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grown dim

den joy.

presence ?

to seek you;

Shar'd this captivity; we both grew up

See where they bring the good old chief, So near each other, that a tender friendship Endear'd her to my wishes: my fond heart — With age, by pain and sorrows bastend on. Pardon its weakness, bleeds to see her lost, Cha. How is my heart dissolv'd with sudAnd, for a barbarous tyrant, quit her God!

Cha. Such is the Saracens too fatal policy: Enter Lusignan, led in by two Guards. Watchful seducers still of insant weakness ! But let us think: may not this Zara's intrest, Lus. Where am I? From the dungeon's Loving the sultan, and by him belov'd,

depth what voice For Lusignan procure some softer sentence? Has calld me to revisit long-lost day? Ner. How shall I gain admission to her Am I with Christians? I am weak; forgive me,

And guide my trembling steps. I'm full of Osman bas banish'd me; but that's a trifle:

years ; Will the seraglio's portals open to me?

My miseries have worn me more than age. Or could I find that easy to my hopes,

Am I in truth at liberty ? [Scats himself. What prospect of success from an apostate?

Cha. You are; On whom I cannot look without disdain; And every Christian's grief takes end with yours. And who will read ber shame upon my

brow. Lus. Ở light! 0, dearer far than light, that The hardest trial of a generous mind

voice! Is to court favours from a hand it scorps. Chatillon, is it you? my fellow martyr!

Cha. Think it is Lusignan we seek to serve. And shall our wretchedness indeed hare end ? Ner. Well, it shall be attempted. Hark! In what place are we now? my feeble eyes, who's this?

Disus'd to day-light, long in vain to find you, Are my eyes false? or is it really she? Cha. This was the palace of your royal

fathers; Enter ZARA.

"Tis now the son of Noradin's seraglio. Zara. Start not, my worthy friend! I come Zara. The master of this place, the mighty

Osman, The sultan has permitted'it; fear nothing: Distinguishes, and loves to cherisb virtue. But to confirm my heart, which trembles near This gen'rous Frenchman, yet a stranger to you you,

Drawn from his native soil, from peace and rest, Soften that angry air, nor look reproach; Brought the vow'd ransom of ten Christian Why should we fear each other, both mis

slaves, taking?

Himself contented to remain a captive;. Associates from our birth, one prison held us, But Osman, charm'd by greatness like his own, One friendship taught affliction to be calm, To equal what he lov'd, has giv'n bim you. Till heaven thought fit to favour your escape,

Lus. So gen'rous France inspires ber social And call you to the fields of happier France;

sons! Thence, once again, it was my lot to find you They have been ever dear and useful to me. A pris'ner here where, hid amongst a crowd Would I were nearer to him. Noble sir, Of undistinguish'd slaves, with less restraint

[Nerestan approaches. I shar'd your frequent converse:

How have I merited, that you for me It pleas'd your pity, shall I say your friendship? Should pass such distant seas to bring me Or rather, shall I call it generous charity ?

blessings, To form that noble purpose, lo redeem And hazard your own safety for my sake? Distressful Zara-you procur'd my ransom,

Ner. My name, sir, is Nerestan; born in And with a greatness ihat out-soar'd a crown,

Syria, Return'd yourself a slave, to give me freedom: I wore the chains of slavery from my birth; But heav'n has cast our fåte for different Till quitting the proud crescent for the court climes;

Where warlike Lewis reigns, beneath his eye Here, in Jerusalem, I fix for ever;

I learnt the trade of arms: the rank I held Yet, among all the shine that marks my fortune, Was but the kind distinction which he gave me, I shall with frequent tears remember yours. To tempt my courage to deserve regard. Your goodness will for ever sooth my heart, Your sight, unhappy prince, would charm And keep your image still a dweller there: Warmd by your great example to protect That best and greatest monarch will behold That faith that lists humanity so high, With grief and joy those venerable wounds, I'll be a mother to distressful Christians. And print embraces where your fetters bound Ner. How! you protect the Christians! you,

you. who can

All Paris will revere the cross's martyr. Abjure their saving truth, and coldly see Lus. Alas! in times long past, I've seen its Great Lusignan, their chief, die slow in chains!

glory: Zara. To bring him freedom you behold When Philip the victorious liv'd, I fought me here;

Abreast with Montmorency and Melun, You will this moment meet his eyes in joy. D’Estaing, De Nesle, and the far-famous Courey ; Cha. Shall I then live to bless that happy Names which were then the praise and dread hour?

of war. Ner. Can Christians owe so dear a gift to But what have I to do at Paris now? Zara?

