Dependent on my gift-Yes, Bajazet,

I bid thee-live! So much my soul disdains That thou shouldst think I can fear aught but Heaven:

Nay, more; couldst thou forget thy brutal fierce

ness,

And form thyself to manhood, I would bid thee
Live, and be still a king, that thou mayest learn
What man should be to man, in war reinembering
The common tie and brotherhood of kind.
This royal tent, with such of thy domestics
As can be found, shall wait upon thy service;
Nor will I use my fortune to demand
Hard terms of peace, but such as thou mayst offer
With honour, I with honour may receive.

[Tamerlane signs to an Officer, who un-
binds Bajazet.

Baj. Ha! sayst thou-no-our prophet's vengeance blast me,

If thou shalt buy my friendship with thy empire.
Damnation on thee, thou smooth fawning talker!
Give me again my chains, that I may curse thee,
And gratify my rage: or, if thou wilt
Be a vain fool, and play with thy perdition,
Remember I'm thy foe, and hate thee deadly.
Thy folly on thy head!

Tam. Be still my foe.

Great minds, like Heaven, are pleased in doing good,

Though the ungrateful subjects of their favours
Are barren in return: thy stubborn pride,
'That spurns the gentle office of humanity,
Shall in my honour own, and thy despite,
I have done as I ought. Virtue still does
With scorn the mercenary world regard,
Where abject souls do good, and hope reward:
Above the worthless trophies men can raise,
She seeks not honours, wealth, nor airy praise,
But with herself, herself the goddess pays.

[Exeunt Tamerlane, Axalla, Prince of Tanais, Mirvan, Zuma, and Attendants. Baj. Come, lead me to my dungeon! plunge me down,

Deep from the hated sight of man and day,
Where, under covert of the friendly darkness,
My soul may brood, at leisure, o'er its anguish!
Om. Our royal master would, with noble usage,
Make your misfortunes light: he bids you hope-
Baj. I tell thee, slave, I have shook hands
with hope,

And all my thoughts are rage, despair, and horror!
Ha! wherefore am I thus ?-Perdition seize me!
But my cold blood runs shivering to my heart,
As at some phantom, that in dead of night,
With dreadful action, stalks around our beds.
The rage and fiercer passions of my breast
Are lost in new confusion.-

Arpasia!-Haly !

Enter HALY.

Ha. Oh, emperor! for whose hard fate our prophet,

And all the heroes of thy sacred race,
Are sad in paradise, thy faithful Haly,
The slave of all thy pleasures, in this ruin,
This universal shipwreck of thy fortunes,
Enter ARPASIA.

Has gathered up this treasure for thy arms:
Nor even the victor, haughty Tamerlane
(By whose command once more thy slave beholds
thee),

Denies this blessing to thee, but, with honour, Renders thee back thy queen, thy beauteous bride. Baj Oh! had her eyes, with pity, seen my sor

rows,

Had she the softness of a tender bride,
Heaven could not have bestowed a greater bless-
ing,

And love had made amends for loss of empire.
But see, what fury dwells upon her charms!
What lightning flashes from her angry eyes!
With a malignant joy she views my ruin:
Even beauteous in her hatred, still she charms

me,

And awes my fierce tumultuous soul to love.

Arp. And darest thou hope, thou tyrant! ra

visher!

That Heaven has any joy in store for thee?
Look back upon the sum of thy past life,
Where tyranny, oppression, and injustice,
Perjury, murders, swell the black account;
Where lost Arpasia's wrongs stand bleeding fresh,
Thy last recorded crime. But Heaven has found
thee;

At length the tardy vengeance has o'erta'en thee,
My weary soul shall bear a little longer
The pain of life, to call for justice on thee:
That once complete, sink to the peaceful grave,
And lose the memory of my wrongs and thee.

Baj. Thou railest! I thank thee for it-Be

Betrayed her to the Tartar; or, even worse, Pale with thy fear, didst lose her like a coward; And, like a coward now, would cast the blame On fortune and ill stars.

