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 for-
tune,

My laurel wreaths, and all the glorious trophies, For which the valliant 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!

I will not hear thy soothing. Is it thus That Christian lovers prove the faith they swear? Are war and slavery the soft endearments, With which they court the beauties they admire? 'Twas well my heart was cautious of believing 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:

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-

ness

The tenderest, truest, everlasting passion.
But, oh! 'tis past; and I will charge remembrance
To banish the fond image from my soul.
Since thou art sworn the foe of royal Bajazet,
I have resolved to hate thee.

Ar. Is it possible!

Hate is not in thy nature; thy whole frame
Is harmony, without one jarring atom.
Why dost thou force thy eyes to wear this cold-
ness?

It damps the springs of life. Oh! bid me die,
Much rather bid me die, if it be true
That thou hast sworn to hate me !-

Sel. Let life and death

Wait the decision of the bloody field;
Nor can thy fate, my conqueror, depend
Upon a woman's hate. Yet, since you urge
A power which once perhaps I had, there is
But one request that I can make with honour.
Ax. Oh, name it! say!

Sel. Forego your right of war,
And render me this instant to my father

Ax. Impossible!-The tumult of the battle, That hastes to join, cuts off all means of com

merce

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

Disdain to give, where freedom of the choice Does but seem wanting.

Ar. What! not one kind look? Then thou art changed indeed. [Trumpets.] Hark,

I am summoned,

And thou wilt send me forth like one unblessed, Whom fortune has forsaken, and ill fate Marke for destruction. Thy surprising coldness Hangs on my soul, and weighs my courage down:

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 fixt to the soft enchantment.
Ax. 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.

SCENE I.-TAMERLANE'S Camp. Enter MONEses.

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, say-dost 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-'twill not be,

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.

That crowns him with the spoils of such a day,
Has given it as an earnest of the world,
That shortly shall be his.

Enter STRATOCLES.

My Stratocles!

Most happily returned, might I believe
Thou bringst me any joy?

Stra. With my best diligence,
This night I have enquired of what concerns you.
Scarce was the sun, who shone upon the horror
Of the past day, sunk to the western ocean,
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,
Confessed 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 Arpasia?
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
ers),

Well may I, in behalf of heaven and earth,
Demand from thee atonement for this wrong.
Baj. Make thy demand to those that own thy
power!

Know, I am still beyond it; and though Fortune
(Curse on that changeling deity of fools!)
Has stript me of the train and pomp of greatness,
That outside of a king, yet still my soul,
Fixt high, and of itself alone dependent,
Is ever free and royal, and even now,

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.

Buj. 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-
Buj. 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.-

Arpasia!-Haly !

Enter HALY.

Ha. Oh, emperor! for whose hard fate our prophet,

And all the heroes of thy sacred race,
Are sad in paradise, thy faithful Haly,
The slave of all thy pleasures, in this ruin,
This universal shipwreck of thy fortunes,

Enter ARPASIA.

Has gathered up this treasure for thy arms: Nor even the victor, haughty Tamerlane (By whose command once more thy slave beholds thee),

Denies this blessing to thee, but, with honour, Renders thee back thy queen, thy beauteous bride.

Baj. Oh! had her eyes, with pity, seen my

sorrows,

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

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
perverse,

And muster all the woman in thy soul:
Goad me with curses, be a very wife,
That I may fling off this tame love, and hate
thee.