Complete works of samuel.., p.602

Complete Works of Samuel Johnson, page 602

 

Complete Works of Samuel Johnson
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  Perhaps, in vain the sultan’s anger spar’d me,

  To find a meaner fate from treach’rous friendship —

  Abdalla! —

  DEMETRIUS.

  Can Abdalla then dissemble!

  That fiery chief, renown’d for gen’rous freedom,

  For zeal unguarded, undissembled hate,

  For daring truth, and turbulence of honour!

  ASPASIA.

  This open friend, this undesigning hero,

  With noisy falsehoods, forc’d me from your arms,

  To shock my virtue with a tale of love.

  DEMETRIUS.

  Did not the cause of Greece restrain my sword,

  Aspasia should not fear a second insult.

  ASPASIA.

  His pride and love, by turns, inspir’d his tongue,

  And intermix’d my praises with his own;

  His wealth, his rank, his honours, he recounted,

  Till, in the midst of arrogance and fondness,

  Th’ approaching sultan forc’d me from the palace;

  Then, while he gaz’d upon his yielding mistress,

  I stole, unheeded, from their ravish’d eyes,

  And sought this happy grove in quest of thee.

  DEMETRIUS.

  Soon may the final stroke decide our fate,

  Lest baleful discord crush our infant scheme,

  And strangled freedom perish in the birth!

  ASPASIA.

  My bosom, harass’d with alternate passions,

  Now hopes, now fears —

  DEMETRIUS.

  Th’ anxieties of love.

  ASPASIA.

  Think, how the sov’reign arbiter of kingdoms

  Detests thy false associates’ black designs,

  And frowns on perjury, revenge, and murder.

  Embark’d with treason on the seas of fate,

  When heaven shall bid the swelling billows rage,

  And point vindictive lightnings at rebellion,

  Will not the patriot share the traitor’s danger?

  Oh! could thy hand, unaided, free thy country,

  Nor mingled guilt pollute the sacred cause!

  DEMETRIUS.

  Permitted oft, though not inspir’d, by heaven,

  Successful treasons punish impious kings.

  ASPASIA.

  Nor end my terrours with the sultan’s death;

  Far as futurity’s untravell’d waste

  Lies open to conjecture’s dubious ken,

  On ev’ry side confusion, rage, and death,

  Perhaps, the phantoms of a woman’s fear,

  Beset the treach’rous way with fatal ambush;

  Each Turkish bosom burns for thy destruction,

  Ambitious Cali dreads the statesman’s arts,

  And hot Abdalla hates the happy lover.

  DEMETRIUS.

  Capricious man! to good and ill inconstant,

  Too much to fear or trust is equal weakness.

  Sometimes the wretch, unaw’d by heav’n or hell,

  With mad devotion idolizes honour.

  The bassa, reeking with his master’s murder,

  Perhaps, may start at violated friendship.

  ASPASIA.

  How soon, alas! will int’rest, fear, or envy,

  O’erthrow such weak, such accidental virtue,

  Nor built on faith, nor fortified by conscience!

  DEMETRIUS.

  When desp’rate ills demand a speedy cure,

  Distrust is cowardice, and prudence folly.

  ASPASIA.

  Yet, think a moment, ere you court destruction,

  What hand, when death has snatch’d away Demetrius,

  Shall guard Aspasia from triumphant lust.

  DEMETRIUS.

  Dismiss these needless fears — a troop of Greeks,

  Well known, long try’d, expect us on the shore.

  Borne on the surface of the smiling deep,

  Soon shalt thou scorn, in safety’s arms repos’d,

  Abdalla’s rage and Cali’s stratagems.

  ASPASIA.

  Still, still, distrust sits heavy on my heart.

  Will e’er a happier hour revisit Greece?

  DEMETRIUS.

  Should heav’n, yet unappeas’d, refuse its aid,

  Disperse our hopes, and frustrate our designs,

  Yet shall the conscience of the great attempt

  Diffuse a brightness on our future days;

  Nor will his country’s groans reproach Demetrius.

