Shifting the prize in unresolving hands;
Unused to wait, I broke through her delay,
Fixed her by force, and snatched the doubtful
day.

Now late I find that war is but her sport;

In love the goddess keeps her awful court; Fickle in fields, unsteadily she flies,

But rules with settled sway in Zara's eyes.

[Exeunt,

SCENE I.-Representing the Aisle of a Temple.

GARCIA, HELI, PEREZ.

Gar. This way, we're told, Osmyn was seen to walk;

Chusing this lonely mansion of the dead,
To mourn, brave Heli, thy mistaken fate.

Heli. Let Heaven with thunder to the centre strike me,

If to arise in very deed from death,
And to revisit, with my long-closed eyes,
This living light, could to my soul or sense
Afford a thought, or shew a glimpse of joy,
In least proportion to the vast delight
I feel, to hear of Osmyn's name; to hear
That Osmyn lives, and I again shall see him.
Gar. I've heard, with admiration, of your
friendship.

Per. Yonder, my lord, behold the noble Moor.
Heli. Where? Where?

Gar. I saw him not, nor any like him——
Per. I saw him when I spoke, thwarting my view,
And striding with distempered haste; his eyes
Seemed flame, and flashed upon me with a glance;
Then forward shot their fires which he pursued,
As to some object frightful, yet not feared.

Gar. Let's haste to follow him, and know the

cause.

Heli. My lord, let me entreat you to forbear: Leave me alone, to find and cure the cause. I know his melancholy, and such starts Are usual to his temper. It might raise him To act some violence upon himself, So to be caught in an unguarded hour, And when his soul gives all her passion way, Secure and loose in friendly solitude. I know his noble heart would burst with shame, To be surprised by strangers in its frailty.

Gar. Go, generous Heli, and relieve your friend.

Far be it from me officiously to pry
Or press upon the privacies of others.

[Exit HELI.

Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA.

Alm. It was a fancied noise, for all is hushed. Leon. It bore the accent of a human voice. Alm. It was thy fear, or else some transient wind

Whistling through hollows of this vaulted aisle. We'll listen

Leon. Hark!

Alm. No, all is hushed, and still as death—'tis dreadful!

How reverend is the face of this tall pile,
Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,
To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof,
By its own weight made stedfast and immoveable,
Looking tranquillity. It strikes an awe
And terror on my aching sight; the tombs
And monumental caves of death look cold,
And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart.
Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice;
Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear
Thy voice-my own affrights me with its echoes.
Leon. Let us return; the horror of this place,
And silence, will increase your melancholy.

Alm. It may my fears, but cannot add to that.
No, I will on; shew me Anselmo's tomb,
Lead me o'er bones and skulls, and mouldering

earth,

Of human bodies; for I'll mix with them,
Or wind me in the shroud of some pale corpse,
Yet green in earth, rather than be the bride
Of Garcia's more detested bed: that thought
Exerts my spirits, and my present fears
Are lost in dread of greater ill. Then shew me,
Lead me, for I am bolder grown: lead on
Where I may kneel, and pay my vows again,
To him, to Heaven, and my Alphonso's soul.
Leon. I go; but Heaven can tell with what re-
gret.
[Exeunt.

Enter HELI.

Heli. I wander through this maze of monu

ments,

Yet cannot find him-Hark! sure 'tis the voice Of one complaining-There it sounds !—I'll fol low it. (Erit.

SCENE II.-Opening, discovers a place of Tombs: one Monument, fronting the view, greater than the rest.

Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA. Leon. Behold the sacred vault, within whose womb

The poor remains of good Anselmo rest,
Yet fresh and unconsumed by time or worms.
What do I see? Oh, Heaven! either my eyes
Are false, or still the marble door remains
Unclosed; the iron gates, that lead to death
Beneath, are still wide stretched upon their hinge,
And staring on us with unfolded leaves !

Alm. Sure 'tis the friendly yawn of death for

me;

And that dumb mouth, significant in show,
Invites me to the bed, where I alone

Shall rest; shews me the grave, where nature, weary

And long oppressed with woes and bending cares,
May lay the burthen down, and sink in slumbers
Of peace eternal. Death, grim death, will fold
Me in his leaden arms, and press me close
To his cold clayey breast: My father, then,
Will cease his tyranny; and Garcia, too,
Will fly my pale deformity with loathing.
My soul, enlarged from its vile bonds, will mount,
And range the starry orbs, and milky-ways,
Of that refulgent world, where I shall swim
In liquid light, and float, on seas of bliss,
To my Alphonso's soul. Oh, joy too great!
Oh, ecstacy of thought! Help me, Anselmo;
Help me, Alphonso; take me, reach thy hand;
To thee, to thee I call; to thee, Alphonso:
Oh, Alphonso!

