I have a daughter gained, and Heaven an enemy. Oh! my misguided daughter-lose not thy faith, Reclaim thy birthright-think upon the blood Of twenty Christian kings, that fills thy veins; 'Tis heroes' blood-the blood of saints and martyrs!

What would thy mother feel, to see thee thus! She, and thy murdered brothers!-think, they call thee;

Think that thou seest them stretch their bloody

arms,

And weep to win thee from their murderer's bo

som,

Even in the place where thou betrayest thy God, He died, my child, to save thee.-Turn thy eyes, And see; for thou art near his sacred sepulchre Thou canst not move a step, but where he trod! Thou tremblest-Oh! admit me to thy soul; Kill not thy aged, thy afflicted father;

Take not thus soon, again, the life thou gavest him:

Shame not thy mother-nor renounce thy God.
'Tis past-Repentance dawns in thy sweet eyes;
I see bright truth descending to thy heart,
And now, my long-lost child is found for ever!
Ner. Oh, doubly blest! a sister, and a soul,
To be redeemed together!

You keep the fatal secret! for the rest, Leave all to Heaven-be faithful, and be blest. [Exeunt.

SCENE I.

Enter OSMAN and ORASMIN.

Oras. But, sir-should Lewis

Osm. Tell Lewis, and the world-it shall be

SO:

groundless;

Lewis no longer turns his arms on me;
The French, grown weary by a length of woes,
Wish not at once to quit their fruitful plains,
And famish on Arabia's desart sands.
Their ships, 'tis true, have spread the Syrian seas;
And Lewis, hovering o'er the coast of Cyprus,
Alarms the fears of Asia-But I've learnt,
That, steering wide from our unmenaced ports,
He points his thunder at the Egyptian shore.
There let him war, and waste my enemies;
Their mutual conflict will but fix my throne.
Release those Christians-I restore their free-
dom;

Twill please their master, nor can weaken me;
Transport them at my cost, to find their king;
I wish to have him know me: carry thither
This Lusignan, whom, tell him, I restore,
Because I cannot fear his fame in arms;
But love him for his virtue and his blood.
Tell him, my father, having conquered twice,
Condemned him to perpetual chains; but I
Have set him free, that I might triumph more.
Oras. The Christians gain an army in his name.
Osm. I cannot fear a sound.-

Thy statesman's reason is too dull for love!
Why wilt thou force me to confess it all?
Though I to Lewis send back Lusignan,
I give him but to Zara-I have grieved her;
And owed her the atonement of this joy.
Thy false advices, which but now misled
My anger, to confine those helpless Christians,
Gave her a pain; I feel for her and me:
But I talk on, and waste the smiling moments.
For one long hour I yet defer my nuptials;
But, 'tis not lost, that hour! 'twill be all hers!
She would employ it in a conference
With that Nerestan, whom thou know'st-that
Christian.

Oras. And have you, sir, indulged that strange desire?

Osm. What meanest thou? They were infant

slaves together;

Friends should part kind, who are to meet no

inore.

When Zara asks, I will refuse her nothing:
Restraint was never made for those we love.
Down with those rigours of the proud seraglio;
I hate its laws-where blind austerity
Sinks virtue to necessity.-My blood

her;

Thank Heaven, it is not, then, unlawful
To see you, yet once more, my lovely sister!
Not all so happy!--We, who met but now,
Shall never meet again—for Lusignan-
We shall be orphans still, and want a father.
Zar. Forbid it Heaven!

Ner. His last sad hour's at hand-
That flow of joy, which followed our discovery,
Too strong and sudden for his age's weakness,
Wasting his spirits, dried the source of life,
And nature yields him up to time's demand.
Shall he not die in peace?-Oh! let no doubt
Disturb his parting moments with distrust;
Let me, when I return to close his eyes,
Compose his mind's impatience too, and tell him,
You are confirmed a Christian!

Zar. Oh! may his soul enjoy, in earth and heaven,

Eternal rest! nor let one thought, one sigh,
One bold complaint of mine, recall his cares!
But you have injured me, who still can doubt.
What! am I not your sister? and shall you
Refuse me credit? You suppose me light;
You, who should judge my honour by your own,
Shall you distrust a truth I dared avow,
And stamp apostate on a sister's heart!

Ner. Ah! do not misconceive me!—if I erred,
Affection, not distrust, misled my fear;
Your will may be a Christian, yet not you;
There is a sacred mark-a sign of faith,
A pledge of promise, that must firm your claim,
Wash you from guilt, and open Heaven before

you.

Swear, swear by all the woes we all have borne,
By all the martyred saints, who call you daughter,
That you consent, this day, to seal our faith,
By that mysterious rite which waits your call.

Zar. I swear by Heaven, and all its holy host,
Its saints, its martyrs, its attesting angels,
And the dread presence of its living author,
To have no faith but yours;-to die a Christian!
Now, tell me what this mystic faith requires.
VOL. I.

woes,

Has brought us all, unhoping, thus together.

