I mixt among the tumult of the warriors
Returning from the battle: here, a troop
Of hardy Parthians, red with honest wounds,
Cónfessed the conquest they had well deserved:
There, a dejected crew of wretched captives,
Sore with unprofitable hurts, and groaning
Under new bondage, followed sadly after
The haughty victor's heels. But that, which fully
Crowned the success of Tamerlane, was Bajazet,
Fallen, like the proud archangel, from the height
Where once (even next to majesty divine)
Enthroned he sat, down to the vile descent
And lowness of a slave: but, oh! to speak
The rage, the fierceness, and the indignation!
It bars all words, and cuts description short.
Mon. Then he is fallen! that comet which on
high

Portended ruin; he has spent his blaze,

And shall distract the world with fears no more.
Sure it must bode me well; for oft my soul
Has started into tumult at his name,
As if my guardian angel took the alarm,
At the approach of somewhat mortal to me.
But say, my friend, what hear'st thou of Arpásia?
For there my thoughts, my every care is cen-

tered.

Stra. Though on that purpose still I bent my search,

Yet nothing certain could I gain, but this;
That in the pillage of the sultan's tent
Some women were made prisoners, who, this
morning,

Were to be offered to the emperor's view :
Their names and qualities, though oft enquiring,
I could not learn.

Mon. Then must my soul still labour Beneath uncertainty and anxious doubt, The mind's worst state. The tyrant's ruin gives

me

But a half ease.

Stra. 'Twas said, not far from hence The captives were to wait the emperor's passage. Mon. Haste we to find the place.-Oh, my Arpasia!

Shall we not meet? Why hangs my heart thus heavy,

Like death, within my bosom? Oh! 'tis well,
The joy of meeting pays the pangs of absence,
Else who could bear it?

When thy loved sight shall bless my eyes again,
Then I will own I ought not to complain,
Since that sweet hour is worth whole years of pain.
[Exeunt MONESES and STRATOCLES.

SCENE II.—The inside of a magnificent Tent.
Symphony of warlike Music.
Enter TAMERLANE, AXALLA, Prince of TA-
NAIS, ZAMA, MIRVAN, Soldiers, and other
Attendants.

Ar. From this auspicious day the Parthian

name

Shall date its birth of empire, and extend Even from the dawning east to utmost Thule, The limits of its sway.

Pr. Nations unknown,

Where yet the Roman eagle never flew,
Shall pay their homage to victorious Tamerlane;
Bend to his valour and superior virtue,
And own, that conquest is not given by chance,
But, bound by fatal and resistless merit,
Waits on his arms.

Tam. It is too much: you dress me
Like an usurper, in the borrowed attributes
Of injured Heaven. Can we call conquest ours?
Shall man, this pigmy, with a giant's pride,
Vaunt of himself, and say, Thus have I done
this?"

Oh, vain pretence to greatness! Like the moon, We borrow all the brightness which we boast, Dark in ourselves, and useless. If that hand, That rules the fate of battles, strike for us, Crown us with fame, and gild our clay with ho

nour,

'Twere most ungrateful to disown the benefit, And arrogate a praise which is not ours.

Ar. With such unshaken temper of the soul To bear the swelling tide of prosperous fortune, Is to deserve that fortune: in adversity The mind grows tough by buffetting the tempest, Which, in success dissolving, sinks to ease, And loses all her firmness.

Tam. Oh, Axalla!

Could I forget I am a man as thou art,
Would not the winter's cold, or summer's heat,
Sickness, or thirst, and hunger, all the train
Of nature's clamorous appetites, asserting
An equal right in kings and common men,
Reprove me daily?-No-If I boast of aught,
Be it to have been Heaven's happy instrument,
The means of good to all my fellow creatures:
This is a king's best praise.

Enter OMAR.

