[A court in the castle. Enter Abdallah and Orasmyn.]
Abdallah
When wilt thou learn, my son, to guard thy heart,
Which speaks but too expressively by glances?
—I would not wish the council to discern
They but propose our pleasure.—
Orasmyn
Pray you, pardon,
If ardent nature stifles feebler reason.
—Could I behold Almeyda, and restrain
This glow of transport, ne'er could I deserve
The bliss our prophet promises the faithful.
—No, not himself, though Heav'n inspir'd, ere fancied
So exquisite a beauty! Yet that charm,
Nature's prime gift to woman, in Almeyda
Is lost—absorpt in mind!—
Abdallah
Check not thy transport;
For tho' to others I would have thee silent,
To me be wholly frank; and thus reward me
For all my anxious, fond solicitude,
Thro' many a long, long year. I own, I fear'd
That haughtiness, ill-suited to her years,
Would strike thee with displeasure.
Orasmyn
Call not thus
The sacred consciousness that waits on beauty,
And awes the wishes it awakes! I ever
Disdain'd our narrow laws, which make the sex
Domestic, artificial beings merely.—
—No! 'tis a character refin'd, decided,
That greatly charms the soul, and charms for ever!
—Why knew I not before she was unequall'd?
Abdallah
[smiling scarcastically.]
Perchance ev'n now I know it not; yet hear
These youthful flights well pleas'd: for thus each lover
Adorns his fancy's choice.
Orasmyn.
But who can boast
A choice like mine? Nor did ev'n I suspect,
Indulgent Heav'n in prodigality,
Had center'd all perfection in one woman.—
I came prepar'd by rigid rules to judge her—
Her before whom all rules, all modes, must vanish!
—For, oh! when first my eyes beheld the queen,
My heart avow'd her empire ere my tongue.
I wond'ring gaz'd! and, gazing more, more wonder'd!
Ethereal loveliness informs her frame,
And beams in living glory from her eyes!
Yet o'er these charms sublime, meek modesty
Draws a transparent veil of wand'ring graces,
As fleecy clouds flit o'er the noonday sun,
And leave us opportunity to gaze,
Upon an orb too bright else for beholding!
Abdallah
I could grow once again a boy to hear thee—
Graces I could perceive—not perfect beauty—
Orasmyn
Beauty's an indeterminate idea
Till fix'd by love—whose ever-pow'rful magic
Awakens a new being—love, when heav'n
Leaves to the vulgar sense its work imperfect,
Illumes our sight to trace the angel there.
—Thro' love we share our Maker's great prerogative,
Creating ev'ry charm, and then approving!
—Yet when she spoke, I half forgot her beauty—
Oh! with what melting harmony, she won
The very air to silence; no rude breath
Dar'd blend with her's, but nature's self stood hush'd
Awe-struck, ev'n as Orasmyn—
Abdallah
Be warn'd in time
Against a rev'rence so profound; for women
(Capricious still and wayward) often scorn
Who grasps with trembling hand the fancied fetter;
While with distinguishing regard, they view
The bolder man, who wears it as an ornament.
Orasmyn [disdainfully.]
How should this gen'ral censure touch Almeyda?
Abdallah
Nay then thou lov'st indeed if thou hast found
Already she is peerless—I have done—
E'en win her thy own way; but win her quickly.
To match thee with Almeyda, and exalt thee
To empire in her right, has been I own
The object of my life—nor should I think
That life itself too dear to crown my purpose.
—In the bold outline of my policy,
I heeded not, 'tis true, the glowing colours
Fond fancy gives her fav'rites—yet those tints
Complete life's picture well—to see thee great
Was all I ask'd but to behold thee happy
Leaves me without a wish!
Orasmyn
Still in this,
As in each incident of various life,
I owe much to my father! yet for once
This heart asserts a right to guide itself—
Nor would obtrude too early on Almeyda,
A passion she might doubt.—
Abdallah.
Again thou err'st—
But could'st thou win my judgment to approve
This idle scruple, it were now too late.—
The Council know my thoughts, and have ere this
Propos'd thee to the Queen.
Orasmyn
Presumptuous!—rash!—
Abdallah.