OSMYN ascending from the tomb.

Osm. Who calls that wretched thing that was Alphonso?

Alm. Angels, and all the host of heaven, support me!

Osm. Whence is that voice, whose shrillness, from the grave,

And growing to his father's shroud, roots up
Alphonso?

hide me,

Alm. Mercy! Providence! Oh, speak, Speak to it quickly, quickly; speak to me, Comfort me, help me, hold me, hide me, Leonora, in thy bosom, from the light, And from my eyes!

Osm. Amazement and illusion! Rivet and nail me where I stand, ye powers, [Coming forward. That, motionless, I may be still deceived! Let me not stir, nor breathe, lest I dissolve That tender, lovely form of painted air, So like Almeria. Ha! it sinks, it falls; I'll catch it ere it goes, and grasp her shade! 'Tis life! 'tis warm! 'tis she, 'tis she herself! Nor dead, nor shade, but breathing and alive! It is Almeria, it is my wife!

Osm. Where is she!

Let me behold, and touch her, and be sure
'Tis she; shew me her face, and let me feel
Her lips with mine-'Tis she, I am not deceived;
I taste her breath, I warm her and am warmed.
Look up, Almeria, bless me with thy eyes;
Look on thy love, thy lover, and thy husband!
Alm. I have sworn I'll not wed Garcia: why
do ye force me?

Is this a father?

Osm. Look on thy Alphonso.

Thy father is not here, my love, nor Garcia:
Nor am I what I seem, but thy Alphonso.
Wilt thou not know me? Hast thou then forgot
me?

Hast thou thy eyes, yet canst not see Alphonso?
Am I so altered, or art thou so changed,
That, seeing my disguise, thou seest not me?

Alm. It is, it is Alphonso! 'tis his face,
His voice-I know him now, I know him all.
Oh, take me to thy arms, and bear me hence,
Back to the bottom of the boundless deep,
To seas beneath, where thou so long hast dwelt.
Oh, how hast thou returned? How hast thou
charmed

The wildness of the waves and rocks to this; That, thus relenting, they have given thee back To earth, to light and life, to love and me?

Osm. Oh, I'll not ask, nor answer, how or why We both have backward trod the paths of fate, To meet again in life; to know I have thee, Is knowing more than any circumstance, Or means, by which I have theeTo fold thee thus, to press thy balmy lips, And gaze upon thy eyes, is so much joy, I have not leisure to reflect, or know, Or trifle time in thinking.

Alm. Stay a while――

Let me look on thee yet a little more. Osm. What would'st thou? thou dost put me from thee.

No more, my life; talk not of tears or grief;
Affliction is no more, now thou art found.
Why dost thou weep, and hold thee from my

arms,

My arms which ache to hold thee fast, and grow To thee with twining? Come, come to my heart! Alm. I will, for I should never look enough. They would have married me; but I had sworn To leaven and thee, and sooner would have died

Osm. Perfection of all faithfulness and love! Alm. Indeed I would-Nay, I would tell thee all,

If I could speak; how I have mourned and prayed:

For I have prayed to thee, as to a saint;
And thou hast heard my prayer; for thou art

come

To my distress, to my despair, which Heaven
Could only, by restoring thee, have cured.
Osm. Grant me but life, good Heaven, but
length of days,

To pay some part, some little of this debt,
This countless sum of tenderness and love,
For which I stand engaged to this all-excellence;
Then bear me in a whirlwind to my fate,
Snatch me from life, and cut me short un-
warned:

Then, then, 'twill be enough-I shall be old,
I shall have passed all æras then

Of

yet unmeasured time; when I have made This exquisite, this-most amazing goodness, Some recompence of love and matchless truth. Alm. 'Tis more than recompence to see thy face:

If Heaven is greater joy, it is no happiness,
For 'tis not to be borne-What shall I say?
I have a thousand things to know and ask,
And speak―That thou art here beyond all hope,
All thought; and all at once thou art before me,
And with such suddenness hast hit my sight,
Is such surprise, such mystery, such extasy,
It hurries all my soul, and stuns my sense.
Sure from thy father's tomb thou didst arise?
Osm. I did; and thou, my love, didst call me;
thou.

Alm. True; but how cam'st thou there? Wert
thou alone?

