SCENE I.
ZAMTI.
[Alone.
This tardy Etan, wherefore comes he not
To tell me — what I dread to hear? perhaps
Ere this the dreadful sacrifice is past:
I had not power to offer it myself.
O my dear child, how shall I ask my friend
The horrid question, how conceal my grief?
SCENE II.
ZAMTI, ETAN.
ZAMTI.
I see ‘tis done; I know it by thy tears;
They speak too plainly.
ETAN.
Thy unhappy son —
ZAMTI.
No more of that: speak of our empire’s hope,
The royal infant; is he safe?
ETAN.
He is:
Within the tombs of his great ancestors.
Concealed from every eye; to you he owes
A life begun in misery, perhaps
A fatal gift.
ZAMTI.
It is enough, he lives.
O you, to whom I pay this cruel duty,
Forgive a father’s tears.
ETAN.
Alas! my lord,
You must not give away to sorrow here:
‘Tis dangerous even to weep.
ZAMTI.
And whither, Etan,
Must I transport my griefs? how bear the cries,
The bitter anguish, the despair, the rage,
The execrations of a frantic mother?
May we not yet deceive her for a time?
ETAN.
We seized him in her absence, and I flew
To guard the orphan king.
ZAMTI.
A while, my friend,
We might impose on her credulity.
Couldst thou not say we had delivered up
The royal orphan, and concealed her son
In safety? Truth is often most destructive,
And still we love it, though it makes us wretched.
Come, Etan, let us home — O heaven! she’s here!
Observe her, what despair and terror dwell
On her pale cheek!
SCENE III.
ZAMTI, IDAME.
IDAME.
Barbarian, can it be?
Could Zamti e’er command it? could he offer
The dreadful sacrifice? I’ll not believe it:
Thou couldst not be more cruel than the laws
Of our proud conquerors, or the Tartar’s sword.
Alas! thou weepest.
ZAMTI.
Thou too must weep with Zamti.
But thou must join with him to save thy king.
IDAME.
What! sacrifice my child!
ZAMTI.
It must be so:
Thou wert a subject ere thou wert a mother.
IDAME.
Has nature then lost all her influence o’er
A father’s heart?
ZAMTI.
She has too much; but ne’er
Shall thwart my duty.
IDAME.
‘Tis a barbarous virtue,
And I abhor it: I have seen, like thee,
Our empire lost, and wept our sovereign’s fate;
But why pour forth an infant’s guiltless blood,
Yet undemanded; why revere as gods
Your sleeping kings, that moulder in the tomb?
Hath Zamti sworn to them that he would kill
His darling child? alas! the rich and poor,
The monarch and the slave, are equal all
By nature; all alike to sorrow born,
Each has his share; and in the general wreck,
All duty bids us is — to save our own.
O had I fallen into the snare, and staid
A moment longer with the royal orphan,
My child had fallen into the cruel hands
Of ruffians; but I would have perished with him.
Nature and love recalled me, and I snatched
My lovely infant from the ravishers,
Preserved the son and mother; saved even thee,
Thou barbarous father.
ZAMTI.
Doth my son then live?
IDAME.
He doth; and thou shouldst bend to gracious heaven
For goodness thus unmerited: repent,
And be a father.
ZAMTI.
O almighty power,
Forgive the joy that, spite of all my firmness,
Thus mingles with my tears: alas! my love,
Vain are our hopes of happiness, and vain
Thy fond endeavors to prolong the life
Of our dear infant; these inhuman tyrants
Will force him from us; he must yield to fate.
IDAME.
But hear me, dearest Zamti.
ZAMTI.
He must die.
IDAME.
Barbarian, stay, and tremble at the rage
Of an afflicted desperate mother.
ZAMTI.
I
Shall do my duty, you may give up yours,
And sacrifice your husband to the foe:
This is a day of blood; let Zamti join
His murdered king, and perish with his country.
IDAME.
What is your country, what your king to me?
The name of subject is not half so sacred
As husband or as father. Love and nature
Are heaven’s first great unalterable laws,
And cannot be reversed: the rest are all
From mortal man, and may be changed at pleasure.
Would I could save the royal heir, but not
By the much dearer blood of Zamti’s son!
Pity a wretched mother; on my knees
I beg thee, cruel Zamti: O remember
For whom I slighted this proud conqueror,
This mighty warrior; was it not for thee?
And wilt thou not protect my son, not hear
The voice of nature pleading for thy child?
ZAMTI.
It is too much: thou dost abuse the power
Which love has given thee o’er thy Zamti’s heart:
Couldst thou but see —
IDAME.
I own, my lord, I feel
A mother’s weakness, and a mother’s sorrows;
Yet may I boast a heart as firm as thine;
Away, and lead me on to death: I’m ready
To perish for my son.
ZAMTI.
I know thy virtues.
SCENE IV.
ZAMTI, IDAME, OCTAR.
Guards.
OCTAR.
Where are these traitors? why are my commands
Thus disobeyed? what have ye done with him,
The orphan prince? guards, bring him to our presence,
The emperor approaches; let him see
The victim at his feet: you, soldiers, watch
These rebels.
