And see him well secured, till Mahomet
Demands him of you.

Pal. Villain, hold! [Laying hold of ZAPHNA.
Mir. Away!

Zaph. Just, just reward of my credulity!
Pal. Let me go with him; I will share thy
fate,

Unhappy Zaphna, for I share thy guilt-
But then-

[Looking back at ALCANOR. Mir. No more-you must to Mahomet : Obey without reluctance: Our great prophet, In pity to your tender frame and years, Will take you under his divine protection. Pal. [Aside.] Oh death! deliver me from such protection!

Mir. If you would aught to save the destined Zaphna,

Follow me to the prophet; you may move him To mitigate his doom.-Away!

[To the soldiers who hold ZAPHNA. [TO PALMIRA.

SCENE I.

Enter MAHOMET and MIRVAN.

Zaph. Pardon

Pal. Oh, pardon

[They are led off by degrees, looking alternately at their father and each other.

Alc. Oh, insupportable!

Both from me torn, then, when I wanted most Their consolation!

Pha. Hark!

[A shout.

Mah. Wrong will be ever nursed and fed with blood!

So this boy bigot held his pious purpose?
Mir. Devoutly.

Mah. What reasonless machine
Can superstition make the reasoner man!
Alcanor lies there on his bed of earth?

Mir. This moment he expired, and Mecca's youth

In vain lament their chief. To the mad crowd
That gather'd round, good Ali and myself
(Full of thy dauntless heavenly-seeming spirit)
Disclaimed the deed, and pointed out the arm
Of righteous Heaven, that strikes for Mahomet.
Think ye, we cried (with eyes and hands uprear-
ed,)

Think ye our holy prophet would consent
To such a crime, whose foulness casts a blot
On right of nations, nature, and our faith?
Oh, rather think he will revenge his death,
And root his murder from the burdened earth!
Then struck our breasts, and wept the good old

The weak remaining billows of this storm
Will lash themselves to peace-But where is
Zaphna?

Mir. Safe in a dungeon, where he dies apace.
Ere at the altar's foot he slew his sire,
In his own veins he bore his guilt's reward,
A deadly draught of poison.

Mah. I would be kind, and let him die deceived,

Nor know that parent-blood defiles his soul.
Mir. He cannot know it: if the grave be si-
lent,
I'm sure Hercides is.

Mah. Unhappy Zaphna!
Something like pity checks me for thy death.
But why-I must not think that way-shall Ma-
homet

Give a new paradise to all mankind,

And let remorse of conscience be the hell
Of his own breast! My safety claimed his life,
And all the heaven of fair Palmira's charms
Shall be my great reward.

On themes of guilt, when that pure angel's near? Mir. The weeping fair, led on by flattering hope

Of Zaphna's life, attends your sacred will:
A silent pale dejection shrouds her cheeks,
And, like the lily in a morning shower,
She droops her head and locks up all her sweets.
Mah. Say Mahomet awaits, and then
Assemble all our chiefs, and on this platform
Let them attend me straight. [Exit MIRVAN.
Enter PALMIRA with attendants.

Pal. [Apart.] Where have they led me?
Methinks each step I take, the mangled corse
Of my dear father (by poor Zaphna mangled)
Lies in my way, and all I see is blood-

[Starting. 'Tis the impostor's self!-Burst, heart, in silence. Mah. Maid, lay aside this dread. Palmira's fate,

And that of Mecca, by my will is fixed.
This great event, that fills thy soul with horror,
Is mystery to all but Heaven and Mahomet.
Pal. Oh, ever righteous Heaven! canst thou

suffer

This sacrilegious hypocrite, this spoiler,
To steal thy terrors, and blaspheme thy name,
Nor doom him instant dead?

Muh. Child of my care,

[Aside.

[Aside.

At length from galling chains I've set thee free,
And made thee triumph in a just revenge;
Think then thou'rt dear to me, and Mahomet
Regards thee with a more than father's eye;
Then know (if thou'lt deserve the mighty boon)
An higher name, a nobler fate, awaits thee.
Pal. What would the tyrant?-
Muh. Raise thy thoughts to glory,
And sweep this Žaphna from thy memory,
With all that's past-Let that mean flame expire
Before the blaze of empire's radiant sun.
Thy grateful heart must answer to my bounties,
Follow my laws, and share in all my conquests.

Pal. What laws, what bounties, and what conquests, tyrant?

Fraud is thy law, the tomb thy only bounty,
Thy conquests fatal as infected air,
Dispeopling half the globe--See here, good Hea-
ven!

The venerable prophet I revered,

The king I served, the god that I adored! Mah. [Approaching her.] Whence this unwonted language, this wild frenzy ? Pal. Where is the spirit of my martyred father?