Judicious rather!—see'st thou not the prudence
To bind her to compliance, ere she knows
The pow'r, the pride, the pleasure of dominion?
Orasmyn
But what can bind the heart, save its own choice?
I would have woo'd her with watchful eyes,
Such unremitting tender, prompt, affection,
As might have won her of herself, and crown'd
The future days of both with happiness.
—Oh! never let ambition tie the knot,
Pure love alone can hallow!
Abdallah
Would 'twere tied,
Tho' all this wooing follow'd—son, I tell thee,
Essential is the diff'rence of her state,
Immured within this castle, where I reign—
While thou without maintain'st a like controul,
And an obsequious council speak our will,
To the elation of unbounded pow'r,
The sweets of flatt'ry, and the charm of fondness,
The glowing grace of popularity!—
Almeyda wants not shrewdness soon to learn,
If she would see Granada, she must wed thee.
Orasmyn [turning sorrwfully from
him.]
More changeable than are the vernal clouds,
Which borrow heav'n's own hues one hour to charm us,
And ere the next burst in a gloomy deluge,
Is the fond happiness a lover fancies!
—Oh, I do fear me, mine is gone already!
Did she not bear an elevated mind,
She might unconscious share a common fate
And so perhaps might I—content to lose
Our lives in apathy, and call it duty.
—But well Almeyda knows the rights of sex,
Of rank, and all the heart's refined distinctions
Nor did she meet in mine one uncongenial.
—Pardon, my Lord, those vain regrets—I'll quell
them,
And once more wait thee.
[Exit.]
Abdallah
It is ever so,
Still in fruition are our wishes punished.
—Orasmyn, I would have thee wed thy cousin,
But why this adoration?—when I see her,
The spirits of the dead arise before me,
And wither all my projects, all my pow'rs!
—Wherefore should man invent a hell hereafter?
Alas! guilt makes one here! and he who sins,
Tho' never mortal eye, or voice reprove him,
Finds in his bosom every fiend that peoples
The dark profound—in her I see her brothers—
Yet must she be Orasmyn's bride, or—nothing.
[Exit.]
Scene 2
[The apartment of the Queen. Enter Almeyda, followed by Abra.]
Almeyda
Are these the charms of empire? Have we pow'r
To give that happiness, we ne'er must know?
—The meanest slave attending on our person,
Makes her heart's free election, and adorns
With life's first charm a poor, and vulgar home!
—While rank, that splendid misery to woman,
Enchains us to the car of victor man;
And barterd now by policy, now honor,
We buy an enemy, or we fix a friend!
—Marry Orasmyn—no ambitious uncle;
Nor he, nor thou, shall thus controul my will,
Nor ev'n your instrument the servile council.
—I was devoted thus—allotted—wedded—
Giv'n, like the mere incumbrance of my crown,
E'er yet I wore it—tell me gentle maid,
(For all can tell me of my wayward fate
More than I know myself) was I not giv'n,
Long since to this young Prince?
Abra
Gracious lady,
So much your people tender Prince Orasmyn,
They much desire the union—
Almeyda
Then Orasmyn,
And his more crafty father, have seduced
My people from their duty.—
Abra
Dare I add,
Since youth's fair promise ripen'd into manhood,
Orasmyn still has ris'n in fame, in virtue!
Your friends all love—your enemies all fear him.
Almeyda [sighing.]
And so e'er long may I—
Abra
Oh! do not wrong him!—
Ne'er has the Prince disgraced your own great lineage
By one invidious, sordid, selfish, action.
He feels a brave contempt of mortal praise,
Ev'n with a mighty av'rice of desert—
To him the faulty fly, secure to find
Th'indulgence he requires not—while the wretched
Freely demand his pity and protection—
—His gifts forerun his promise.
Almeyda.
[disdainfully.]
Well thou speak'st it!
Abra
Believe me, madam, when you better know him,
I shall be but your echo. In my eyes,
(And can I give the prince a nobler praise?)
In character, as features he is like you.
Almeyda
Indeed, I own, I see not the resemblance,
And, but for vanity, should call thee partial.