Mon. Ha! saidst thou like a coward? What sanctity, what majesty divine Hast thou put on, to guard thee from my rage, That thus thou darest to wrong me?

Baj. Out, thou slave, And know me for thy lord

Mon. I tell thee, tyrant,

When in the pride of power thou sat'st on high,
When like an idol thou wert vainly worshipped,
By prostrate wretches, born with slavish souls:
Even when thou wert a king, thou wert no more,
Nor greater than Moneses; born of a race
Royal, and great as thine. What art thou now,
then?

The fate of war has set thee with the lowest;
And captives (like the subjects of the grave),
Losing distinction, serve one common lord.
Baj. Braved by this dog! Now give a loose to

rage,

And curse thyself! curse thy false cheating prophet!

Ha! yet there is some revenge. Hear me, thou
Christian!

Thou leftst that sister with me: Thou impostor!
Thou boaster of thy honesty! Thou liar!
But take her to thee back.

Now to explore my prison-if it holds
Another plague like this, the restless damned
(If muftis lie not) wander thus in hell;
From scorching flames to chilling frosts they run,
Then from their frosts to fires return again,
And only prove variety of pain.

[Exeunt Bajazet and Haly. Arp. Stay, Bajazet, I charge thee by my wrongs!

Stay and unfold a tale of so much horror
As only fits thy telling. Oh, Moneses!

Mon. Why dost thou weep? Why this tem-
pestuous passion,

That stops thy faultering tongue short on my name?

Oh, speak! unveil this mystery of sorrow,
And draw the dismal scene at once to sight!
Arp. Thou art undone, lost, ruined, and un-
done!

Mon. I will not think it is so, while I have
thee;

While thus it is given to hold thee in my arms;

For while I sigh upon thy panting bosom,
The sad remeinbrance of past woes is lost.
Arp. Forbear to sooth thy soul with flattering
thoughts,

Of evils overpast, and joys to come:
Our woes are like the genuine shade beneath,
Where fate cuts off the very hopes of day,
And everlasting night and horror reign.

Mon. By all the tenderness and chaste endear

ments

Of our past love, I charge thee, my Arpasia, To ease my soul of doubts! Give me to know, At once, the utmost malice of my fate!

Arp. Take then thy wretched share in all I suffer,

Still partner of my heart! Scarce hadst thou left
The sultan's camp, when the imperious tyrant,
Softening the pride and fierceness of his temper,
With gentle speech, made offer of his love.
Amazed, as at the thought of sudden death,
I started into tears, and often urged
(Though still in vain) the difference of our faiths.
At last, as flying to the utmost refuge,
With lifted hands and streaming eyes, I owned
The fraud; which when we first were made his
prisoners,

Conscious of my unhappy form, and fearing
For thy dear life, I forced thee to put on
Thy borrowed name of brother, mine of sister;
Hiding beneath that veil the nearer tie
Our mutual vows had made before the priest.
Kindling to rage at hearing of my story,
'Then, be it so,' he cried: Thinkest thou thy

Vows,

Given to a slave, shall bar me from thy beauties?' Then bade the priest pronounce the marriagerites,

Which he performed; whilst, shrieking with despair,

I called, in vain, the powers of Heaven to aid me.
Mon. Villain! Imperial villain! Oh, the coward!
Awed by his guilt, though backed by force and
power,

He durst not, to my face, avow his purpose;
But, in my absence, like a lurking thief,
Stole on my treasure, and at once undid me.

Arp. Had they not kept me from the means
of death,

Forgetting all the rules of Christian suffering,
I had done a desperate murder on my soul,
Ere the rude slaves, that waited on his will,
Had forced me to his-

Mon. Stop thee there, Arpasia,
And bar my fancy from the guilty scene!
Let not thought enter, lest the busy mind
Should muster such a train of monstrous images,
As would distract me. Oh! I cannot bear it.
Thou lovely hoard of sweets, where all my joys
Were treasured up, to have thee rifled thus!
Thus torn untasted from my eager wishes!
But I will have thee from him. Tamerlane
(The sovereign judge of equity on earth)

Shall do me justice on this mighty robber, And render back thy beauties to Moneses.