Where Zaphna's, where Palmira's innocence ? Blasted by thee, by thee, infernal monsterThou found'st us angels, and hast made us fiends; Give, give us back our lives, our fame, our virtue: Thou canst not, tyrant--yet thou seek'st my love,

Scek'st with Alcanor's blood his daughter's love! Mah. [Apart.] Horror and death! the fatal secret's known.

And the insatiate tomb ripe to devour us!
Hercides' parting breath divulged the secret.
The prison's forced, the city all in arms:
See where they bear aloft their murdered chief,
Fell Zaphna in their front, death in his looks,
Rage all his strength. Spite of the deadly draught,
He holds in life but to make sure of vengeance.
Mah. What dost thou here, then? instant
with our guards,

Attempt to stem their progress, till the arrival
Of Omar with the troops.

Mir. I haste, my lord.

[Exit MIRVAN. Pal. Now, now, my hour's at hand! Hear'st thou those shouts, that rend the ambient air?

Seest thou those glancing fires, that add new horrors

To the night's gloom? fresh from thy murdering poignard,

My father's spirit leads the vengeful shades
Of all the wretches whom thy sword has but-
chered :

I see them raise their unsubstantial arms
To snatch me from thy rage, or worse, thy love.
Shadows shall conquer in Palmira's cause.

Mah. [Aside.] What terror's this, that hangs upon her accents?

I feel her virtue, though I know her weakness. Pal. Thou ask'st my love; go seek it in the

Behold thy dearest blood spilt at thy feet!
Mecca, Medina, all our Asian world,
Join, join to drive the impostor from the earth!
Blush at his chains, and shake them off in ven-
geance!

Mah. [Aside.] Be still, my soul, nor let a woman's rage

Ruffle thy wonted calm.-Spite of thy hate,
Thou art lovely still, and charming even in mad-
ness. [A shout and noise of fighting.
My fair, retire; nor let thy gentle soul
Shake with alarms; thou art my peculiar care:
I go to quell this traitorous insurrection,
And will attend thee straight.

Pal. No, tyrant, no;

I'll join my brother, help to head our friends,
And urge them on.
[A shout.
Roll, roll your thunders, heavens, and aid the
storm!

Now hurl your lightning on the guilty head,
And plead the cause of injured innocence!

Enter ALI.

Mah. Whence, Ali, that surprise ? Ali. My royal chief,

[Exit PAL.

The foe prevails. Thy troops, led on by Mirvan,

Are all cut off, and valiant Mirvan's self,
By Zaphna slain, lies weltering in his blood:
The guard, that to our arms should ope the
gates,

Struck with the common phrenzy, vow thy ruin,
And death and vengeance is the general cry!
Mah. Can Ali fear? then, Mahomet, be thy-
self!

Ali. See, thy few friends, whom wild despair hath armed,

(But armed in vain) are come to die beside thee.

Mah. Ye heartless traitors! Mahomet alone Shall be his own defender, and your guard Against the crowds of Mecca-Follow me. Ha!

Enter ZAPHNA, PALMIRA, and PHARON, with

citizens, and the body of ALCANOR on a bier. Zaph. See, sec, my friends, where the Impostor stands,

With head erect, as if he knew not guilt,
As if no tongue spake from Alcanor's wounds,
Nor called for vengeance on him.

Mah. Impious man!

Is it not enough to have spilt thy parent-blood,
But, with atrocious and blaspheming lips,
Dar'st thou arraign the substitute of Heaven!
Zaph. The substitute of Heaven! so is the
sword,

The pestilence, the famine; such art thou;
Such are the blessings Heaven has sent to man
By thee its delegate; nay, more, to me.—
Oh, he took pains, Palmira, upon us;
Deluded us into such monstrous crimes
As nature sickened at conception of!-
How couldst thou damn us thus ?
Mah. Babbler, avaunt!

Zaph. Well thou upbraid'st me; for to parley with thee

Half brands me coward. Oh, revenge me, friends!
Revenge Alcanor's massacre; revenge
Palmira's wrongs, and crush the rancorous mon-
ster!

Mah. Hear me, ye slaves, born to obey my will!

Pal. Ah, hear him not! fraud dwells upon

his tongue.

Zaph. Have at thee, fiend-Ha! Heaven! [ZAPHNA advancing, reels, and reclines on his sword. What cloud is this

That thwarts upon my sight? My head grows dizzy,

My joints unloose; sure 'tis the stroke of Fate. Mah. [Aside.] The poison works! then triumph, Mahomet!

Zaph. Off, off, base lethargy!

Pal. Brother, dismayed!

Hast thou not power but in a guilty cause,
And only strength to be a parricide?
Zaph. Spare that reproach-Come on-It will
not be;

[Hangs down his sword, and reclines on
PHARON.

Pal. Oh, my brother!