I stand upon the brink of the cold grave; Zara. Hopeless I gather'd courage to entreat That way my journey lies—to find, I hope, The sultan for his liberty: amaz’d,

The King of kings, and ask the recompense So soon to gain the happiness I wish'd! For all my woes, long suffer'd for his sake.

his eye;

You gen'rous witnesses of my last hour, Lus. Tell me yet,
While I yet live, assist my humble,prayers, Has it remain'd for ever in your hands?
And join the resignation of my soul. What, both brought captives from Caesarea
Nerestan! Chatillon! and you, fair mourner,

hither? Whose tears do honour to an old man's sorrows! Zara. Both, both. Pity a father, the unhappiest sure

Lus. Their voice! their looks! That ever felt the band of angry heaven! The living images of their dear mother! My eyes, though dying, still can furnish tears; O God! who seest my tears and know'st my Half my long life they flow'd, and still will flow!

thoughts, A daughter and three sons, my heart's proud Do not forsake me at this dawn of hope; hopes,

Strengthen my heart, too feeble for this joy. Were all torn from me in their tend'rest Madam! Nerestan!—Help me, Chatillon! years :

[Rises. My friend Chatillon knows, and can remem- Nesestan, hast thou on thy breast a scar, ber

Which ere Caesarea fell, from a fierce hand, Cho. Would I were able to forget your woe. Surprising us by night, my child receiv'd ? Lus. Thou wert a pris'ner with me in Cae- Ner. Bless'd hand! - 1 bear it.- Sir, the mark sarea,

is there! And there beheld'st my wife and two dear sons Lus. Merciful heaven! Perish in flames.

Ner. Oh, sir!-Oh, Zara, kneel! Kneels. Cha. A captive, and in setters,

Zara. My father!-Oh!, [Kneels. I could not help 'em.

Lus. Oh, my lost children! Lus. I know thou couldst not.

Both. Oh! Ob, 'l was a dreadful scene! these eyes beheld it: Lus. My son! my daughter! lost in emHusband and father, helpless I beheld it;

bracing you, Deny'd the mournful privilege to die. I would now die, lest this should prove a dream. Ob, my poor children, whom I now deplore, Cha. How touch'd is my glad heart to see If ye are saints in heav'n, as sure ye are,

their joy! Look with an eye of pity on that brother, Lus. They shall not tear you from my arms That sister whom you lest! If I have yet

-my children, Or son or daughter; for in early chairs, Again I find you-dear in wretchedness. Far from their lost and unassisting father, Oh, my brave son, and thou, my nameless I heard that they were sent, with numbers more,

daughter! To this seraglio; bence to be dispers'd Now dissipate all doubt, remove all dread; lo nameless remnants o'er the east, and spread Has heaven, that gives me back my children, Our Christian miseries round a faithless world. Cha. 'Twas true; for in the horrors of tbat Such as I lost them ? come they Christians day,

to me? I snatch'd your infant daughter from her cradle; One weeps, and one declines a conscious eye! When from my bleeding arms, fierce Saracens Your silence speaks; too well I understand it. Forc'd the lost innocent, who smiling lay, Zara. I cannot, sir, deceive you; Osman's And pointed, playful, at the swarthy spoilers!

laws With her your youngest, then your only son, Were mine; and Osman is not Christian. Whose little life had reach'd the fourth sad year, Lus. Her words are thunder bursting on And just giv'n sense lo feel his own misfortunes, Was order'd to this city.