Those distant beauties of the future state. Tell me, Arpasia-say, what joys are those

honour, The spotless whiteness of my virgin soul? Ah! no, Moneses--Think not I will ever Bring a polluted love to thy chaste arms: I am the tyrant's wife.-Oh, fatal title! And, in the sight of all the saints, have sworn, By honour, womanhood, and blushing shame, To know no second bride-bed but my grave.

Mon. I swear it must not be, since still my

Oh! tell me, and sustain my failing faith..
Arp. Imagine somewhat exquisitely fine,
Which fancy cannot paint, which the pleased
mind

Can barely know, unable to describe it;
Imagine it is a tract of endless joys,
Without satiety or interruption;

Imagine it is to meet, and part no more.
Mon. Grant, gentle Heaven, that such may be
our lot!

Let us be blest together. Oh, my soul!
Build on that hope, and let it arm thy courage,

mine,

Thy soul is mine.

Arp. O! think not, that the power
Of most persuasive eloquence can make me
Forget I have been another's, been his wife.
Now, by my blushes, by the strong confusion
And anguish of my heart, spare me, Moneses,
Nor urge my trembling virtue to the precipice.
Shortly, oh! very shortly, if my sorrows
Divine aright, and Heaven be gracious to me,
Death shall dissolve the fatal obligation,
And give me up to peace, to that blest place,
Where the good rest from care and anxious life.
Mon. Oh, teach me, thou fair saint, like thee
to suffer!

Teach me, with hardy piety, to combat
The present ills: instruct my eyes to pass
The narrow bounds of life, this land of sorrow,
And, with bold hopes, to view the realms beyond,

Arp. Yes, my Moneses! now the surges rise, The swelling sea breaks in between our barks, And drives us to our fate on different rocks. Farewell! My soul lives with thee.

Mon. Death is parting,

It is the last sad adieu 'twixt soul and body.
But this is somewhat worse-my joy, my com
fort,

All that was left in life, fleets after thee;
My aching sight hangs on thy parting beauties,
Thy lovely eyes, all drowned in floods of sorrow.
So sinks the setting sun beneath the waves,
And leaves the traveller, in pathless woods,
Benighted and forlorn-Thus, with sad eyes,
Westward he turns, to mark the light's decay,
Till, having lost the last faint glimpse of day,
Cheerless, in darkness, he pursues his way.

SCENE I.—The inside of the Royal Tent. Enter AXALLA, SELIMA, and Women Attendants. Ar. Can there be aught in love beyond this proof,

my faith?

This wondrous proof, I give thee of
To tear thee from my bleeding bosom thus !
To rend the strings of life, to set thee free,
And yield thee to a cruel father's power!
Foe to my hopes! What canst thou pay me
back,

What but thyself, thou angel! for this fondness?
Sel. Thou dost upbraid me, beggar as I am,
And urge me with my poverty of love.
Perhaps thou think'st, 'tis nothing for a maid
To struggle through the niceness of her sex,
The blushes and the fears, and own she loves.
Thou think'st 'tis nothing for my artless heart
To own my weakness, and confess thy triumph.
Ar. Oh! yes I own it; my charmed ears ne'er
knew

A sound of so much rapture, so much joy.

[Exeunt Moneses and Arpasia, severally.

Sel. Hope better for us both; nor let thy fears,

Like an unlucky omen, cross my way.
My father, rough and stormy in his nature,
To me was always gentle, and, with fondness
Paternal, ever met me with a blessing.

Oft, when offence had stirred him to such fury,
That not grave counsellors, for wisdom famed,
Nor hardy captains, that had fought his battles,
Presumed to speak, but struck with awful dread,
Were hushed as death; yet has he smiled on me,
Kissed me, and bade me utter all my purpose,
Till, with my idle prattle, I had soothed him,
And won him from his anger.

Ax. Oh! I know

Thou hast a tongue to charm the wildest tempers.

