And one light lapse, throughout thy course of virtue,

Shews only thou wert man, ordained to strive, But not attain, perfection.

Dost thou, too, weep? transcendent, loveliest maid!

Pardon a heart, o'ercharged with grief,
That in thy presence will not be exiled,
Though every joy dwells round thee.
Cristina. O Gustavus!

A bosom, pure like thine, must soon regain
The heart-felt happiness that dwells with virtue;
And Heaven, on all exterior circumstance,
Shall pour the balm of peace, shall pay thee
back

The bliss of nations, breathing on thy head
The sweets that live within the prayers of foes,
Subdued unto thy merits.-Fare, farewell!

Gust. Thou shalt not part, Cristina.
Cristina. O!—I must-

Gust. No, thou art all that's left to sweeten
life,

And reconcile the wearied to the world.

Cristina. It will not be-I dare not hear-
Gust. You must.

I am thy suppliant in my turn-but, O!
My suit is more, much more, than life or empire,
Than man can merit, or worlds give without thee!
Cristina. Now, aid me, aid me, all ye chaster

powers,

That guard a woman's weakness! 'Tis resolved;
Thy own example charms thy suit to silence.
Nor think alone to bear the palm of virtue,
Thou, who hast taught the world, when duty calls,
To throw the bar of every wish behind them.
Exalted in that thought, like thee I rise,
While every lessening passion sinks beneath me.
Adieu, adieu, most honoured, first of men!
I go, I part, I fly, but to deserve thee.

Gust. Yet stay-a moment―till my fluttering

heart

Cristina. O delightful notes!

That I do love thee, yes, 'tis true, my lord;
The bond of virtue, friendship's sacred tie,
The lover's pains, and all the sister's fondness-
Mine has the flame of every love within it.
But I have a father, guilty if he be,
Yet is he old; if cruel, yet a father.
Abandoned now by every supple wretch,
That fed his years with flattery-I am all
That's left to calm, to soothe his troubled soul
To penitence, to virtue; and, perhaps,
Restore the better empire o'er his mind,
True seat of all dominion. Yet, Gustavus,
Yet there are mightier reasons-O, farewell!
Had I ne'er loved, I might have stayed with ho-
[Exit.

nour.

title to ye,

Gust. Come, come, my brothers all! Yes, I will strive To be the sum of every And you shall be my sire, my friend revived, My sister, mother, all that's kind and dear, For so Gustavus holds ye-O, I will Of private passions all my soul divest, And take my dearer country to my breast; To public good transfer each fond desire, And clasp my Sweden with a lover's fire." Well pleased, the weight of all her burdens bear; Dispense all pleasure, but engross all care. Still quick to find, to feel my people's woes, And wake, that millions may enjoy repose.

[Exeunt omnes.

Enter ALCANOR and PHARON.

Alc. PHARON, no more-shall I
Fall prostrate to an arrogant impostor,
Homage in Mecca one I banished thence,
And incense the delusions of a rebel!
No-blast Alcanor, righteous Heaven! if e'er
This hand, yet free and uncontaminate,
Shall league with fraud, or adulate a tyrant.
Pha. August and sacred chief of Ishmael's
senate,

This zeal of thine, paternal as it is,
Is fatal now-our impotent resistance
Controls not Mahomet's unbounded progress,
But, without weakening, irritates the tyrant.
When once a citizen you well condemned him

But now he is a conqueror, prince, and pontiff,
Whilst nations numberless embrace his laws,
And pay him adoration-even in Mecca
He boasts his proselytes.

Alc. Such proselytes

Are worthy of him-low untutored reptiles,
In whom sense only lives-most credulous still
Of what is most incredible.

Alc. If, ye Powers divine!

Ye mark the movements of this nether world, And bring them to account, crush, crush those vipers,

Who, singled out by a community

To guard their rights, shall, for a grasp of ore, Or paltry office, sell them to the foe!