Wer't not for thee, my son, I now should die. Ner. I too, bither,

Full sixty years I fought the Christian's cause; Just at that fatal age, from lost Caesarea, Saw their doom'd temple fall, their power Came in that crowd of undistinguish'd Christians.

destroy'd : Lus. You! came you thence? Alas! who Twenty, a captive, in a dungeon's depth; knows but you

Yet never for myself my tears sought heaven: Might heretofore bare seen my two poor

chil- All for

rose my

prayers. dren.

[Looks up. Yet what avails a father's wretched joy ? Ha, madam! that small ornament you wear,

I have a daughter gain'd, and heaven an enemy. Its form a stranger to this country's fashion, Oh, my misguided daughter, lose not thy faith; How long bas ii been yours?

Reclaim thy birthright; think upon the blood Zara. From my first birth, sir.

Of twenty Christian kings, that fills thy veins : Ah, what! you seem surpris'd!-Why should 'Tis heroes' blood, the blood of saints and this move you?

martyrs ! Lus. Would you conside it to my trembling What would thy mother feel to see thee thus ? hands?

She and thy murder'd brothers!-think they Zara. To what new wonders am I now

call thee; reserv'd ?

Think that thou see'st 'em stretch their bloody Ob, sir! what mean you?

arms, Lus. Providence and heaven!


to win thee from their murd'rer's Oh, failing eyes, deceive ye not my hope?

bosom. Çan this be possible ?-Yes, yes, 'tís she! E'en in the place where thou betray'st thy God, This little cross-I know it by sure marks! He died, my child, to save thee! Oh! take me, heaven, while I can die with joy! Thou tremblest-Oh! admit me to thy soul; Zara, Ob, do not, sir, distract me! Rising Kill not thy aged, thy afflicted father; thoughts,

Shame not thy mother, nor renounce thy God.And hopes, and fears, d'erwhelm me! 'Tis past; repentance dawns in thy sweet eyes;

given 'em

my head


no more.

tell you

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I see bright truth descending to thy heart, With that Nerestan, whom thou know'stAnd now my long-lost child is found for ever.

thai Christian ! Zara. Oh, my father!

Oras. And have you, sir, indulg'd that Dear author of my life! inform teach


strange desire ? What should my duty do?

Osman. What mean'st thou? They were Lus. By one short word,

infant slaves together; To dry up all my tears, and make life wel- Frienus should part kind, who are to meet

come, Say thou art a Christian.

When Zara asks, I will refuse her nothing: Zara. Sir, I am a Christian.

Restraint was never made for those we love. Lus. Receive her, gracious heaven! and bless Down with those rigours of the proud seraglio! her for it.

I hate its Jaws; where blind austerity

Sinks virtue to necessity. – My blood

Disclaims your Asian jealousy; I hold
Oras. Madam, the sultan orderd me to The fierce, free plainness of my Scythian an-

cestors, That he expects you instant quit this place, Their open confidence, their honest hate, And bid your last farewell to these vile Chris- Their love unfearing, and their anger told. tians.

Go; the good Christian waits ; conduct him You, captive Frenchmen, follow me; for you

to ber; It is my task to answer:

Zara expects thee. What she wills, obey. Cha. Still new miseries!

[E.cit. How cautious man should be, to say, “I'm Oras. Ilo! Christian! enter.

happy!" Lus. These are the times, my friends, to

Enter NeRESTAN. try our firmness,

Wait a moment here. Our Christian firmness.

Zara will soon approach : I go to find her. [E.xit. Zara. Alas, sir! Oh!

Ner. In what a state, in what a place, i Lus. Oh, you!—I dare not name you!

leave her! Farewell! but, come what may, be sure re- Oh, faith! Oh, father! Oh, my poor, lost sister! member

She's here.
You keep the fatal secret: for the rest,
Leave all to heaven-be faithful, and be blest.

Enter ZARA.
[Exeunt. 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, Scene 1. Enter OSMAN and ORASMIN.