Herds would forget to graze, and savage beasts Stand still and lose their fierceness, but to hear thee,

As if they had reflection, and by reason
Forsook a less enjoyment for a greater.
But, oh! when I revolve each circumstance,
My Christian faith, my service closely bound
To Tamerlane, my master, and my friend,
Tell me, my charmer, if my fears are vain?
Think what remains for me, if the fierce sultan
Should doom thy beauties to another's bed!
Sel. 'Tis a sad thought: but to appease thy
doubts,

Here, in the awful sight of Heaven, I vow
No power shall e'er divide me from thy love,
Even duty shall not force me to be false.
My cruel stars may tear thee from my arms,
But never from my heart; and when the maids
Shall yearly come with garlands of fresh flowers,
To mourn with pious office o'er my grave,
They shall sit sadly down, and weeping tell
How well I loved, how much I suffered for thee:
And while they grieve my fate, shall praise my
constancy.

-My beat

Ar. But see, the sultan comes!ing heart Bounds with exulting motion; hope and fear Fight with alternate conquest in my breast. Oh! can I give her from me? Yield her up? Now mourn, thou god of love, since honour triumphs,

And crowns his cruel altars with thy spoils.
Enter BAJAZET.

Baj. To have a nauseous courtesy forced on
me,

Spite of my will, by an insulting foe!

Ha! they would break the fierceness of my temper,

And make me supple for their slavish purpose. Curse on their fawning arts! From Heaven itself

I would not, on such terms, receive a benefit,
But spurn it back upon the giver's hand.

[Selima comes forward, and kneels to Bajazet.
VOL. I.

Sel. My lord! my royal father!
Baj. Ha! what art thou?

What heavenly innocence! that in a form
So known, so loved, hast left thy paradise,
For joyless prison, for this place of woe!
Art thou my Selima ?

Sel. Have you forgot me? Alas, my piety is then in vain! Your Selima, your daughter whom you loved, The fondling once of her dear father's arms, Is come to claim her share in his misfortunes; To wait and tend him with obsequious duty; To sit, and weep for every care he feels; To help to wear the tedious minutes out, To soften bondage, and the loss of empire.

Baj. Now, by our prophet, if my wounded mind Could know a thought of peace, it would be now! Even from thy prating infancy thou wert My joy, my little angel; smiling comfort Came with thee, still to glad me.

cursed

Now I'm

Even in thee too. Reproach and infamy
Attend the Christian dog, to whom thou wert

trusted!

To see thee here-'twere better see thee dead!
Ar. Thus Tamerlane, to royal Bajazet,
With kingly greeting sends; since with the brave
(The bloody business of the fight once ended)
Stern hate and opposition ought to cease;
Thy queen already to thy arms restored,
Receive this second gift, thy beauteous daughter;
And if there be aught farther in thy wish,
Demand with honour, and obtain it freely.

Baj. Bear back thy fulsome greeting to thy

master;

Tell him, I'll none of it. Had he been a god,
All his omnipotence could not restore
My fame diminished, loss of sacred honour,
The radiancy of majesty eclipsed:
For aught besides, it is not worth my care;
The giver and his gifts are both beneath me.

Ar. Enough of war the wounded earth has

known; Weary at length, and wasted with destruction, Sadly she rears her ruined head, to shew Her cities humbled, and her countries spoiled, And to her mighty masters sues for peace. Oh, sultan! by the Power divine I swear, With joy I would resign the savage trophies In blood and battle gained, could I atone The fatal breach 'twixt thee and Tamerlane ; And think a soldier's glory well bestowed To buy mankind a peace.

Baj. And what art thou,

That dost presume to mediate 'twixt the rage
Of angry kings?