Om. Honour and fame [Bowing to TAMERLANE For ever wait the emperor! May our prophet Give him ten thousand thousand days of life, And every day like this! The captive sultan, Fierce in his bonds, and at his fate repining, Attends your sacred will.

Tam. Let him approach.

Enter BAJAZET, and other Turkish Prisoners
in chains, with a guard of Soldiers.
When I survey the ruins of this field,
The wild destruction which thy fierce ambition
Has dealt among mankind (so many widows
And helpless orphans has thy battle made,
That half our eastern world this day are mourn

As at the head of battle, does defy thee:
I know what power the chance of war has given,
And dare thee to the use on't. This vile speech-
ing,

This after-game of words, is what most irks me;
Spare that, and for the rest 'tis equal all-
e it as it may.

Tam. Well was it for the world,
When on their borders neighbouring princes met,
Frequent in friendly parle, by cool debates
Preventing wasteful war: such should our meet-
ing

Have been, hadst thou but held in just regard
The sanctity of leagues so often sworn to.
Canst thou believe thy prophet, or, what's more,
That power supreme, which made thee and thy
prophet,

Will, with impunity, let pass that breach
Of sacred faith given to the royal Greek?

Baj. Thou pedant talker! ha! art thou a king, Possest of sacred power, Heaven's darling attribute,

And dost thou prate of leagues, and oaths, and prophets!

I hate the Greek (perdition on his name!)
As I do thee, and would have met you both,
As death does human nature, for destruction.

Tam. Causeless to hate, is not of human kind: The savage brute, that haunts in woods remote And desart wilds, tears not the fearful traveller, If hunger, or some injury, provoke not.

Baj. Can a king want a cause, when empire

bids

Go on? What is he born for, but ambition?
It is his hunger, 'tis his call of nature,
The noble appetite which will be satisfied,
And, like the food of gods, makes him immortal.
Tam. Henceforth I will not wonder we were
foes,

Since souls, that differ so, by nature hate,
And strong antipathy forbids their union.
Baj. The noble fire, that warms me, does in-
deed

Transcend thy coldness. I am pleased we differ,
Nor think alike.

Tam. No-for I think like man;

Thou, like a monster, from whose baneful pre

sence

To dress up this tame king, this preaching dervise?

Unfit for war, thou shouldst have lived secure
In lazy peace, and, with debating senates,
Shared a precarious sceptre, sat tamely still,
And let bold factions canton out thy power,
And wrangle for the spoils they robbed thee of;
Whilst I (curse on the power that stops my ar-
dour!)

Would, like a tempest, rush amidst the nations,
Be greatly terrible, and deal, like Alla,
My angry thunder on the frighted world.

Tam. The world !-'twould be too little for thy
pride:

Thou wouldst scale heaven

Baj. I would:-Away! my soul Disdains thy conference.

Tam. Thou vain, rash thing,
That, with gigantic insolence, hast dared
To lift thy wretched self above the stars,
And mate with power Almighty-thou art fallen!
Baj. 'Tis false! I am not fallen from aught I
have been;

At least my soul resolves to keep her state,
And scorns to take acquaintance with ill-fortune.

Tam. Almost beneath my pity art thou fallen; Since, while the avenging hand of Heaven is ou

thee,

And presses to the dust thy swelling soul,
Fool-hardy, with the stronger thou contendest.
To what vast heights had thy tumultuous temper
Been hurried, if success had crowned thy wishes!
Say, what had I to expect, if thou hadst con-
quered?

Baj. Oh, glorious thought! By Heaven I will enjoy it,

Though but in fancy; imagination shall
Make room to entertain the vast idea.
Oh! had I been the master but of yesterday,
The world, the world had felt me; and for thee,
I had used thee, as thou art to me a dog,
The object of my scorn and mortal hatred :
I would have taught thy neck to know my weight,
And mounted from that footstool to my saddle:
Then, when thy daily servile task was done,
I would have caged thee, for the scorn of slaves,
Till thou hadst begged to die; and even that
mercy

I had denied thee. Now thou know'st my mind,
And question me no farther.

