demand it from thee, must it be? O speak.
SEID. Palmira, thou commandest my every thought And every action; all depend on thee: Direct them as thou wilt, inform my soul, And guide my hand: be thou my guardian god, Explain the will of heaven which yet I know not; Why am I chosen to be its instrument Of vengeance? are the prophet's dread commands Irrevocable?
PALMIRA. Seid, we must yield in silence, Nor dare to question his decrees; he hears Our secret sighs, nor are our sorrows hid From Mahomet's all seeing eye: to doubt Is profanation of the deity. His God is God alone; he could not else Be thus victorious, thus invincible.
SEID. He must be Seid's God who is Palmira's: Yet cannot my astonished could conceive A being, tender, merciful, and kind, Commanding murder; then again I think To doubt is guilt: the priest without remorse Destroys the victim: by the voice of heaven I know that Zopir was condemned, I know That Seid was predestined to support The law divine: so Mahomet ordained, And I obey him: fired with holy zeal I go to slay the enemy of God; And yet methinks another deity Draws back my arm, bids me spare the victim. Religion lost her power when I beheld The wretched Zopir; duty urged in vain Her cruel plea, exhorting me to murder; With joy I listened to the plaintive voice Of soft humanity: but Mahomet— How awful! How majestic! Who can bear His wrath? His frowns reproached my shameful weakness; Religion is a dreadful power: alas! Palmira, I am lost in doubts and fears, Discordant passions tear this feeble heart: I must be impious, must desert my faith, Or be a murderer: Seid was not formed For an assassin; but 'tis heaven's command, And I have promised to avenge its cause: The tears of grief and rage united flow, Contending duties raise a storm within, And thou alone, Palmira, must appease it; Fix my uncertain heart, and give it peace: Alas! Without dreadful sacrifice, The tie that binds us is forever broke; This only can secure thee.
PALMIRA. Am I then The price of blood, of Zopir's blood?
SEID. So heaven And Mahomet decree.
PALMIRA. Love ne'er was meant To make us cruel, barbarous, and inhuman.
SEID. To Zopir's murderer, and to him alone, Palmira must be given.
PALMIRA. O hard condition!
SEID. But 'tis the will of Mahomet and heaven.
PALMIRA. Alas!
SEID. Thou knowest the dreadful curse that waits On disobedience—everlasting pain.
PALMIRA. If thou must be the instrument of vengeance, If at thy hands the blood which thou hast promised Shall be required—
SEID. What's to be done?
PALMIRA. I tremble To think of it—yet—
SEID. It must be so then: thou Hast fixed his doom; Palmira has consented.
PALMIRA. Did I consent?
SEID. Thou didst.
PALMIRA. Detested thought! What have I said?
SEID. By thee the voice of heaven Speaks its last dread command, and I obey: Yon fatal altar is the chosen seat Of Zopir's worship, there he bends the knee To his false gods; retire, my sweet Palmira.
PALMIRA. I cannot leave thee.
SEID. Thou must not be witness To such as a deed of horror: these, Palmira Are dreadful moments: fly to yonder grove, Thou wilt be near the prophet there: away.
PALMIRA. Zopir must die then?
SEID. Yes: this fatal hand Must drag him to the earth, there murder him, And bathe yon ruined altar in his blood.
PALMIRA. Die by thy hand! I shudder at the thought: But see! He comes; just heaven! (the farther part of the stage opens, and discovers an altar.)
SCENE IV
SEID, PALMIRA, on the side; ZOPIR, standing near the altar.
ZOPIR. Ye guardian god's Of Mecca, threatened by an impious sect Of vile imposters, now assert your power, And let your Zopir's prayers, perhaps the last He e'er shall make, be heard! The feeble bonds Of our short peace are broken, and fierce war Vindictive rages; O if ye support The cause of this usurper—
SEID. Aside to Palmira. Hear, Palmira, How he blasphemes!
ZOPIR. May death be Zopir's lot! I wish for naught on earth but to behold, In my last hour, and to embrace my children, To die in their loved arms, if yet they live, If they are here, for something whispers me That I shall see them still.
PALMIRA. Aside to Seid. His children, said he?
ZOPIR. Or I should die with pleasure at the sight: Watch over and protect them, ye kind gods, O let them think like me, but not like me Be wretched!
SEID. See! He prays to his false gods: This is the time to end him. (draws his sword)
PALMIRA. Do not, Seid.
SEID. To serve my God, to please and merit thee, This sword, devoted to the cause of heaven, Is drawn, and shall destroy its deadliest foe; Yon dreary walk invites me to the deed, Methinks the path is bloody, wandering ghosts Glide through the shade, and beckon me away.
PALMIRA. What sayest thou, Seid?
SEID. Ministers of death, I follow you; conduct me to the altar, And guide my trembling hand!
PALMIRA. It must not be; 'tis horrible: O stop, my Seid.
SEID. No: The hour is come, and see! The altar shakes.
PALMIRA. 'Tis heaven's assent, and we must doubt no more.
SEID. Means it to urge no me on, or to restrain?