  But how canst thou support the woes of exile?

  Canst thou forget hereditary splendours,

  To live obscure upon a foreign coast,

  Content with science, innocence, and love?

  ASPASIA.

  Nor wealth, nor titles, make Aspasia’s bliss.

  O’erwhelm’d and lost amidst the publick ruins,

  Unmov’d, I saw the glitt’ring trifles perish,

  And thought the petty dross beneath a sigh.

  Cheerful I follow to the rural cell;

  Love be my wealth, and my distinction virtue.

  DEMETRIUS.

  Submissive, and prepar’d for each event,

  Now let us wait the last award of heav’n,

  Secure of happiness from flight or conquest;

  Nor fear the fair and learn’d can want protection.

  The mighty Tuscan courts the banish’d arts

  To kind Italia’s hospitable shades;

  There shall soft leisure wing th’ excursive soul,

  And peace, propitious, smile on fond desire;

  There shall despotick eloquence resume

  Her ancient empire o’er the yielding heart;

  There poetry shall tune her sacred voice,

  And wake from ignorance the western world.

  SCENE II.

  DEMETRIUS, ASPASIA, CALI.

  CALI.

  At length th’ unwilling sun resigns the world

  To silence and to rest. The hours of darkness,

  Propitious hours to stratagem and death,

  Pursue the last remains of ling’ring light.

  DEMETRIUS.

  Count not these hours, as parts of vulgar time;

  Think them a sacred treasure lent by heaven,

  Which, squander’d by neglect, or fear, or folly,

  No prayer recalls, no diligence redeems.

  To-morrow’s dawn shall see the Turkish king

  Stretch’d in the dust, or tow’ring on his throne;

  To-morrow’s dawn shall see the mighty Cali

  The sport of tyranny, or lord of nations.

  CALI.

  Then waste no longer these important moments

  In soft endearments, and in gentle murmurs;

  Nor lose, in love, the patriot and the hero.

  DEMETRIUS.

  ’Tis love, combin’d with guilt alone, that melts

  The soften’d soul to cowardice and sloth;

  But virtuous passion prompts the great resolve,

  And fans the slumbering spark of heavenly fire.

  Retire, my fair; that pow’r that smiles on goodness,

  Guide all thy steps, calm ev’ry stormy thought,

  And still thy bosom with the voice of peace!

  ASPASIA.

  Soon may we meet again, secure and free,

  To feel no more the pangs of separation! [Exit.

  DEMETRIUS, CALI.

  DEMETRIUS.

  This night alone is ours — Our mighty foe,

  No longer lost in am’rous solitude,

  Will now remount the slighted seat of empire,

  And show Irene to the shouting people:

  Aspasia left her, sighing in his arms,

  And list’ning to the pleasing tale of pow’r;

  With soften’d voice she dropp’d the faint refusal,

  Smiling consent she sat, and blushing love.

  CALI.

  Now, tyrant, with satiety of beauty

  Now feast thine eyes; thine eyes, that ne’er hereafter

  Shall dart their am’rous glances at the fair,

  Or glare on Cali with malignant beams.

  SCENE III.

  DEMETRIUS, CALI, LEONTIUS, ABDALLA.

  LEONTIUS.

  Our bark, unseen, has reach’d th’ appointed bay,

  And, where yon trees wave o’er the foaming surge,

  Reclines against the shore: our Grecian troop

  Extends its lines along the sandy beach,

  Elate with hope, and panting for a foe.

  ABDALLA.

  The fav’ring winds assist the great design,

  Sport in our sails, and murmur o’er the deep.

  CALI.

  ’Tis well — A single blow completes our wishes;

  Return with speed, Leontius, to your charge;

  The Greeks, disorder’d by their leader’s absence,

  May droop dismay’d, or kindle into madness.

  LEONTIUS.

  Suspected still! — What villain’s pois’nous tongue

  Dares join Leontius’ name with fear or falsehood?

  Have I for this preserv’d my guiltless bosom,

  Pure as the thoughts of infant innocence?