Tam. Well dost thou teach me, What justice should exact from thee. Mankind, With one consent, cry out for vengeance on thee: Loudly they call, to cut off this league-breaker, This wild destroyer, from the face of earth.

Baj. Do it, and rid thy shaking soul at once Of its worst fear.

Tam. Why slept the thunder, That should have armed the idol deity, And given thee power, ere yester sun was set, To shake the soul of Tamerlane? Hadst thou an

arm

To make thee feared, thou shouldst have proved

it on me,

Amidst the sweat and blood of yonder field,

7

And form thyself to manhood, I would bid thee
Live, and be still a king, that thou may'st learn
What man should be to man, in war remembering
The common tie and brotherhood of kind.
This royal tent, with such of thy domestics
As can be found, shall wait upon thy service;
Nor will I use my fortune to demand
Hard terms of peace, but such as thou may'st offer
With honour, I with honour may receive.

[TAMERLANE signs to an Officer, who un-
binds BAJAZET.

Baj. Ha! say'st thou-no-our prophet's vengeance blast me,

If thou shalt buy my friendship with thy empire.
Damnation on thee, thou smooth fawning talker!
Give me again my chains, that I may curse thee,
And gratify my rage: or, if thou wilt

Be a vain fool, and play with thy perdition,
Remember I'm thy foe, and hate thee deadly.
Thy folly on thy head!

Tam. Be still my foe.

Great minds, like Heaven, are pleased in doing good,

Though the ungrateful subjects of their favours
Are barren in return: thy stubborn pride,
That spurns the gentle office of humanity,
Shall in my honour own, and thy despite,
I have done as I ought. Virtue still does
With scorn the mercenary world regard,
Where abject souls do good, and hope reward:
Above the worthless trophies men can raise,
She seeks not honours, wealth, nor airy praise,
But with herself, herself the goddess pays.
[Exeunt TAMERLANE, AXALLA, Prince of
TANAIS, MIRVAN, ZAMA, and Attendants.
Baj. Come, lead me to my dungeon! plunge
me down,

Deep from the hated sight of man and day,
Where, under covert of the friendly darkness,
My soul may brood, at leisure, o'er its anguish!
Om. Our royal master would, with noble usage,
Make your misfortunes light: he bids you hope-
Baj. I tell thee, slave, I have shook hands
with hope,

And all my thoughts are rage, despair, and horror!
Ha! wherefore am I thus ?-Perdition seize me,
But my cold blood runs shivering to my heart,
As at some phantom, that, in dead of night,
With dreadful action stalks around our beds!
The rage and fiercer passions of my breast
Are lost in new confusion.-

Had she the softness of a tender bride,
Heaven could not have bestowed a greater bless-
ing,

And love had made amends for loss of empire.
But see, what fury dwells upon her charms!
What lightning flashes from her angry eyes!
With a malignant joy she views my ruin:
Even beauteous in her hatred, still she charms

me,

And awes my fierce tumultuous soul to love. Arp. And dar'st thou hope, thou tyrant ra

visher,

That Heaven has any joy in store for thee? Look back upon the sum of thy past life, Where tyranny, oppression, and injustice, Perjury, murders, swell the black account; Where lost Arpasia's wrongs stand bleeding fresh,

Thy last recorded crime. But Heaven has found thee;

At length the tardy vengeance has o'erta'en thee.

My weary soul shall bear a little longer
The pain of life, to call for justice on thee:
That once complete, sink to the peaceful grave,
And lose the memory of my wrongs and thee.
Baj. Thou rail'st! I thank thee for it-Be

Put on this form of fury? Is it strange

We should meet here, companions in misfortune,

The captives in one common chance of war? Nor shouldst thou wonder that my sword has failed

Before the fortune of victorious Tamerlane, When thou, with nations like the sanded shore, With half the warring world upon thy side, Couldst not stand up against his dreadful battle, That crushed thee with its shock. Thy men can witness,

Those cowards that forsook me in the combat, My sword was not inactive.