Shall never meet again; for LusignanOsman. Orasmin, this alarm was false and We shall be orphans still, and want a father. groundless;

Zara. Forbid it, heaven! Lewis no longer turns his arms on me; Ner. His last sad hour's at hand. The French, grown weary by a length of woes, That flow of joy, which follow'd our discovery, Wish not at once to quit their fruitful plains, Too strong and sudden for his age's weakness, And famish on Arabia's desert sands.

Wasting his spirits, dried the source of life, Their ships, 'tis true, have spread the Syrian seas: And nature yields him up to time's demand. And Lewis, hov'ring o'er the coast of Cyprus, Shall he not die in peace?-Oh! let no doubt Alarms the fears of Asia. - But I've learn'd, Disturb his parting moments with distrust; That, steering wide from our unmenac'd ports, Let me, when I return to close liis eyes, He points bis thunder at th’Egyptian shore. Compose his mind's impatience too, and tell There let him war, and waste my enemies ;

him, Their mutual conflict will but fix my throne. – You are confirm'd a Christian! Release those Christians; I restore their freedom: Zara. Oh! may his soul enjoy, in earth 'Twill please their master, nor can weaken me.

and heaven, Transport 'em, at my cost, to find their king. Eternal rest; nor let one thought, one sigh, I wish to have him know me. Carry thither One bold complaint of mine recall his cares! This Lusignan; whom, tell him, I restore, But you have injurd me, who still can doubt. Because I cannot fear his fame in arms, What! am I not your sister and shall you But love him for his virtue and his blood. Refuse me credit? You suppose me light ; Tell him, my father, having conquer'd Iwice, You, who should judge my honour by your Condemn’d him to perpetual chains; but I

own, Have set him free, that I might triumph more. Shall you distrust a truth I dar'd avow, Oras. The Christians gain an army in his And siamp apostate on a sister's heart? name.

Ner. Ah, do not misconceive me; if I eri'd, Osman. I cannot fear a sound.

Affection, not distrust, misled my fear; Oras. But, sir, should Lewis

Your will may be a Christian, yet not you; Osman. Tell Lewis, and the world, it shall There is a sacred mark, a sign of faith,

A pledge of promise, that inust firm you: Zara propos'd it, and my

claim, Thy statesman's reason is too dull for love! Wash

from guilt, and open

heaven beBut I talk on, and waste the smiling moments.

Swear, swear by all the woes we all have borne, For one long hour I yet defer my nuptials; By all the martyr'd sain!s who call you She would employ it in a conference


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be so:

heart approres.

fore you.

me ?

That you consent, this day, to seal our faith, Now to submit to see my sister doom'd
By that mysterious rite which waits your call. A bosom slave to him whose tyrant heart
Zara. I swear by heaven, and all its holy But measures glory by the Christian's woe.

Yes, I will dare acquaint our father with it
Its saints, its martyrs, its attesting angels, Departing Lusignan may live so long,
And the dread presence of its living author, As just to hear thy shame, and die to 'scape it
To have no faith but yours—to die a Christian! Žara. Stay, my too angry brother; stay,
Now tell me what this mystic faith requires.

perbaps, Ner. To hate the happiness of Osman's throne, Zara has resolution great as thine: And love that God, who, through his maze 'Tis cruel and unkind. Thy words are crimes; of woes,

My weakness but misfortune. Dost thou suffer? Has brought us all, unhoping, thus together. I suffer more. Oh! would to heaven this blood For me-I am a soldier, uninstructed, Of twenty boasted kings would stop at once, Nor daring to instruct, though strong in faith: And stagnate in my heart! It then no more But I will bring the ambassador of heaven, Would rush in boiling fevers through my veins, To clear your views, and lift you to your God. And every trembling drop be filld with Osman. Be it your task to gain admission for him. How has he lov'd me; how has he oblig'd me! But where? from whom? Ohl thou immortal I owe thee to him. What has he not done, power!