Pha. Each honest citizen, I grant, is thine, And, grateful for thy boundless blessings on them, Would serve thee with their lives; but the approach

Of this usurper to their very walls
Strikes them with such a dread, that even these
Implore thee to accept his proffered peace..

Nay, smile not, friend, nor think that at these years, ́
Well travelled in the winter of my days,

I entertain a thought towards this young beauty,
But what's as pure as is the western gale,
That breathes upon the uncropt violet-
Pha. My lord-

Alc. This heart, by age and grief congealed,
Is no more sensible to love's endearments
Than are our barren rocks to morn's sweet dew,
That balmy trickles down their rugged cheeks.
Pha. My noble chief, each master-piece of

nature

Alc. Oh, people lost to wisdom as to glory! Go, bring in pomp, and serve upon your knees This idol, that will crush you with its weight. Mark, I abjure him by his savage hand My wife and children perished, whilst in

ance

I carried carnage to his very tent,
Transfixed to earth his only son, and wore
His trappings as a trophy of my conquest.
This torch of enmity, thus lighted 'twixt us,
The hand of time itself can ne'er extinguish,
Pha. Extinguish not, but smother for a while
Its fatal flame, and greatly sacrifice
Thy private sufferings to the public welfare.
Oh say, Alcanor, wert thou to behold
(As soon thou may'st) this famed metropolis
With foes begirt, behold its pining tenants
Prey on each other for the means of life,
Whilst lakes of blood and mountains of the slain
Putrify the air,

And sweep off thousands with their poisonous

steams,

Promised her audience in my own pavilion.
Pharon, go thou, meanwhile, and see the senate
Assembled straight-I'll sound them as I ought.
[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.-changes to a room of state.
Enter PALMIRA.

Pal. What means this boding terror, that

usurps,

In spite of me, dominion o'er my heart,
Converting the sweet flower of new-blown hope
To deadly nightshade, poisoning to my soul
The fountain of its bliss?-Oh holy prophet!
Shall I ne'er more attend thy sacred lessons?
Oh Zaphna! much-loved youth! I feel for thec
As for myself-But hold! my final audit
Is now at hand-I tremble for the event!
Here comes my judge-now liberty or bondage!
Enter ALCANOR.

Alc. Palmira, whence those tears? trust me, fair maid!

Thou art not fallen into barbarians' hands;
What Mecca can afford of pomp or pleasure,
To call attention from misfortune's lap,
Demand and share it.

Pal. No, my generous victor!
My suit's for nothing Mecca can afford;
Prisoner these two long months beneath your

roof,

Have pity then;

Pity, Alcanor, one, who is torn from all
That's dear or venerable to her soul;

Restore me, then, restore me to my country,
Restore me to my father, prince, and prophet!
Alc. Is slavery dear then? is fraud venerable?
What country? a tumultuous wandering camp!
Pal. My country, sir, is not a single spot
Of such a mould, or fixed to such a clime;
No, 'tis the social circle of my friends,
The loved community, in which I'm linked,
And in whose welfare all my wishes centre.
Alc. Excellent maid! Then Mecca be thy
country.

Robbed of my children, would Palmira deign
To let me call her child, the toil I took
To make her destiny propitious to her,
Would lighten the rough burthen of my own:
But no; you scorn my country and my laws.
Pal. Can I be your's, when not my own? Your

bounties

Claim and share my gratitude-but Mahomet Claims right o'er me of parent, prince, and prophet.

Alc. Of parent, prince, and prophet! Heav'ns! that robber,

Who, a scaped felon, emulates a throne,
And, scoffer at all faiths, proclaims a new one!
Pal. Oh, cease, my lord! this blasphemous
abuse

Of one, whom millions with myself adore,
Does violence to my ear; such black profane-

ness

'Gainst Heaven's interpreter blots out remembrance

Of favours past, and nought succeeds but horror.
Alc. Oh superstition! thy pernicious rigours,
Inflexible to reason, truth, and nature,
Banish humanity the gentlest breasts.
Palmira, I lament to see thee plunged
So deep in error—

Pal. Do you then reject

My just petition? can Alcanor's goodness
Be deaf to suffering virtue?