Baj. No, 'tis false;

Where is my daughter, thou vile Greek? Thou hast

Betrayed her to the Tartar; or, even worse, Pale with thy fear, didst lose her like a coward; And, like a coward now, would cast the blame On fortune and ill stars.

Mon. Ha! saidst thou like a coward? What sanctity, what majesty divine Hast thou put on, to guard thee from my rage, That thus thou dar'st to wrong me?

Baj. Out, thou slave, And know me for thy lord!

Mon. I tell thee, tyrant,

When in the pride of power thou sat'st on high, When like an idol thou wert vainly worshipped, By prostrate wretches, born with slavish souls; Even when thou wert a king, thou wert no more, Nor greater than Moneses; born of a race Royal, and great as thine. What art thou now, then?

The fate of war has set thee with the lowest ; And captives (like the subjects of the grave), Losing distinction, serve one common lord.

Baj. Braved by this dog! Now give a loose

to rage,

And curse thyself! curse thy false cheating prophet!

Ha! yet there's some revenge.-Hear me, thou
Christian!

Thou left'st that sister with me: Thou innpostor!
Thou boaster of thy honesty! Thou liar!
But take her to thee back.

Now to explore my prison-if it holds
Another plague like this! The restless damned
(If muftis lie not) wander thus in hell;
From scorching flames to chilling frosts they run,
Then from their frosts to fires return again,
And only prove variety of pain.

[Exeunt BAJAZET and HALY. Arp. Stay, Bajazet, I charge thee by my wrongs!

Stay and unfold a tale of so much horror
As only fits thy telling.-Oh, Moneses!

Mon. Why dost thou weep? Why this tem-
pestuous passion,

That stops thy faultering tongue short on my name?

Oh, speak! unveil this mystery of sorrow,
And draw the dismal scene at once to sight!

VOL. I

Arp. Thou art undone, lost, ruined, and undone!

Mon. I will not think 'tis so, while I have
thee;

While thus 'tis given to hold thee in my arms;
For while I sigh upon thy panting bosom,
The sad remembrance of past woes is lost.

Arp. Forbear to sooth thy soul with flattering thoughts,

Of evils overpast, and joys to come:
Our woes are like the genuine shade beneath,
Where fate cuts off the very hopes of day,
And everlasting night and horror reign.

Mon. By all the tenderness and chaste endearments

Of our past love, I charge thee, my Arpasia, To ease my soul of doubts! Give me to know, At once, the utmost malice of my fate!

Arp. Take then thy wretched share in all I suffer,

Still partner of my heart!-Scarce hadst thou

left

The sultan's camp, when the imperious tyrant,
Softening the pride and fierceness of his temper,
With gentle speech, made offer of his love.
Amazed, as at the shock of sudden death,
I started into tears, and often urged
(Though still in vain) the difference of our faiths.
At last, as flying to the utmost refuge,
With lifted hands and streaming eyes, I owned
The fraud, which, when we first were made his
prisoners,

Conscious of my unhappy form, and fearing
For thy dear life, I forc'd thee to put on;
Thy borrowed name of brother, mine of sister;
Hiding beneath that veil the nearer tie
Our mutual vows had made before the priest.
Kindling to rage at hearing of my story,
Then, be it so,' he cried: Think'st thou thy

Vows,

Given to a slave, shall bar me from thy beauties!'