Abra
Yet am I merely just—Though were I more,
In me it would be gratitude. My brother
Owes to Orasmyn a distinguish'd fortune—
Almeyda
He meanly, therefore, plac'd thee near our person,
A busy advocate.—Retire, and leave me.
[Exit Abra.]
I am environ'd by such
sycophants—
And unobserv'd can scarcely breathe a sigh!
Thinks he by little arts like these to win me?
—No! were my heart not wholly thine, Alonzo,
Th'aspiring, selfish lover, ne'er should gain it.
—Yet much I dread Abdallah. On his brow
Lives a black penetration, which deep-pierces
Thro' virtue's thin and variable complexion,
Extracting oft, in blushes, the soul's meaning.
—Ah, wherefore breaks he on me?
[Enter Abdallah.]
Abdallah
Sweet Almeyda!
Swift are the feet of those who bear glad tidings.
Already hath the council's wise proposal,
—Already hath thy gracious silence reach'd me.—
—Blest beyond fathers, in a son, 'tis thou,
Thou only, who canst bless me with a daughter!
Almeyda
Silence, my lord, implies not a decision.—
Born in affliction, and in slav'ry nurtur'd—
The world, and all its ways, to me unknown,
I must have time to learn the needful science.
Abdallah
Thou shalt escape the deep, laborious study;
Enjoy the sweets of life, with care unmix'd;
Become at once the idol of Orasmyn,
And of a joyful people!
Almeyda
I want fancy,
To tinge the picture with so rich a colour.
—Rais'd on a sudden to a fearful height,
I view, uncertain which to chuse, the paths
That wind around me in the world's vast maze.
Abdallah
Orasmyn's hand will guide—his heart sustain thee.
—Would I were not his sire! for then, Almeyda,
I might unblushing dwell upon his merits;
Number the virtues, that from reason's dawn,
Found in his heart their home, while, true to glory,
He, with unequall'd fame, hath fought—hath conquer'd!
Almeyda
—Orasmyn's merits, time, my lord, will teach me.
—
Seek not at once to snatch me from myself.
—Were I to wed, while hardly yet enfranchis'd,
'Twould mark a latent weakness in my nature,
Or a determin'd selfishness in thine.
Abdallah
Ay; were thy spouse ignoble—unbelov'd.
But with my son, dishonour ne'er was nam'd!
He was thy father's choice—his eye's last object.
When life receded fast, he call'd Orasmyn;
Then, with parental fondness, wrung his hand,
And charg'd him to entender his Almeyda.—
—Me he conjured to see his will obey'd,
And guard you both.—
Almeyda
Alas! so well to guard us!
As may complete thy will no less than his. [aside.]
Kings can give crowns, my lord, and sires commands,
Yet nature sometimes gives the heart a pow'r
To rest self-poiz'd, ev'n as the globe we tread on,
Dependent on no breath but our Creator's.
Abdallah [fiercely.]
Yet man incens'd, on this wide globe can spread
A ruin nature shrinks from; stain her blooms
With human blood, and load the vernal gales
With groans but mock'd by winter's rudest howlings.
Nay, start not, princess! 'tis thyself has taught me
To threat by implication.
Almeyda
Savage tyrant!
Victoria! oh, Victoria! well thou spok'st him. [aside.]
Abdallah
But see, thy lover! And at his approach
My swelling heart o'erflows with tenderness!
How could I cherish, worship, love Almeyda,
Would she but deign alike to bend her nature!
Orasmyn [entering, kneels.]
Say, will my sov'reign pardon, if I press
Unlicens'd on her leisure; break thro' forms
Cold hearts impos'd, to level with themselves
More gen'rous natures, thus again to tender
A homage circles never knew to pay—
A vow imprinted here?
Almeyda
Orasmyn, rise!
The pageant's o'er; and this devotion, mock'ry.
Orasmyn
If to behold Almeyda, and adore her;
To see in fancy's eye the world created,
And, in herself, the first, the only woman;
In each new glance to find a nameless charm,
And in each sigh to breathe a new infection:
If this offend, ah, who shall gain her favour?