  Have I for this defy’d the chiefs of Turkey,

  Intrepid in the flaming front of war?

  CALI.

  Hast thou not search’d my soul’s profoundest thoughts?

  Is not the fate of Greece and Cali thine?

  LEONTIUS.

  Why has thy choice then pointed out Leontius,

  Unfit to share this night’s illustrious toils?

  To wait, remote from action, and from honour,

  An idle list’ner to the distant cries

  Of slaughter’d infidels, and clash of swords?

  Tell me the cause, that while thy name, Demetrius,

  Shall soar, triumphant on the wings of glory,

  Despis’d and curs’d, Leontius must descend

  Through hissing ages, a proverbial coward,

  The tale of women, and the scorn of fools?

  DEMETRIUS.

  Can brave Leontius be the slave of glory?

  Glory, the casual gift of thoughtless crowds!

  Glory, the bribe of avaricious virtue!

  Be but my country free, be thine the praise;

  I ask no witness, but attesting conscience,

  No records, but the records of the sky.

  LEONTIUS.

  Wilt thou then head the troop upon the shore,

  While I destroy th’ oppressor of mankind?

  DEMETRIUS.

  What canst thou boast superiour to Demetrius?

  Ask, to whose sword the Greeks will trust their cause,

  My name shall echo through the shouting field:

  Demand, whose force yon Turkish heroes dread,

  The shudd’ring camp shall murmur out Demetrius.

  CALI

  Must Greece, still wretched by her children’s folly,

  For ever mourn their avarice or factions?

  Demetrius justly pleads a double title;

  The lover’s int’rest aids the patriot’s claim.

  LEONTIUS.

  My pride shall ne’er protract my country’s woes;

  Succeed, my friend, unenvied by Leontius.

  DEMETRIUS.

  I feel new spirit shoot along my nerves;

  My soul expands to meet approaching freedom.

  Now hover o’er us, with propitious wings,

  Ye sacred shades of patriots and of martyrs!

  All ye, whose blood tyrannick rage effus’d,

  Or persecution drank, attend our call;

  I And from the mansions of perpetual peace

  Descend, to sweeten labours, once your own!

  CALI.

  Go then, and with united eloquence

  Confirm your troops; and, when the moon’s fair beam

  Plays on the quiv’ring waves, to guide our flight,

  Return, Demetrius, and be free for ever.

  [Exeunt Dem. and Leon.

  SCENE IV.

  CALI, ABDALLA.

  ABDALLA.

  How the new monarch, swell’d with airy rule,

  Looks down, contemptuous, from his fancy’d height,

  And utters fate, unmindful of Abdalla!

  CALI.

  Far be such black ingratitude from Cali!

  When Asia’s nations own me for their lord,

  Wealth, and command, and grandeur shall be thine!

  ABDALLA.

  Is this the recompense reserv’d for me?

  Dar’st thou thus dally with Abdalla’s passion?

  Henceforward, hope no more my slighted friendship;

  Wake from thy dream of power to death and tortures,

  And bid thy visionary throne farewell.

  CALI.

  Name, and enjoy thy wish —

  ABDALLA.

  I need not name it;

  Aspasia’s lovers know but one desire,

  Nor hope, nor wish, nor live, but for Aspasia.

  CALI.

  That fatal beauty, plighted to Demetrius,

  Heaven makes not mine to give.

  ABDALLA.

  Nor to deny.

  CALI.

  Obtain her, and possess; thou know’st thy rival.

  ABDALLA.

  Too well I know him, since, on Thracia’s plains,

  I felt the force of his tempestuous arm,

  And saw my scatter’d squadrons fly before him.

  Nor will I trust th’ uncertain chance of combat;

  The rights of princes let the sword decide,

  The petty claims of empire and of honour:

  Revenge and subtle jealousy shall teach

  A surer passage to his hated heart.

  CALI.

  Oh! spare the gallant Greek, in him we lose

  The politician’s arts, and hero’s flame.

  ABDALLA.