To justify his boundless pow'r of charming ? Whence can we hope it, in this curs’d seraglio? For me he softens the severe decrees Who is this slave of Osman? Yes, this slave! Of his own faith; and is it just that mine Does she not boast the blood of twenty kings ? Should bid me bate him, but because he loves Is not her race the same with that of Lewis? Is she not Lusignan's unbappy daughter ? No, I will be a Christian-but preserve A Christian and my sister?' yet a slave, My gratitude as sacred as my faith; A willing slave! I dare not speak more plainly. If I have death to fear for Osman's sake; Zaru. Cruel! go on-Alas! you do not It must be from his coldness, not his love. know me.

Ner. I must at once condemn and pity thee. At once, a stranger to my secret fate, flere then begin performance of thy vow; My pains, my fears, my: wishes, and my power: Here, in the trenibling borrors of thy soul, L'am-I will be Christian-will receive Promise thy king, thy father, and thy God, This boly priest with his mysterious blessing; Not to accomplish these detested nuptials, I will not do nor suffer aught unworthy Till first the rev'rend priest has clear'd your Myself, my father, or my father's race.

eyes, But tell me, nor be tender on this point, Taught you to know, and given you claim to What punishment your Christian laws decree,

heaven. For an unhappy wretch, who, to herself Promise me this. Unknown, and all abandon’d by the world, Zara. So bless me, beaven! I do. Lost and enslav'd, has, in her sovereign master, Go, hasten the good priest, I will expect him; Found a protector, generous as great,

But first return; cheer my expiring father; Has touch'd his heart, and given him all her Tell him I am, and will be, all he wishes me: own?

Tell him, to give him life 'twere joy to die. Ner. The punishment of such a slave should be Ner. I go. Farewell, farewell, unhappy Death in this world, and pain in that to come.


[Exit. Zara. I am that slave! Strike here, and Zara. I am alone;—and now be just, my

save my shame. Ner. Destruction to my bopes! Can it be And tell me wilt thou dare betray thy God?

What am I? what am I about to be? Zara. It is! ador'd by Osman, I adore him: Daughter of Lusignan, or wife to Osman? This hour the nuptial rites will make us one. Am I a lover most, or most a Christian? Ner. Wbat! marry Osman! Let the world What shall I do? What heart has strength grow dark,

to bear That the extinguish'd sun may hide thy shame! These double weights of duty ?-Help me, Could it be thus, it were no crime to kill thee.

heaven! Zara. Strike, strike! I love him! yes, by To thy hard Jaws I render up my soul: heav'n, I love him.

But, oh! demand it back, for now'lis Osman's. Ner. Death is thy due; but not thy, due from me:

Re-enter OsMAN. Yet, were the honour of our house no bar, Osman. Shine out, appear, be found, my My father's fame, and the too gentle laws

lovely Zara! of that religion which thou hast disgrac’d; Impatient eyes attend, the rites expect thee, Did not the God thou quit'st hold back my arm; And my devoted heart no longer brooks Not there, I could not there--but hy my soul, This distance from its softner: I would rush, desp'rate, to the sultan's breast, Come, my slow love, the ceremonies wait thee; And plunge my sword in his proud heart who come, and begin from this dear hour my damns thee.

triumph. Oh, shame! shame! shame! at such a time as Zara. Oh, what a wretch am I! Oh, grief! this,

Oh, love!

(Aside When Lewis, that awak'ner of the world, Osman. Nay, Zara, give me thy band, and Beneath the lifted cross makes Egypt pale, And draws the sword of heaven to spread our Zord. Instruct me, heaven! faith;

What I should say-alas! I cannot speak


you ?


a bliss

me think

Osman. Away! this modest, sweet, reluctant If it has been that Frenchman- What a thought! trilling

How low, bow horrid a suspicion that! But doubles my desires, and thy own beauties. But tell me, didst thou mark’em at their parting? Zara. Ah, me!

Didst thou obsorve the language of their eyes? Osman. Nay, but thou shouldst not be too lide nothing from me.- Is my love betray'd ? cruel.

Tell me my whole disgrace.—Nay, if thou Zara. I can no longer bear it.- Oh, my

trenublest, lord

I hear thy pity, speak, though thou art silent. Osman. Ha! What? whence? how ?

