Is it not so? Begone! Perdition choak thee—
Give me a moment's solitude-Thought, thought,
Where wouldst thou lead?
Cristina. He sees me not-Alas, alas, my
father!
O, what a war there lives within his eye!
Where greatness struggles to survive itself.
I tremble to approach him; yet I fain
Would bring peace to him-Don't you know me,
sir?
My father, look upon me! look, my father!
Why strains your lip, and why that doubtful eye
Through fury melting o'er me? Turn, ah, turn!
I cannot bear its softness-How? nay, then,
There is a falling dagger in that tear,
To kill thy child, to murder thy Cristina.
Crist. Then thou'rt Cristina?
Cristina. Yes.
Cristina. Alas! on me, my father,
Thy curses be on me; but on thy head
Fall blessings from that heaven, which has this day
Preserved thy life in battle.
The reverend monitor of vice—the soil,
Baneful and rank with every principle,
Whence grow the crimes of kings. First perish
[Stabs him.
Who taught the throne of power to fix on fear,
And raise its safety from the public ruin;
Fall thou into the gulph thyself hast fixed
Between the prince and people; cutting off
Communion from the ear of royalty,
And mercy from complaint-away, away!
Thy death, old man, be on thy monarch's head;
On thine, the blood of all thy countrymen,
Who fell beneath thy counsels.
TROLLIO attempts to rise, and then speaks.
Troll. Thou bloody tyrant! late, too late I
find,
Nor faith, nor gratitude, nor friendly trust,
No force of obligations can subsist
Between the guilty-O, let none aspire
To be a king's convenience! Has he virtues,
Those are his own; his vices are his minister's.
Who dares to step 'twixt envy and the throne,
To do with heaven? Damnation! What am I?
All frail and transient as my lapsed dominions!
E'en now the solid earth prepares to slide
From underneath me. Nature's power cries out,
Leave him, thou universe! No-hold me, heaven!
Hold me, thou heaven! whom I've forsaken-Alike to feel the caprice of his prince,
Thy creature, though accursed!
Cristina. Patience and peace
Possess thy mind! Not all thy pride of empire
E'er gave such blessed sensation, as one hour
Of penitence, though painful—Let us hence
Far from the blood and bustle of ambition.
Be it my task to watch thy rising wish,
To smooth thy brow, find comfort for thy cares,
And for thy will, obedience; still to cheer
The day with smiles, and lay the nightly down
Beneath thy slumbers.
Crist. O thou all that's left me!
Even in the riot, in the rage of fight,
Thy guardian virtues watched around my head,
When else no arm could aid-for through my
ranks,
My circling troops, the fell Gustavus rushed;
Vengeance!' he cried, and with one eager hand
Gripped fast my diadem-his other arm
High reared the deathful steel-suspended yet;
For in his eye, and through his varying face,
Conflicting passions fought he looked-he
stood
In wrath reluctant-Then, with gentler voice;
"Cristina, thou hast conquered! Go,' he cried,
'I yield thee to her virtues."
As public detestation. Ha! I am going-
But whither? No one near! to feel! to catch!
The world but for an instant! for one ray
To guide my soul! Her way grows wonderous
dark,
And down! down! down!
Enter GUSTAVUS, ANDERSON, ARNOLDUS, SIVARD, &c. in triumph. GUSTAVUS advances, and the rest range themselves on each side of the stage.
Gust. That we have conquered, first we bend to heaven!
And. And next to thee!
All. To thee, to thee, Gustavus!
Gust. No, matchless men! my brothers of the
war!
Be it my greatest glory to have mixed
My arms with yours, and to have fought for once
Like to a Dalecarlian; like to you,
The sires of honour, of a new-born fame,
To be transmitted, from your great memorial,
To climes unknown, to age succeeding age,
Till time shall verge upon eternity,
And patriots be no more-
3T
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O rise-surprised, my eye perceived it not.
Cristina! thou all formed for excellence!
I've much to say, but that my tongue, my thoughts,
Are troubled; warred on by unusual passions.
'Twas hence thou hadst it in thy power to ask,
Ere I could offer.--Come, my friend, assist,
Instruct me to be grateful. O Cristina !
I fought for freedom, not for crowns, thou fair one!
They shall sit brighter on that beauteous head,
Whose eye might awe the monarchs of the earth,
And light the world to virtue !My Arvida!
Arv. O great and good, and glorious to the
last!
I read thy soul, I see the generous conflict,
And come to fix, not trouble, thy repose.
