Beyond what we expected, fair and noble;
'Twas then the storm of your victorious arms
Looked black, and seemed to threaten, when he
prest me

(By oft repeating instances) to draw
My sword for him: But when he found my soul
Disdained his purpose, he more fiercely told me,
That my Arpasia, my loved sister's fate,
Depended on my courage shewn for him.
I had long learnt to hold myself at nothing;
But for her sake, to ward the blow from her,
I bound my service to the man I hated.
Six days are past, since, by the sultan's order,
I left the pledge of my return behind,
And went to guard this princess to his camp:
The rest the brave Axalla's fortune tells you.
Tam. Wisely the tyrant strove to prop his

cause,

By leaguing with thy virtue; but just Heaven Has torn thee from his side, and left him naked To the avenging bolt, that drives upon him. Forget the name of captive, and I wish

I could as well restore that fair one's freedom, Whose loss hangs heavy on thee: yet ere night, Perhaps, we may deserve thy friendship nobler; The approaching storm may cast the shipwrecked wealth

Back to thy arms: till that be past, since war (Though in the justest cause) is ever doubtful, I will not ask thy sword to aid my victory, Lest it should hurt that hostage of thy valour, Our cominon foe detains.

Allow me, from the experience of a lover,
To say, one person, whom your story mentioned,
(If he survive) is far beyond you wretched :
You named the bridegroom of your beauteous
sister.

Mon. I did. Oh, most accurst!
Ar. Think what he feels,

Dashed in the fierceness of his expectation:
Then, when the approaching minute of possession
Had wound imagination to the height-
Think, if he lives!

Mon. He lives! he does: 'tis true
He lives! But how? To be a dog, and dead,
Were Paradise to such a state as his :
He holds down life, as children do a potion,
With strong reluctance and convulsive strug-
glings,

Whilst his misfortunes press him to disgorge it. VOL. I.

Tam. Spare the remembrance; 'tis an useless grief,

And adds to the misfortune by repeating.
The revolution of a day may bring

Such turns, as Heaven itself could scarce have promised,

Far, far beyond thy wish: let that hope cheer thee.

Haste, my Axalla, to dispose with safety
Thy beauteous charge, and on the foe revenge
The pain which absence gives; thy other care,
Honour and arms, now summon thy attendance.
Now do thy office well, my soul! Remember
Thy cause, the cause of Heaven and injured
earth.

O thou Supreme! if thy great spirit warms
My glowing breast, and fires my soul to arms,
Grant that my sword, assisted by thy power,
This day may peace and happiness restore,
That war and lawless rage may vex the world no

more.

[Exeunt Tamerlane, Moneses, Stratocles,

Prince of Tanais, Zama, Mirvan, and
Attendants.

Ar. The battle calls, and bids me haste to leave thee;

Oh, Selima!-but let destruction wait. Are there not hours enough for blood and slaughter?

This moment shall be love's, and I will waste it In soft complainings, for thy sighs and coldness, For thy forgetful coldness; even at Birza,

When in thy father's court my eyes first owned thee,

Fairer than light, the joy of their beholding,
Even then thou wert not thus.

Sel. Art not thou changed,

Christian Axalla? Art thou still the same?
Those were the gentle hours of peace, and thou
The world's good angel, that didst kindly join
Its mighty masters in harmonious friendship:
But since those joys that once were ours are lost,
Forbear to mention them, and talk of war;
Talk of thy conquests and my chains, Axalla.

Ar. Yet I will listen, fair, unkind upbraider! Yet I will listen to thy charming accents, Although they make me curse my fame and fortune,

My laurel wreaths, and all the glorious trophies, For which the valiant bleed-Oh, thou unjust one!

Dost thou then envy me this small return'
My niggard fate has made, for all the mournings,
For all the pains, for all the sleepless nights,
That cruel absence brings?

Sel. Away, deceiver!

Is it thus

I will not hear thy soothing.
That Christian lovers prove the faith they swear?
Are war and slavery the soft endearments,
With which they court the beauties they ad-
mire?

'Twas well my heart was cautious of believing I i

Thy vows, and thy protesting. Know, my conqueror,

Thy sword has vanquished but the half of Selima; Her soul disdains thy victory.

Ar. Hear, sweet heaven!

Hear the fair tyrant, how she wrests love's laws,
As she had vowed my ruin! What is conquest?
What joy have I from that, but to behold thee,
To kneel before thee, and, with lifted eyes,
To view thee, as devotion does a saint,
With awful, trembling pleasure; then to swear
Thou art the queen and mistress of my soul?
Has not even Tamerlane (whose word, next
Heaven's,

Makes fate at second-hand) bid thee disclaim
Thy fears? And dost thou call thyself a slave,
Only to try how far the sad impression
Can sink into Axalla?

Sel. Oh, Axalla!

Ought I to hear you?

Ar. Come back, ye hours,

And tell my Selima what she has done!
Bring back the time, when to her father's court
I came, ambassador of peace from Tamerlane;
When, hid by conscious darkness and disguise,
I past the dangers of the watchful guards,
Bold as the youth who nightly swam the Helles-
pont:

Then, then she was not sworn the foe of love;
When, as my soul confest its flame, and sued
In moving sounds for pity, she frowned rarely,
But, blushing, heard me tell the gentle tale;"
Nay, even confest, and told me, softly sighing,
She thought there was no guilt in love like mine.
Sel. Young, and unskilful in the world's false
arts,

I suffered love to steal upon my softness,
And warm me with a lambent guiltless flame:
Yes, I have heard thee swear a thousand times,
And call the conscious powers of heaven to wit-

Betwixt the armies.