Zuph. In vain's the guiltless meaning of my heart;

High heaven detests the involuntary crime,
And dooms for parricide-Then tremble, tyrant!
If the Supreme can punish errors thus,
What new-invented tortures must await
Thy soul, grown leprous with such foul offences!
But soft-now Fate and Nature are at strife-
Sister, farewell! with transport should I quit
This toilsome, perilous, delusive stage,
But that I leave thee on it: leave thee, Palmira,
Exposed to what is worse than fear can image,
That tyrant's mercy; but I know thee brave;
Know that thou'lt act a part-Look on her, Hea-

ven,

Guide her, and-oh!

[Dies.

Pal. Think not, ye men of Mecca, This death inflicted by the hand of heaven; 'Tis he-that viper—

Mah. Know, ye faithless wretches! "Tis mine to deal the bolts of angry heaven; Behold them there, and let the wretch, who doubts,

Tremble at Zaphna's fate; and know, that Mahomet

Can read his thoughts, and doom him with a look.

Go then, and thank your pontiff and your prince For each day's sun he grants you to behold. Hence to your temples, and appease my rage! [The people go off. Pal. Ah, stay! my brother's murdered by this tyrant:

By poison, not by piety, he kills.

Mah. 'Tis done- -Thus ever be our law received!

Now, fair Palmira

Pal. Monster is it thus

[Apart.

Thou mak'st thyself a god, by added crimes,
And murders justified by sacrilege?

Mah. Think, exquisite Palmira! for thy sake-
Pal. Thou'st been the murderer of all my

race.

See where Alcanor, see where Zaphna, lies;
Do they not call for me too at thy hands?
Oh that they did! But I can read thy thoughts;

Mah. What hast thou done! Pal. A deed of glory, tyrant! Thou hast left no object worth Palmira's eyes, And, when I shut out light, I shut out thee

[Dies.

Mah. Farewell, dear victim of my boundless passion!

The price of treachery, the reward of murder, Sink with thee to the earth-Oh, justice, justice!

In vain are glory, worship, and dominion!
All conqueror as I am, I am a slave,

And, by the world adored, dwell with the damned!

My crimes have planted scorpions in my breast;
Here, here, I feel them. 'Tis in vain to brave
The host of terrors, that invade my soul:
I might deceive the world, myself I cannot.
Ali. Be calm a while, my lord think what

transport me

To nature's loneliest mansion, where the sun
Ne'er entered, where the sound of human tread
Was never heard-But wherefore? still I there,
There still, shall find myself-Ay, that's the hell!
I'll none on't.
[Drawing his sword.

Ali. Heavens! help, hold him!

Mah. Paltry dastards!

[ALI, &c. disarm him.

You fled the foe, but can disarm your master! Angel of death, whose power I've long proclaimed,

Now aid me, if thou canst; now, if thou canst,
Draw the kind curtain of eternal night,
And shroud me from the horrors that beset me!
[Exeunt MAHOMET, &c.

Pha. Oh! what a curse is life, when self-conviction

Flings our offences hourly in our face,
And turns existence torturer to itself!
Here let the mad enthusiast turn his eyes,
And see from bigotry what horrors rise;
Here in the blackest colours let him read,
That zeal, by craft misled, may act a deed,
By which both innocence and virtue bleed.
[Exeunt omnes.

LONG has the shameful licence of the age
With senseless ribaldry disgrac'd the stage;
So much indecencies have been in vogue,
They pleaded custom in the epilogue,
As if the force of reason was a yoke
So heavy-they must ease it with a joke ;
Disarm the moral of its virtuous sway,
Or else the audience go displeas'd away.
How have I blush'd to see a tragic queen
With ill-timed mirth disgrace the well-wrote

scene;

From all the sad solemnity of woe
Trip nimbly forth-to ridicule a beau:

Then, as the loosest airs she had been gleaning,

Coquette the fan, and leer a double meaning! Shame on those arts that prostitute the bays! Shame on the bard who this way hopes for praise!

The bold but honest author of to-night Disdains to please you, if he please not right; If, in his well-meant scene, your chance to find Aught to ennoble or enlarge the mind; If he has found the means, with honest art, To fix the noblest wishes in the heart, In softer accents to inform the fair, How bright they look when virtue drops the tear, Enjoy with friendly welcome the repast, | And keep the heart-felt relish to the last.

BY

BOLD is the man, who, in this nicer age,
Presumes to tread the chaste corrected stage.
Now, with gay tinsel arts, we can no more
Conceal the want of nature's sterling ore;
Our spells are vanish'd, broke our magic wand,
That us'd to waft you over sea and land;
Before your light the fairy people fade,
The demons fly, the ghost itself is laid.
In vain of martial scenes the loud alarms,
The mighty prompter thund'ring out to arms,
The play-house posse clattering from afar,
The close-wedged battle and the din of war.
Now, even the senate seldom we convene;
The yawning fathers nod behind the scene.
Your taste rejects the glittering false sublime,
To sigh in metaphor, and die in rhyme.