Almeyda
A flame at once so prudent and so sudden
Confided to the council, ere its object,
May well surprize—
Orasmyn
Forgive the interruption—
And know, Almeyda! hardly wouldst thou scorn
Such intervention, more than would Orasmyn.
—Yet, by thy own pure nature, deign to judge
Of his before thee! sanction but his service;
Allow him time to win upon thy favour,
And, by the holy warmth that prompts the vow,
Thy will shall guide him!
Almeyda
Wherefore trust to time?
This moment stamps the passion and its motive.
—I would like you be guarded, prudent, selfish;
Preserve a silence might ensure my safety,
And rest upon the future.—But my soul
Disdains the mean, the temporising wisdom,
Nor knows to tremble in the cause of truth.
—Vie with me, princes, in sincerity!
Hence with inflated phrase! and plainly say,
It is my diadem, not me, you woo.
Abdallah
Were that Orasmyn's object, he might wear it.
Who shall oppose his will? A feeble woman!
Of little estimation in society,
And less in empire—
Orasmyn
Spare me, Sir! oh! spare me
The deep disgrace of this ungovern'd passion!
Almeyda
Ev'n in his insolence I praise his candour;
And most despise who makes the most professions.
[to Orasmyn.]
Abdallah
Yet, hear me, princess! nor incense a nature
That deigns once more to struggle with its fierceness.
His only fault, Orasmyn owes to thee:
A fond, a foolish passion, chills his pow'rs,
And leaves him but the semblance of himself.
Had he thus trembled in the battle's front,
Applauding nations ne'er had throng'd to see him,
Nor hadst thou worn the crown thou vaunt'st so bravely!
—Droop not, my son, beneath a woman's frown.
Tomorrow, and perhaps the fair one sues!
Such is their weak, their fluctuating nature.
Ev'n now this proud one shrinks! Upon her cheek
The rose of youth is blanch'd. Princess! farewell;
Remember, I or hate, or love, with ardour!
'Tis yet within thy pow'r to fix the feeling.
[Exit.]
Almeyda
Alas! what pow'r can change it? Lost Almeyda!
Orasmyn [irresolutely.]
How shall a heart ill-understood, abhorr'd,
Win on thy confidence, or guide thy councils?
By heav'n! I melt in womanish lamentings,
Thus innocently to excite thy hatred!
Yet, hear me! be advis'd; disguise thy feelings.
Thy safety rests in quitting this lone fortress!
And ev'ry hour thou stay'st in it, distracts me.
Almeyda
Who shall endue thee with the grace of truth,
Or give me faith to trust thee? Well I see,
One is to terrify, and one to soothe me!
—Tho' had indulgent nature crown'd thy youth
With ev'ry charm and virtue giv'n to man,
Yet left thee still the son of fierce Abdallah,
Ev'n tho' the earth I stand on yawn'd a grave,
That grave should be my choice, rather than thee!
—Have I for this renounc'd each tender tye,
Of bleeding love, and ever faithful friendship?
—Not thus Alonzo woo'd—Victoria won me!
No sighs, no tears, no honours, no despair!
No threat of misery, no dread of bondage,
No sound of death e'er mingled with his passion!
—His polish'd heart felt, and inspired a love,
Which, far outswelling this world's narrow bound,
Both may delight to bear into a better!
Orasmyn
Th'unwary flight expounds a mystery
My shallow sense o'erlook'd. Oh! well I see
Why thou wouldst not do justice to Orasmyn.
—Yet, oh! I pity, far more than I blame thee!
Hide from all eyes, but chiefly from my father's,
Th'unsanction'd prepossession! Ruin—murder,
A thousand ills, I will not shock thy sense with,
Lurk in the thought of love, and of Alonzo!
—Born to adore, to follow, to protect thee!
Think not Orasmyn will desert himself,
To force a heart upon thee!—Oh, farewell!
I cannot coin in words my soul's soft meaning!
[Exit.]
Almeyda
There is a glowing grandeur in this prince,
Worthy a better sire! But, oh, Alonzo!
Ne'er shalt thou know the shadow of a rival,
Ev'n tho' alone I breast the beating storm,
And fall the single object of its rage!
END OF ACT II