  When next we meet, before we storm the palace,

  The bowl shall circle to confirm our league;

  Then shall these juices taint Demetrius’ draught,

  [Showing a phial.

  And stream, destructive, through his freezing veins:

  Thus shall he live to strike th’ important blow,

  And perish, ere he taste the joys of conquest.

  SCENE V.

  MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, CALI, ABDALLA.

  MAHOMET.

  Henceforth, for ever happy be this day,

  Sacred to love, to pleasure, and Irene!

  The matchless fair has bless’d me with compliance;

  Let every tongue resound Irene’s praise,

  And spread the gen’ral transport through mankind.

  CALI.

  Blest prince, for whom indulgent heav’n ordains,

  At once, the joys of paradise and empire,

  Now join thy people’s and thy Cali’s prayers;

  Suspend thy passage to the seats of bliss,

  Nor wish for houries in Irene’s arms.

  MAHOMET.

  Forbear — I know the long-try’d faith of Cali.

  CALI.

  Oh! could the eyes of kings, like those of heav’n,

  Search to the dark recesses of the soul,

  Oft would they find ingratitude and treason,

  By smiles, and oaths, and praises, ill disguis’d.

  How rarely would they meet, in crowded courts,

  Fidelity so firm, so pure, as mine.

  MUSTAPHA.

  Yet, ere we give our loosen’d thoughts to rapture,

  Let prudence obviate an impending danger:

  Tainted by sloth, the parent of sedition,

  The hungry janizary burns for plunder,

  And growls, in private, o’er his idle sabre.

  MAHOMET.

  To still their murmurs, ere the twentieth sun

  Shall shed his beams upon the bridal bed,

  I rouse to war, and conquer for Irene.

  Then shall the Rhodian mourn his sinking tow’rs,

  And Buda fall, and proud Vienna tremble;

  Then shall Venetia feel the Turkish pow’r,

  And subject seas roar round their queen in vain.

  ABDALLA.

  Then seize fair Italy’s delightful coast,

  To fix your standard in imperial Rome.

  MAHOMET.

  Her sons malicious clemency shall spare,

  To form new legends, sanctify new crimes;

  To canonize the slaves of superstition,

  And fill the world with follies and impostures,

  Till angry heav’n shall mark them out for ruin,

  And war o’erwhelm them in their dream of vice.

  O! could her fabled saints and boasted prayers

  Call forth her ancient heroes to the field,

  How should I joy, midst the fierce shock of nations,

  To cross the tow’rings of an equal soul,

  And bid the master-genius rule the world!

  Abdalla, Cali, go — proclaim my purpose.

  [Exeunt Cali and Abdalla.

  SCENE VI.

  MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA.

  MAHOMET.

  Still Cali lives: and must he live to-morrow?

  That fawning villain’s forc’d congratulations

  Will cloud my triumphs, and pollute the day.

  MUSTAPHA.

  With cautious vigilance, at my command,

  Two faithful captains, Hasan and Caraza,

  Pursue him through his labyrinths of treason,

  And wait your summons to report his conduct.

  MAHOMET.

  Call them — but let them not prolong their tale,

  Nor press, too much, upon a lover’s patience.

  [Exit Mustapha.

  SCENE VII.

  Mahomet, Solus.

  Whome’er the hope, still blasted, still renew’d,

  Of happiness lures on from toil to toil,

  Remember Mahomet, and cease thy labour.

  Behold him here, in love, in war, successful;

  Behold him, wretched in his double triumph!

  His fav’rite faithless, and his mistress base.

  Ambition only gave her to my arms,

  By reason not convinc’d, nor won by love.

  Ambition was her crime; but meaner folly

  Dooms me to loathe, at once, and dote on falsehood,

  And idolize th’ apostate I contemn.

  If thou art more than the gay dream of fancy,

  More than a pleasing sound, without a meaning,

  O happiness! sure thou art all Aspasia’s.

  SCENE VIII.

  MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, HASAN, CARAZA.

  MAHOMET.

  Caraza, speak — have ye remark’d the bassa?

  CARAZA.

 

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