Osm. I was, and lying on my father's lead,
When broken echoes of a distant voice
Disturbed the sacred silence of the vault,
In murmurs round my head. I rose and lis-
tened,

And thought I heard thy spirit call Alphonso;
I thought I saw thee too; but, Oh, I thought

not

That I indeed should be so blest to see thee
Alm. But still, how cam'st thou thither? How
thus?--Ha!

What's he, who, like thyself, is started here
Ere seen?

Osm. Where? Ha! What do I see, Antonio! I am fortunate indeed-my friend, too, safe!

Heli. Most happily, in finding you thus blessed. Alm. More miracles! Antonio escaped!

happiness.

Harbour no thought that may disturb thy peace;
But gently take thyself away, lest she
Should come, and see the straining of my eyes
To follow thee.

Retire, my love, I'll think how we may meet
To part no more; my friend will tell thee all;
How I escaped, how I am here, and thus;
How I am not called Alphonso now, but Osmyn;
And he Heli. All, all he will unfold,
Ere next we meet--

Alm. Sure we shall meet again

Osm. We shall; we part not but to meet

again.

Gladness and warmth of ever-kindling love
Dwell with thee, and revive thy heart in absence!
[Exeunt ALM. LEON. and HELI.
Yet I behold her-yet-and now no more.
Turn your lights inward, eyes, and view my
thoughts,

So shall you still behold her-'twill not be.
Oh, impotence of sight! Mechanic sense!
Which to exterior objects ow'st thy faculty,
Not seeing of election, but necessity.
Thus do our eyes, as do all common mirrors,
Successively reflect succeeding images:
Not what they would, but must; a star, or
toad;

Just as the hand of chance administers.
Not so the mind, whose undetermined view
Resolves, and to the present adds the past,
Essaying farther to futurity;

But that in vain. I have Almeria here
At once, as I before have seen her often-

Enter ZARA and SELIM.

Zara. See where he stands, folded and fixed
to earth,

Stiff'ning in thought, a statue among statues !-
Why, cruel Osmyn, dost thou fly me thus?
Is it well done? Is this, then, the return
For fame, for honour, and for empire lost?
But what is loss of honour, fame, and empire?
Is this the recompence reserved for love?
Why dost thou leave my eyes, and fly my arms,
To find this place of horror and obscurity?
Am I more loathsome to thee than the grave,
That thou dost seek to shield thee there, and
shun

My love? But to the grave I'll follow thee-
He looks not, minds not, hears not! barbarous
man!

Am I neglected thus! Am I despised!
Not heard! Ungrateful Osmyn!

Osm. Ha, 'tis Zara!

Zara. Yes, traitor; Zara, lost, abandoned Zara,
Is a regardless suppliant now, to Osmyn.
The slave, the wretch that she redeemed from
death,

Disdains to listen now, or look on Zara.
Osm. Far be the guilt of such reproaches from

me;

Lost in myself, and blinded by my thoughts,
I saw you not till now.

Zara. Now then you see me

But with such dumb and thankless eyes you look, Better I was unseen, than seen thus coldly.

Osm. What would you from a wretch who came to mourn,

And only for his sorrows chose this solitude? Look round; joy is not here, nor cheerfulness. You have pursued misfortune to its dwelling, Yet look for gaiety and gladness there.

Zara. Inhuman! Why, why dost thou rack me thus,

And, with perverseness, from the purpose answer?

What is it to me, this house of misery?
What joy do I require? if thou dost mourn,
I come to mourn with thee, to share thy griefs,
And give thee, for them, in exchange, my love.
Osm. Oh! that's the greatest grief-I am so

Compassion! scarce will it own that name, so

soon,

So quickly, was it love; for thou wert godlike
Even then. Kneeling on earth, I loosed my hair,
And with it dried thy watery cheeks, then chafed
Thy temples, till reviving blood arose,

And, like the morn, vermillioned o'er thy face.
Oh, Heaven! how did my heart rejoice and ache,
When I beheld the day-break of thy eyes,
And felt the balm of thy respiring lips!

Osm. Oh, call not to my mind what you have done;

It sets a debt of that account before me, Which shews me poor and bankrupt even in hopes.

Zara. The faithful Selim, and my women,

know

The danger which I tempted to conceal you.
You know how I abused the credulous king;
What arts I used to make you pass on him,
When he received you as the prince of Fez,
And, as my kinsman, honoured and advanced you.
Oh! why do I relate what I have done?
What did I not? Was't not for you this war
Commenced? Not knowing who you were, nor
why

You hated Manuel, I urged my husband
To this invasion; where he late was lost,
Where all is lost, and I am made a slave.
Look on me now; from empire fallen to slavery;
Think on my sufferings first, then look on me;
Think on the cause of all, then view thyself:
Reflect on Osmyn, and then look on Żara,
The fallen, the lost, and now the captive Zara,
And now abandoned-Say, what then is Os-
myn?