Name but the ransom,

And Mahomet will treble what you ask.

Alc. There is no ransom Mahomet can offer, Proportioned to the prize. Trust me, Palmira, I cannot yield thee up. What! to a tyrant, Who wrongs thy youth, and mocks thy tender

heart

With vile illusions and fanatic terrors!

Enter PHARON.

What wouldst thou, Pharon?

Pha. From yon western gate,

Which opens on Moradia's fertile plains,

Plunged in the night of prejudice, and bound
In fetters of hereditary faith,

My judgment slept; but when I found him born
To mould anew the prostrate universe,

I started from my dream, joined his career,
And shar'd his arduous and immortal labours.
Once, I must own, I was as blind as thou:
Then wake to glory, and be changed like me.
Alc. What death to honour, wakening to such
glory!

Pha, Oh, what a fall from virtue was that change!

Mir. Come, embrace our faith, reign with

Mahomet,

And, clothed in terrors, make the vulgar tremble. Alc. 'Tis Mahomet, and tyrants like to Ma

homet,

'Tis Mirvan, and apostates like to Mirvan,
I only would make tremble-Is it, say'st thou
Religion, that's the parent of this rapine,
This virulence and rage?-No; true religion
Is always mild, propitious and humane,
Plays not the tyrant, plants no faith in blood,
Nor bears destruction on her chariot-wheels;

Alc. Mirvan, that vile apostate!

Pha. In one hand

He holds a scimitar, the other bears

An olive branch, which to our chiefs he waves,

And builds her grandeur on the public good. Mir. Thou art turned Christian, sure! some straggling monk

Has taught thee these tame lessons→→→

Alc. If the Christians
Hold principles like these, which reason dictates,
Which all our notions of the powers divine
Declare the social laws they meant for man,
And all the beauties and delights of nature
Bear witness to, the Christians may be right;
Thy sect cannot, who, nursed in blood and
slaughter,

Worship a cruel and revengeful being,
And draw him always with his thunder round him,
As ripe for the destruction of mankind.

Mir. If clemency delights thee, learn it here.
Though banished, by thy voice, his native city,
Though, by thy hand, robbed of his only son,
Mahomet pardons thee; nay, farther, begs
The hatred burning 'twixt you be extinguished,
With reconciliation's generous tear.

Alc. I know thy master's arts; his generous tears,

Like the refreshing drops, that previous fall
To the wild outrage of o'erwhelming earthquakes,
Only forerun destruction;

Courage he has, not bravery;

For blood and havock are the sure attendants
On his victorious car.

Pha. Leagues he will make too

Alc. Like other grasping tyrants, till he eyes A lucky juncture to enlarge his bounds; Then he'll deride them, leap o'er every tie Of sacred guarantee, or sworn protection; And when the oppressed ally implores assistance, Beneath that mask invade the wished-for realms, And from pure friendship take them to himself. Mir. Mahomet fights Heaven's battles, bends the bow,

To spread Heaven's laws, and to subject to faith The iron neck of error.

Alc. Lust and ambition, Mirvan, are the springs Of all his actions; whilst, without one virtue, Dissimulation, like a flattering painter, Bedecks him with the colouring of them all: This is thy master's portrait-But no moreMy soul's inexorable, and my hate

Immortal as the cause from whence it sprang.

SCENE I-PALMIRA's apartment.

Alc. I'll meet thee there, and see whose voice is victor.

Come, Pharon, aid me to repulse this traitor;
To bear him with impunity amongst us
Is treason 'gainst ourselvesYe sacred powers,
My country's gods, that, for three thousand years,
Have reigned protectors of the tribe of Ishmael,
Oh! support my spirit

In that firm purpose it has always held !
To combat violence, fraud, and usurpation,
To pluck the spoil from the oppressors' jaws,
And keep my country, as I found it, free!

[Exeunt.