Nor daring to instruct, though strong in faith:
But I will bring the ambassador of Heaven,
To clear your views, and lift you to your God!
Be it your task to gain admission for him.--
But where? for whom?-Oh! thou immortal
Power!

Whence can we hope it, in this cursed seraglio?
Who is this slave of Osman? Yes, this slave!
Does she not boast the blood of twenty kings?
Is not her race the same with that of Lewis?
Is she not Lusignan's unhappy daughter?
A Christian, and my sister?-yet a slave!
A willing slave !-I dare not speak more plainly,
Zar. Cruel! go on-Alas! you do not know
me!

At once, a stranger to my secret fate,
My pains, my fears, my wishes, and my power;
I am I will be Christian-will receive
This holy priest, with his mysterious blessing;
I will not do, nor suffer, aught unworthy
Myself, my father, or my father's race.
But, tell me- -nor be tender on this point-
What punishment your Christian laws decree
For an unhappy wretch, who, to herself
Unknown, and all abandoned by the world,
Lost and enslaved, has, in her sovereign master,
Found a protector, generous as great,

Has touched his heart, and given him all her own?

Ner. The punishment of such a slave should be Death in this world-and pain in that to come. Zar. I am that slave-strike here-and save

my shame!

Ner. Destruction to my hopes! Can it be you? Zar. It is Adored by Osman, I adore him: This hour the nuptial rites will make us one.

Ner. What! marry Osman!-Let the world grow dark,

That the extinguished sun may hide thy shame! Could it be thus, it were no crime to kill thee! Zar. Strike, strike-I love him-yes, by Heaven I love him.

Ner. Death is thy due—but not thy due from

me:

Yet, were the honour of our house no bar-
My father's fame, and the too gentle laws
Of that religion which thou hast disgraced-
Did not the God thou quittest hold back my

arm

Not there-I could not there-but, by my soul, I would rush, desperate, to the sultan's breast, And plunge my sword in his proud heart, who damns thee!

Oh! shame! shame! shame! at such a time as this!

When Lewis! that awakener of the world, Beneath the lifted cross makes Egypt pale, 3 L

faith,

Now to submit to see my sister doomed
A bosom slave to him, whose tyrant heart
But measures glory by the Christian's woe!
Yes--I will dare acquaint our father with it;
Departing Lusignan may live so long,
As just to hear thy shame, and die to escape it.
Zar. Stay-my too angry brother-stay-per-
haps,

Zara has resolution great as thine:

Tis cruel and unkind.-Thy words are crimes;
My weakness but misfortune. Dost thou suffer?
I suffer more;-Oh! would to Heaven this blood
Of twenty boasted kings would stop at once,
And stagnate in my heart!—It then no more
Would rush, in boiling fevers, through my veins,
And every trembling drop be filled with Osman.
How has he loved me! how has he obliged me!
I owe thee to him! What has he not done,
To justify his boundless power of charming?
For me, he softens the severe decrees
Of his own faith;—and is it just that mine
Should bid me hate him, but because he loves
me?

No I will be a Christian-but preserve
My gratitude as sacred as my faith;
If I have death to fear for Osman's sake,
It must be from his coldness, not his love.

Ner. I must at once condemn and pity thee;
I cannot point thee out which way to go,
But Providence will lend its light to guide thee.
That sacred rite, which thou shalt now receive,
Will strengthen and support thy feeble heart,
To live an innocent, or die a martyr:
Here, then, begin performance of thy vow;
Here, in the trembling horrors of thy soul,
Promise thy king, thy father, and thy God,
Not to accomplish thy detested nuptials,

Till first the reverend priest has cleared your

eyes,

Taught you to know, and given you claim to Heaven.

Promise me this

Zur. So, bless me, Heaven! I do.Go-hasten the good priest, I will expect him; But first return-cheer my expiring father, Tell him I am, and will be, all he wishes me: Tell him, to give him life 'twere joy to die. Ner. Igo-Farewell-farewell, unhappy sister! [Exit Nerestan. Zar. I am alone-and now be just, my heart! And tell me, wilt thou dare betray thy God? What am I? What am I about to be? Daughter of Lusignan-or wife to Osman? Am I a lover most, or most a Christian? Would Selima were come! and yet 'tis just, All friends should fly her who forsakes herself. What shall I do?-What heart has strength to bear

These double weights of duty?-Help me, Heaven!

But, oh! demand it back-for now 'tis Osman's. Enter OSMAN,

Osm. Shine out, appear, be found, my lovely
Zara!

Impatient eyes attend-the rites expect thee;
And my devoted heart no longer brooks
This distance from its softener!--all the lamps
Of nuptial love are lighted, and burn pure,
As if they drew their brightness from thy blushes:
The holy mosque is filled with fragrant fumes,
Which emulate the sweetness of thy breathing:
My prostrate people all confirm my choice,
And send their souls to Heaven in prayers for
blessings.

Thy envious rivals, conscious of thy right,
Approve superior charms, and join to praise thee;
The throne, that waits thee, seems to shine more
richly,

As all its gems, with animated lustre,

Feared to look dim beneath the eyes of Zara! Come, my slow love! the ceremonies wait thee; Come, and begin from this dear hour my triumph. Zar. Oh, what a wretch am I! Oh, grief! Oh, love!