Could you but know with what an eager haste
I sprung to execute thy late commands;
To shield this lovely object of thy cares,
And give her thus, all beauteous, to thy eyes!
For I've no bliss but thine, have lost the form
Of every wish that's foreign to thy happiness.
But, O, my king! my conqueror ! my Gustavus!
It grieves me much, that thou must shortly mourn,
Even on the day in which thy country's freed,
That crowns thy arms with conquest and Cristina.
Gust. Alas! your cheek is pale-you bleed,
my brother!
Arv. I do, indeed-to death!
Gust. You have undone me :
Blessed people! Heaven! wherein have we de- Rash, headstrong man! O, was this well, Ar
A man like this to rule us!
[Turns from him. Arv. Pardon, Gustavus! mine's the common
Enter ARVIDA leading in CRISTINA. He runs The fate of thousands fallen this day in battle.
Aro. My king! O hail! Thus let me pay my homage.
[Kneels. Gust. Rise, rise, nor shame our friendship. Aro. See, Gustavus! Behold, nor longer wonder at my frailty.
Gust. Be faithful, eyes! Ha! Yes! it must
'Tis she; for Heaven would choose no other form Wherein to treasure every mental virtue! Cristina. Renowned Gustavus! mightiest mong men!
I had resolved on life, to see you blessed,
To see my king and his Cristina happy.
Turn, thou beloved, thou honoured next to Hea-
ven!
And to thy arms receive a penitent,
Who never more shall wrong thee.
Gust. O, Arvida!
Friend! friend!
[Turns and embraces him. Arv. Thy heart beats comfort to me! in this
Let thy Arvida, let thy friend survive.
a-O! strip his once loved image of its frailties,
And strip it, too, of every fonder thought,
That may give thee affliction-Do, Gustavus;
It is my last request; for Heaven and thou
Are all the care, and business-of Arvida.
If such a wretch, the captive of thy arms,
Trembling and awed in thy superior presence,
May find the grace that every other finds,
For thou art said to be of wondrous goodness!
Then hear, and O excuse a foe's presumption,
While low, thus low, you see a suppliant child,
Now pleading for a father, for a dear,
Much loved-if cruel, yet unhappy-father!
O, let, let him escape, who ne'er can wrong thee
more!
If he, with circling nations, could not stand
Against thee single; singly, what can he,
When thou art fenced with nations?
[Dies. Gust. Friend! brother! speak- He's gone,
That's left of him, who was my life's best treasure!
How art thou fallen, thou greatly valiant man!
In ruin graceful, like the warrior spear,
Though shivered in the dust! So fall Gustavus!
But thou art sped, hast reached the goal before
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
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 rișe,
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
Pour forth in love, in wonder pour before thee, Thou cruel excellence-Wouldst thou, too, leave me?
Not if the heart, the arms, of thy Gustavus
Have force to hold thee!
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.
GUSTAVUS looks after CRISTINA, then turns and looks on ARVIDA.-ANDERSON, ARNOLDUS, &c. advance.
And. Behold, my lord, behold the sons of war, Of triumph, turn to tears; while, from that eye, All Sweden takes her fate--and smiles around, Or weeps, with her Gustavus!
Arn. Wilt thou not cheer them? say, thou great deliverer! Siv. O general! 1st Dale. King! 2d Dale. Brother! 3d Dale. Father! All. Friend!
Gust. Come, come, my brothers all! Yes, I will strive To be the sum of every title to ye, 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.
As an obscure, seditious innovator;
SCENE I.—an apartment in the temple of Mecca. But now he is a conqueror, prince, and pontiff,
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
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.
Disdained, my lord; but may not the pest spread upwards,
And seize the head-Say, is the senate sound?
I fear some members of that reverend class
Are marked with the contagion, who, from views
Of higher power and rank,
Worship this rising sun, and give a sanction
To his invasions.
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
Commands involuntary homage from us.
Alc. I own, a tenderness unfelt before, A sympathetic grief, with ardent wishes To make her happy, fill my widowed bosom: I dread her being in that monster's power, And burn to have her hate him like myself. venge-Twas on this hour I, at her modest suit,
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
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
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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 thee
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
I have tasted such benignity and candour, Whilst your own hands so laboured to beguile The anxious moments of captivity,
That oft I have called my tears ingratitude.
Alc. If ought remains, that's in my power, to smooth
The rigour of your fate, and crown your wishes,
Why, 'twould fill
The furrows in my cheeks, and make old age
Put on its summer's garb.
Pal. Thus low I bless thee. It is on you, on you alone, Alcanor, My whole of future happiness depends:
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