Ar. A prince, born of the noblest,
And of a soul that answers to that birth,
That dares not but do well. Thou dost put on
A forced forgetfulness, thus not to know me,
A guest so lately to thy court, then meeting
On gentler terms.-

Kk

Sel. Could aught efface the merit
Of brave Axalla's name, yet when your daughter
Shall tell how well, how nobly she was used,
How light this gallant prince made all her bond-
age,

Most sure the royal Bajazet will own
That honour stands indebted to such goodness,
Nor can a monarch's friendship more than pay it.
Baj. Ha! know'st thou that, fond girl? Go
-'tis not well,

And when thou couldst descend to take a benefit
From a vile Christian, and thy father's foe,
Thou didst an act dishonest to thy race:
Henceforth, unless thou mean'st to cancel all
My share in thee, and write thyself a bastard,
Die, starve, know any evil, any pain,
Rather than taste a mercy from these dogs.
Sel. Alas! Axalla!

Ar. Weep not, lovely maid!

I swear, one pearly drop from those fair eyes
Would over-pay the service of my life!
One sigh from thee has made a large amends
For all thy angry father's frowns and fierceness.
Baj. Oh, my curst fortune!-Am I fallen thus
low!

Dishonoured to my face! Thou earth-born thing!
Thou clod! how hast thou dared to lift thy eyes
Up to the sacred race of mighty Ottoman,
Whom kings, whom even our prophet's holy off-
spring

At distance have beheld? And what art thou?
What glorious titles blazon out thy birth?
Thou vile obscurity! ha!-say-thou base one.
Ar. Thus challenged, virtue, modest as she is,
Stands up to do herself a common justice;
To answer, and assert that inborn merit,
That worth, which conscious to herself she feels.
Were honour to be scanned by long descent,
From ancestors illustrious, I could vaunt
A lineage of the greatest, and recount,
Among my fathers, names of ancient story,
Heroes and god-like patriots, who subdued
The world by arms and virtue, and, being Romans,
Scorned to be kings; but that be their own praise:
Nor will I borrow merit from the dead,
Myself an undeserver. I could prove

My friendship such, as thou mightest deign to accept

With honour, when it comes with friendly office, To render back thy crown, and former greatness; And yet even this, even all is poor, when Selima, With matchless worth, weighs down the adverse scale.

Baj. To give me back what yesterday took

from me,

Would be to give like Heaven, when having finished

This world (the goodly work of his creation),
He bid his favourite man be lord of all.
But this-

Ar. Nor is this gift beyond my power.
Oft has the mighty master of my arms

Urged me, with large ambition, to demand
Crowns and dominions from his bounteous power:
'Tis true, I waved the proffer, and have held it.
The worther choice to wait upon his virtues,
To be the friend and partner of his wars,
Than to be Asia's lord. Nor wonder then,
If, in the confidence of such a friendship,
I promise boldly for the royal giver,
Thy crown and empire.

Baj. For our daughter thus

Meanest thou to barter? Ha! I tell thee, Christian,

There is but one, one dowry thou canst give,
And I can ask, worthy my daughter's love.
Ax. Oh! name the mighty ransom; task my

With a vile peace, patched up on slavish terms?
With tributary kingship?No!-To merit
A recompence from me, sate my revenge.
The Tartar is my bane, I cannot bear him:
One heaven and earth can never hold us both;
Still shall we hate, and with defiance deadly
Keep rage alive, till one be lost for ever;
As if two suns should meet in the meridian,
And strive, in fiery combat, for the passage.
Weep'st thou, fond girl? Now, as thy king, and
father,

I charge thee, drive this slave from thy remembrance!

Hate shall be pious in thee. Come, and join [Laying hold on her hand.

To curse thy father's foes.

Sel. Undone for ever!
Now, tyrant duty, art thou yet obeyed?
There is no more to give thee. Oh, Axalla!

[Bajazet leads out Selima, she looking

back on Aralla.

Ax. 'Twas what I feared; fool that I was to obey!

The coward, Love, that could not bear her frown,
Has wrought his own undoing. Perhaps e'en now
The tyrant's rage prevails upon her fears:
Fiercely he storms: she weeps, and sighs, and
trembles,

But swears at length to think on me no more.
He bade me take her. But, oh, gracious honour!
Upon what terms? My soul yet shudders at it,
And stands but half recovered of her fright.
The head of Tamerlane! monstrous impiety!
Bleed, bleed to death, my heart, be virtue's mar-
tyr.