Oras. I tremble at the pangs I see you susser. Zara. My lord, my sovereign!

Let not your angry apprehensions urge Heaven knows this marriage would have been Your faithful slave to irritate your anguish.

I did, 'tis true, observe some parting tears; Above my humble hopes: yet, witness, love! But they were tears of charity and grief. Not from the grandeur of your throne, that I cannot think there was a cause deserving bliss,


of passion.
But from the pride of calling Osman mine. Osman. Why, no--I thank thee-
But as it is—these Christians-

Orasmin, thou art wise. It could not be Osman. Christians! Wbat!

That I should stand expos'd to such an insalt. How start two images into thy thoughts, Thou know'st, had Zara meant me the olsence, So distant, as the Christians and my love? She wants not wisdom to have hid it better. Zara. That good old Christian, rev'rend How rightly didst thou judge!-Zara shall Lusignan,

know it, Now dying, ends his life and woes together. And thank thy honest service. After all, Osman. Well, let bim die. What has thy Might she not-have some cause for tears, which ! heart to feel,

Claim no concern in-- but the grief it gives her? Thus pressing, and thus tender, from the death What an unlikely fear—from a poor slave of an old, wretched Christian ?—Thank our Who goes to-morrow, and, no doubt, who prophet,

wishes, Thou art no Christian.- Educated here, Nay, who resolves to see these climes no more. Thy happy youth was taught our better faith : Oras. Why did you, sir, against our counSweet as thy pity shines, 'tis now mistim'd.

try's custom, What! though an aged suff'rer dies unhappy, Indulge him with a second leave to come? Why should his foreign fate disturb our joys? He said he should return once more to see her. Zara. Sir, if you love me, and would have Osman. Return! the traitor! he return!

Dares he That I am truly dear

Presume to press a second interview ? Osman. Heaven! if I love?

Would he be seen again? He shall be seen; Zara. Permit me

But dead. I'll punish the audacious slave, Osman. What?

To teach the faithless fair to feel my anger. Zara. To desire

Be still, my transports; violence is blind? Osman. Speak out.

I know my heart at once is fierce and weak. Zara. The nuptial rites

Rather than fall May be deferr'd till

Beneath myself, I must, how dear soe'er Osman. What! Is that the voice

It costs me, rise-till I look down on Zara! Of Zara?

Away; but mark me-these seraglio doors, Zara. Oh, I cannot bear his frown. [Aside. Against all Christians be they henceforth shul, Osman. Of Zara!

Close as the dark retreats of silent death. Zara. It is dreadful to my heart,

[Erit Orasmin. To give you but a seeming cause for anger. What have I done, just heaven! thy rage to Pardon my grief-alas! I cannot bear it.

move? There is a painful terror in your eye

That thou shouldst sink me down so low to That pierces to my soul. Hid from your sight,


[Exit. I go to make a moment's truce with tears, And gather force to speak of my despair.

ACT IV. [Erit, disordered. Osman. I stand immoveable like senseless

SCENE I.-Enter ZARA and SELMA. marble;

Sel. Ah, madam! how at once I grieve your florror had frozen my suspended tongue,

fate, And an astonish'd silence robb’d my will And how admire your virtue! Heaven permits, Of power to tell her that she shock'd my soul. And heaven will give you strengib to bear Spoke sbe to me? Sure I misunderstood her.

misfortune; Could it be me she left ?-What have I seen? To break these chains, so strong and yet so dear.

Zara. Oh that I could suppori the fatal Re-enter ORAŞMIN.

struggle! Orasmin, what a change is here!-She's gone; Scl. Th'Eternal aids your weakness, sees And I permitted it, I know not how. Oras. Perhaps you but accuse the charıning Directs your purpose, and rewards your sor

fault Of innocence, too modest oft in love.

Zara. Never had wretch more cause to hope Osmun. But why, and whence those tears?

he does. those looks? that flight? Sel. What! though you here no more beChat grief, so strongly stamp'd on every feature?

bold your father:


your will,


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