Sel. Swear then to perform it,

Which way soe'er the chance of war determines, On my first instance.

Ar. By the sacred majesty

Of heaven, to whom we kneel, I will obey thee!
Yes, I will give thee this severest proof
Of my soul's vowed devotion; I will part with
thee,

(Thou cruel, to command it!) I will part with thee,

As wretches, that are doubtful of hereafter,
Part with their lives, unwilling, loth, and fearful,
And trembling at futurity. But is there nothing,
No small return that honour can afford,
For all this waste of love?

Sel. The gifts of captives

Wear somewhat of constraint; and generous

minds

Sel. What! and no more! A sigh heaves in my breast,

And stops the struggling accents on my tongue, Else, sure, I should have added something more, And made our parting softer.

Ar. Give it way.

The niggard honour, that affords not love,
Forbids not pity-

Sel. Fate perhaps has set

This day, the period of thy life and conquests;
And I shall see thee, borne at evening back,
A breathless corse. -Oh! can I think on that,
And hide my sorrows?-No-they will have way,
And all the vital air, that life draws in,
Is rendered back in sighs.

Ar. The murmuring gale revives the drooping flame,

That at thy coldness languished in my breast: So breathe the gentle zephyrs on the spring, And waken every plant, and odorous flower, Which winter frost had blasted, to new life.

Sel. To see thee for this moment, and no

more

Oh! help me to resolve against this tenderness, That charms my fierce resentments, and presents thee,

Not as thou art, mine and my father's foe,

But as thou wert, when first thy moving accents
Won me to hear; when, as I listened to thee,
The happy hours past by us unperceived,
So was my soul fixed to the soft enchantment.

Ar. Let me be still the same! I am, I must be.
If it were possible my heart could stray,
One look from thee would call it back again,
And fix the wanderer for ever thine.

Sel. Where is my boasted resolution now? [Sinking into his arms. Oh, yes! thou art the same; my heart joins with thee,

And, to betray me, will believe thee still:
It dances to the sounds that moved it first,
And owns at once the weakness of my soul.
So, when some skilful artist strikes the strings,
The magic numbers rouse our sleeping passions,
And force us to confess our grief and pleasure.
Alas! Axalla, saydost thou not pity
My artless innocence, and easy fondness?
Oh! turn thee from me, or I die with blushing.

Ar. No, let me rather gaze, for ever gaze,
And bless the new-born glories that adorn thee!
From every blush, that kindles in thy cheeks,
Ten thousand little loves and graces spring,
To revel in the roses-it will not be,

[Trumpets. This envious trumpet calls, and tears me from thee-.

Sel. My fears increase, and doubly press me

now:

I charge thee, if thy sword comes cross my father,

Stop for a moment, and remember me.

Ar. Oh, doubt not but his life shall be my care; Even dearer than my own

Sel. Guard that for me too.

Ar. O, Selima! thou hast restored my quiet. The noble ardour of the war, with love Returning, brightly burns within my breast, And bids me be secure of all hereafter. So cheers some pious saint a dying sinner (Who trembled at the thought of pains to come) With Heaven's forgiveness, and the hopes of

mercy:

At length, the tumult of his soul appeased,
And every doubt and anxious scruple eased,
Boldly he proves the dark, uncertain road;
The peace, his holy comforter bestowed,
Guides, and protects him like a guardian god.
[Exit.
Sel. In vain all arts a love-sick virgin tries,
Affects to frown, and seem severely wise,
In hopes to cheat the wary lover's eyes.
If the dear youth her pity strives to move,
And pleads with tenderness, the cause of love,
Nature asserts her empire in her heart,
And kindly takes the faithful lover's part.
By love herself, and nature, thus betrayed,
No more she trusts in pride's fantastic aid,
But bids her eyes confess the yielding maid.
[Exit Selima, Guards following.

SCENE I.-Tamerlane's Camp.

Enter MONESES.

When, by permission from the prince Axalla,
I mixt among the tumult of the warriors
Returning from the battle: here, a troop
Of hardy Parthians, red with honest wounds,
Confest 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.

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

Nature starts back; and though she fixed her stamp

On thy rough mass, and marked thee for man, Now, conscious of her error, she disclaims thee, As formed for her destruction.

'Tis true, I am a king, as thou hast been:
Honour and glory, too, have been my aim;
But, though I dare face death, and all the dan-
gers

Which furious war wears in its bloody front,
Yet would I chuse to fix my name by peace,
By justice, and by mercy, and to raise
My trophies on the blessings of mankind;
Nor would I buy the empire of the world
With ruin of the people whom I sway,
Or forfeit of my honour.

Baj. Prophet, I thank thee.—————
Damnation!-Couldst thou rob me of my glory,
To dress up this tame king, this preaching der-
vise?

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,

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 Í
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 on 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, When, through the tumult of the war, I sought thee,

Fenced in with nations.

Baj. Curse upon the stars,

That fated us to different scenes of slaughter! Oh! could my sword have met thee!

Tam. Thou hadst then,

As now, been in my power, and held thy life