Then bade the priest pronounce the marriagerites,

Which he performed; whilst, shrieking with despair,

I called, in vain, the powers of Heaven to aid me.
Mon. Villain! Imperial villain! Oh, the coward!
Awed by his guilt, though backed by force and
power,

He durst not, to my face, avow his purpose;
But, in my absence, like a lurking thief,
Stole on my treasure, and at once undid me.
Arp. Had they not kept me from the means

of death,

Thou lovely hoard of sweets, where all my joys
Were treasured up, to have thee rifled thus!
Thus torn untasted from my eager wishes!
But I will have thee from him. Tamerlane
(The sovereign judge of equity on earth)
Shall do me justice on this mighty robber,
And render back thy beauties to Moneses.
Arp. And who shall render back my peace,
my honour,

The spotless whiteness of my virgin soul?
Ah! no, Moneses-Think not I will ever
Bring a polluted love to thy chaste arms:
I am the tyrant's wife,-Oh, fatal title!
And, in the sight of all the saints, have sworn,
By honour, womanhood, and blushing shame,
To know no second bride-bed but my grave.
Mon. I swear it must not be, since still my

eve

Finds thee as heavenly white, as angel pure,
As in the earliest hours of life thou wert:
Nor art thou his, but mine; thy first vow is
mine,

Thy soul is mine.

Arp. O! think not, that the power Of most persuasive eloquence can make me Forget I have been another's, been his wife. Now, by my blushes, by the strong confusion And anguish of my heart, spare me, Moneses, Nor urge my trembling virtue to the precipice. Shortly, oh! very shortly, if my sorrows Divine aright, and Heaven be gracious to me, Death shall dissolve the fatal obligation, And give me up to peace, to that blest place, Where the good rest from care and anxious life. Mon. Oh, teach me, thou fair saint, like thee to suffer!

Teach me, with hardy piety, to combat

The present ills: instruct my eyes to pass
The narrow bounds of life, this land of sorrow,
And, with bold hopes, to view the realms beyond,
Those distant beauties of the future state.
Tell me, Arpasia-say, what joys are those
That wait to crown the wretch who suffers here?
Oh! tell me, and sustain my failing faith!

Arp. Imagine somewhat exquisitely fine, Which fancy cannot paint, which the pleased mind

Can barely know, unable to describe it;
Imagine 'tis a tract of endless joys,
Without satiety or interruption;
Imagine 'tis to meet, and part no more.
Mon. Grant, gentle Heaven, that such may
be our lot!

Let us be blest together. Oh, my soul!
Build on that hope, and let it arm thy courage,
To struggle with the storm that parts us now.

Arp. Yes, my Moneses! now the surges rist, The swelling sea breaks in between our barks, And drives us to our fate on different rocks. Farewell! My soul lives with thee.

Mon. Death is parting,

'Tis the last sad adieu 'twixt soul and body. But this is somewhat worse--my joy, my cou

fort,

All that was left in life, fleets after thee;
My aching sight hangs on thy parting beauties,
Thy lovely eyes, all drowned in floods of sorrow,
So sinks the setting sun beneath the waves,
And leaves the traveller, in pathless woods,
Benighted and forlorn-Thus, with sad eyes,
Westward he turns, to mark the light's decay,
Till, having lost the last faint glimpse of day,
Cheerless, in darkness, he pursues his way.

Exeunt MONESES and ARPASIA, severally.

SCENE I.-The Inside of the Royal Tent. Enter AXALLA, SELIMA, and Women attendants. Ar. Can there be aught in love beyond this proof,

This wondrous proof, I give thee of my faith?
To tear thee from my bleeding bosom thus!
To rend the strings of life, to set thee free,
And yield thee to a cruel father's power,
Foe to my hopes! What canst thou pay me
back,

What but thyself, thou angel! for this fondness?
Set. Thou dost upbraid me, beggar as I am,
And urge me with my poverty of love.
Perhaps thou think'st, 'tis nothing for a maid
To struggle through the niceness of her sex,
The blushes and the fears, and own she loves;
Thou think'st 'tis nothing for my artless heart
To own my weakness, and confess thy triumph.
Ar. Oh yes, I own it; my charmed ears
ne'er knew

A sound of so much rapture, so much joy.