ZAMTI.
I obey, my lord, the orphan
Shall be delivered up.
IDAME.
‘Tis false; he shall not:
I’ll sooner lose my life than part with him.
OCTAR.
Guards, take this woman hence: the emperor comes.
SCENE V.
GENGHIS, OCTAR, OSMAN.
Guards.
GENGHIS.
At length, my friends, ‘tis time to sheathe the sword,
And let the vanquished breathe; I’ve spread destruction
And terror through the land, but I will give
The nation peace: the royal infant’s death
Shall satisfy my wrath; with him shall rot
The seeds of foul rebellion; all the plots,
Feuds and divisions, fears and jealousies,
That whilst the phantom of a royal heir
Subsists, must disunite us, he alone
Of all the hated race remains, and he
Shall follow them: henceforth we will not raze
Their boasted works, their monuments of art,
Their sacred laws; for sacred they esteem
The musty rolls, which superstition taught
Their ancestors to worship: be it so,
The error may be useful, it employs
The people, and may make them more obedient.
[To Octar.
Octar, to thee I shall commit the power,
To bear my standard to the western world.
[To another officer.
Rule thou in conquered India, and interpret
Thy sovereign’s great decrees; from Samarcand
To Tanais’ borders, I shall send my sons.
Away — stay, Octar.
SCENE VI.
GENGHIS, OCTAR.
GENGHIS.
Couldst thou e’er have thought
Fortune would raise me to this height of glory?
That I should reign supreme, and triumph here,
Even in this palace, where disgraced and wretched
I sought in vain for refuge, and was treated
With insolence and scorn: the proud possessors
Of this unconquered empire then disdained
A Scythian, and a haughty fair refused
That hand which now directs the fate of millions.
OCTAR.
Amidst this scene of glory, how, my lord,
Can thoughts like these disturb you?
GENGHIS.
Still the wrongs
I suffered in adversity oppress me:
I own the weakness of my foolish heart,
And hoped to find that happiness in love,
Which glory, wealth, and empire, cannot give.
It hurts my pride to think how I was spurned
By that contemptuous woman; she shall know,
At least, and see the object of her scorn.
To have her mourn the honors that she lost
In losing Genghis will be some revenge.
OCTAR.
The shouts of victory, and the voice of fame,
Have been so long familiar to my ears,
That I have little relish for the plaints
Of whining love.
GENGHIS.
Nor has thy friend indulged
That fatal passion since her proud refusal:
I own the fair Idame won my heart,
By charms unknown before: our barren deserts
Could never produce a face like hers, a mind
So formed to please; her every motion fired
My captive soul, but her imprudent scorn
Restored my freedom; nobler objects claim
A monarch’s care; I’ll think no more of her,
Let her repent at leisure of her pride.
Octar, I charge thee, talk not of Idame.
OCTAR.
You have, indeed, affairs of greater moment
That call for your attention.
GENGHIS.
Then farewell
To love, and all its follies.
SCENE VII.
GENGHIS, OCTAR, OSMAN.
OSMAN.
O my lord,
The victim was prepared, the guard was ranged
On every side, when (wonderful to tell!)
A strange event perplexed us all. — A woman
Of frantic mien, with wild dishevelled hair,
And bathed in tears, rushed in upon us; “stop,”
Aloud she cried, “inhuman ruffians, stop,
It is my son, you’ve been deceived; ‘tis not
The emperor’s child, but mine:” her eyes, her voice,
Her fury, her despair, her every gesture,
Was nature’s language all, and spoke the mother:
When lo! her husband came, with downcast eyes
And gloomy aspect; sullenly he cried,
“This is the royal orphan, this the blood,
Which you demanded, take it:” as he spake,
Fast flowed his tears. The wretched matron, pale
And motionless awhile, as struck with death,
Fell prostrate; then, long as her faltering voice
Could utter the imperfect sound, cried out,
“Give me my son:” her sorrows were sincere,
Never was grief more bitter, doubts arose
Amongst us, and I came to know your orders.
GENGHIS.
If ‘tis the work of art, I will explore
The mystery soon, and woe to the deceivers:
Think they to cast a veil before my eyes,
And mock their sovereign? let them if they dare.
OCTAR.
My lord, this woman never can deceive us;
The emperor’s son was placed beneath her care;
A master’s child might easily attract
The faithful servant’s love, and danger make
The charge more precious still; the ties of nature
Are not more strong than those of fantasy:
But we shall soon unravel it.
GENGHIS.
Who is
This woman?
OCTAR.
Wife of a proud Mandarin:
One of those lettered sages who defy
The power of kings; a numerous band! but now,
Thank heaven, reduced by thy victorious arms
To slavery: Zamti is the traitor’s name
Who watches o’er the victim.
GENGHIS.
Go, my Octar,
Interrogate this guilty pair, and learn,
If possible, the truth: let all our guards
Be ready at their posts: they talk, it seems,
Of a surprise that the Koreans mean
To march against us on the river’s bank:
An army hath been seen: we soon shall know
What bold adventurers are so fond of death,
To court destruction from the sons of war,
And force them to depopulate the world.
END of the SECOND ACT.