Osm. A fatal wretch-A huge, stupendous ruin, That, tumbling on its prop, crushed all beneath, And bore contiguous palaces to earth.

Zara. Yet thus, thus fallen, thus levelled with the vilest,

If I have gained thy love, 'tis glorious ruin;
Ruin! 'tis still to reign, and to be more
A queen; for what are riches, empire, power,
But larger means to gratify the will?
The steps on which we tread, to rise and reach
Our wish; and that obtained, down with the
scaffolding

Of sceptres, crowns, and thrones; they've serv'd their end,

And are,

like lumber, to be left and scorned. Osm. Why was I made the instrument, to throw In bonds the frame of this exalted mind!

Zara. We may be free; the conqueror is mine; In chains unseen I hold him by the heart, And can unwind or strain him as I please. Give me thy love, I'll give thee liberty.

Osm. In vain you offer, and in vain require, What neither can bestow. Set free yourself, And leave a slave the wretch that would be so. Zara. Thou canst not mean so poorly as thou talk'st.

Osm. Alas! You know me not.

Zara. Not who thou art:

But what this last ingratitude declares,

This grovelling baseness-Thou say'st true, I know

Thee not; for what thou art yet wants a name;
But something so unworthy and so vile,
That to have loved thee makes me yet more lost
Than all the malice of my other fate.
Traitor, monster, cold, and perfidious slave!
A slave not daring to be free, nor dares
To love above him; for 'tis dangerous.
"Tis that, I know; for thou dost look, with eyes
Sparkling desire, and trembling to possess.
I know my charms have reached thy very soul,
And thrilled thee through with darted fires; but
thou

Dost fear so much, thou darʼst not wish. The
king!
There, there's the dreadful sound! The king's
thy rival!

Sel. Madam, the king is here, and entering

now.

Zara. As I could wish; by Heaven, I'll be revenged.

Enter the KING, PEREZ, and Attendants. King. Why does the fairest of her kind withdraw

Her shining from the day, to gild this scene
Of death and night? Ha! what disorder's this?
Somewhat I heard of king and rival mentioned.
What's he that dares be rival to the king,
Or lift his eyes to like where I adore?

Zara. There, he, your prisoner, and that was my slave.

King. How? better than my hopes! Does she accuse him? [Aside.

Zara. Am I become so low by my captivity, And do your arms so lessen what they conquer, That Zara must be made the sport of slaves? And shall the wretch, whom yester sun beheld Waiting my nod, the creature of my power, Presume to-day to plead audacious love, And build bold hopes on my dejected fate? King. Better for him to tempt the rage of Heaven,

And wrench the bolt red-hissing from the hand Of him that thunders, than but to think that insolence.

'Tis daring for a god. Hence to the wheel
With that Ixion, who aspires to hold
Divinity embraced: to whips and prisons
Drag him with speed, and rid me of his face.

[Guards seize OSMYN, and exeunt. Zara. Compassion led me to bemoan his state, Whose former faith had merited much more: And, through my hopes in you, I undertook He should be set at large; thence sprung his insolence,

And what was charity, he construed love.
King. Enough; his punishment be what you

please.

But let me lead you from this place of sorrow,
To one where young delights attend, and joys,
Yet new, unborn, and blooming in the bud,
Which wait to be full-blown at your approach,
And spread, like roses, to the morning sun:
Where every hour shall roll in circling joys,
And love shall wing the tedious wasting day.
Life, without love, is load; and time stands still:
What we refuse to him, to death we give;
And then, then only, when we love, we live.
[Exeunt.

'Be doubled in thy mercies to my son! 'Not for myself, but him, hear me, all-gracious'Tis wanting what should follow-Heaven should follow;

But 'tis torn off-Why should that word alone
Be torn from this petition? 'Twas to Heaven,
But Heaven was deaf, Heaven heard him not;
but thus,

Thus as the name of Heaven from this is torn,
So did it tear the ears of mercy from
His voice, shutting the gates of prayer against
him.

If piety be thus debarred access
On high, and of good men the very best
Is singled out to bleed, and bear the scourge,
What is reward? Or what is punishment?
But who shall dare to tax eternal justice!
Yet I may think I may, I must; for thought
Precedes the will to think, and error lives
Ere reason can be born. Reason, the power
To guess at right and wrong, the twinkling lamp
Of wandering life, that winks and wakes by

turns,