Zar. Instruct me, Heaven!

What should I say-Alas! I cannot speak.

Osm. Away this modest, sweet reluctant trifling

But doubles my desires, and thy own beauties.
Zar. Ah, me!

Osm. Nay--but thou shouldst not be too cruel.
Zar. I can no longer bear it—Oh, my lord-
Osm. Ha!--What?-whence?-how?-
Zar. My lord! my sovereign!

Heaven knows this marriage would have been a bliss

Above my humble hopes !-yet, witness love!
Not from the grandeur of your throne, that bliss
But from the pride of calling Osman mine.
Would you had been no emperor! and I
Possessed of power and charms deserving you!
That, slighting Asia's thrones, I might alone
Have left a proffered world, to follow you
Through deserts, uninhabited by men,
And blessed with ample room for peace and love;
But, as it is-these Christians-

Osm. Christians! What!

How start two images into thy thoughts,
So distant as the Christians and my love!
Zar. That good old Christian, reverend Lusig-

nan,

Now dying, ends his life and woes together. Osm. Well! let him die-What has thy heart to feel,

Thus pressing, and thus tender, from the death Of an old wretched Christian?-Thank our prophet,

Thou art no Christian!-Educated here,
Thy happy youth was taught our better faith:
Sweet as thy pity shines, 'tis now mis-timed.
What! though an aged sufferer dies unhappy,
Why should his foreign fate disturb our joys?
Zar. Sir, if you love me, and would have me

think

That I am truly dear———

Osm. Heaven! if I love!
Zar. Permit me--

Osm. What?

Zar. To desire

Osm. Speak out.
Zar. The nuptial rites
May be deferred till-

Ösm. What!-Is that the voice
Of Zara?

Zar. Oh, I cannot bear his frown!
Osm. Of Zara!

Zar. It is dreadful to my heart,
To give you but a seeming cause for anger;
Pardon my grief-Alas! I cannot bear it;
There is a painful terror in your eye,
That pierces to my soul-hid from your sight,
I go to make a moment's truce with tears,
And gather force to speak of my despair.

[Exit disordered. Osm. I stand immoveable, like senseless marble;

Horror had frozen my suspended tongue;
And an astonished silence robbed my will
Of power to tell her that she shocked my soul !
Spoke she to me?-Sure I misunderstood her!
Could it be me she left?-What have I seen!

Enter ORASMIN.

Orasmin, what a change is here!-She's gone, And I permitted it, I know not how.

Oras. Perhaps you but accuse the charming

fault

Of innocence, too modest oft in love.

Osm. But why, and whence those tears?-those looks? that flight?

That grief, so strongly stamped on every feature? If it has been that Frenchman!-What a thought! How low, how horrid a suspicion that!

The dreadful flash at once gives light and kills

me;

My too bold confidence repelled my cautionAn infidel! a slave!—a heart like mine Reduced to suffer from so vile a rival!

Didst thou observe the language of their eyes?
Hide nothing from me-Is my love betrayed?
Tell me my whole disgrace: nay, if thou trem-
blest,

I hear thy pity speak, though thou art silent.
Oras. I tremble at the pangs I see you
suffer.
Let not your angry apprehension urge
Your faithful slave to irritate your anguish ;
I did, 'tis true, observe some parting tears;
But they were tears of charity and grief:
I cannot think there was a cause deserving
This agony of passion-

Osm. Why no-I thank thee

Orasmin, thou art wise! It could not be
That I should stand exposed to such an insult.
Thou know'st, had Zara meant me the offence,
She wants not wisdom to have hid it better:
How rightly didst thou judge!--Zara shall know it,
And thank thy honest service-After all,
Might she not have some cause for tears, which I
Claim no concern in—but the grief it gives her?
What an unlikely fear-from a poor slave,
Who goes to-morrow, and, no doubt, who wishes,
Nay, who resolves, to see these climes no more.
Oras. Why did you, sir, against our country's

custom,

Indulge him with a second leave to come?
He said, he should return once more to see her.
Osm. Return! the traitor! he return!-Dares
he

Presume to press a second interview?
Would he be seen again?-He shall be seen;
But dead. I'll punish the audacious slave,
To teach the faithless fair to feel my anger.
Be still, my transports; violence is blind :
I know my heart at once is fierce and weak;
I feel that I descend below myself;
Zara can never justly be suspected;

Her sweetness was not formed to cover treason:
Yet, Osman must not stoop to woman's follies;
Their tears, complaints, regrets, and reconcile-
ments,

With all their light, capricious roll of changes,
Are arts too vulgar to be tried on me.
It would become me better to resume
The empire of my will. Rather than fall
Beneath myself, I must, how dear soe'er
It costs me, rise-till I look down on Zara !–
Away but mark me-these seraglio doors,
Against all Christians be they henceforth shut,
Close as the dark retreats of silent death.

[Exit Orasmin. What have I done, just Heaven! thy rage to

move,

ing?

[Exit.