To execute, like you, that duty's call.
For us the relicks of abandoned war,
Forgot in France, and in Jerusalem,
Left to grow old in fetters,--Osman's father
Consigned us to the gloom of a damp dungeon,
Where, but for you, we must have groaned out
life,
And native France have blessed our eyes no
Ner. The will of gracious Heaven, that softened Osman,
Inspired me for your sakes :-But, with our joy,
Flows, mixed, a bitter sadness-I had hoped
To save from their perversion a young beauty,
Who, in her infant innocence, with me,
Was made a slave by cruel Noradin;
When, sprinkling Syria with the blood of Chris-
tians,
Cæsarea's walls saw Lusignan surprized,
And the proud crescent rise in bloody triumph.
From this seraglio having young escaped,
Fate, three years since, restored me to my chains;
Then, sent to Paris on my plighted faith,
I flattered my fond hope with vain resolves,
To guide the lovely Zara to that court
Where Lewis has established virtue's throne:
But Osman will detain her-yet, not Osman;
Zara herself forgets she is a Christian,
And loves the tyrant sultan!-Let that pass :
I mourn a disappointment still more cruel;
The prop of all our Christian hope is lost!
Chat. Dispose me at your will-I am your
Ner. Oh, Sir, great Lusignan, so long their captive,
That last of an heroic race of kings! That warrior, whose past fame has filled the world!
Osman refuses to my sighs for ever!
Chat. Nay, then, we have been all redeemed
Perish that soldier who would quit his chains,
And leave his noble chief behind in fetters.
Alas! you know him not as I have known him;
Thank Heaven, that placed your birth so far
removed
From those detested days of blood and woe:
But I, less happy, was condemned to see
Thy walls, Jerusalem, beat down—and all
Our pious fathers' labours lost in ruins!
Heaven! had you seen the very temple rifled!
The sacred sepulchre itself profaned!
Fathers with children mingled, flame together!
And our last king, oppressed with age and arms,
Murdered, and bleeding. o'er his murdered sons!
Then Lusignan, sole remnant of his race,
Rallying our fated few amidst the flames,
Fearless, beneath the crush of falling towers,
The conquerors and the conquered, groans and
death!
Dreadful-and, waving in his hand his sword,
Red with the blood of infidels cried out,
This way, ye faithful Christians! follow me.-
Ner. How full of glory was that brave retreat!
Chat. Twas Heaven, no doubt, that saved
and led him on;
Pointed his path, and marched our guardian guide:
We reached Cæsarea-there the general voice
Chose Lusignan, thenceforth to give us laws;
Alas! 'twas vain-Cæsarea could not stand
When Sion's self was fallen!-we were betrayed;
And Lusignan condemned to length of life,
In chains, in damps, and darkness and despair:
Yet great, amidst his miseries, he looked,
As if he could not feel his fate himself,
But as it reached his followers. And shall we,
For whom our generous leader suffered this,
Be vilely safe, and dare be blessed without him?
Ner. Oh! I should hate the liberty he shared
I knew too well the miseries you describe,
For I was born amidst them. Chains and death,
Caesarea lost, and Saracens triumphant,
Were the first objects which my eyes e'er looked on.
Hurried, an infant, among other infants,
Snatched from the bosom of their bleeding mo❤
A temple saved us, till the slaughter ceased;
Then were we sent to this ill-fated city,
Here, in the palace of our former kings,
To learn, from Saracens, their hated faith,
And be completely wretched.- -Zara, too,
Shared this captivity; we both grew up
So near each other, that a tender friendship
Endeared her to my wishes: My fond heart— -
Pardon its weakness, bleeds to see her lost,
And, for a barbarous tyrant, quit her God!
Chat. Such is the Saracens' too fatal policy!
Watchful seducers, still, of infant weakness:
Happy that you, so young, escaped their hands!
But let us think- -May not this Zara's interest,
Loving the sultan, and by him beloved,
For Lusignan procure some softer sentence?
The wise and just, with innocence, may draw
Their own advantage from the guilt of others.
Ner. How shall I gain admission to her presence? Osman has banished me--but that's a trifle; Will the seraglio's portals open to me? Or, could I find that easy to my hopes, What prospect of success from an apostate, On whom I cannot look without disdain, And who will read her shame upon my brow? The hardest trial of a generous mind, Is, to court favours from a hand it scorns. Chat. Think it is Lusignan we seek to serve. Ner. Well-it shall be attempted—Hark! who is this?
Are my eyes false; or, is it really she?
Zar. Start not, my worthy friend! I come to seek you;
The sultan has permitted it; fear nothing:
But to confirm my heart, which trembles near you,
Soften that angry air, nor look reproach;
Why should we fear each other, both mistaking?
Associates from our birth, one prison held us,
One friendship taught affliction to be calm,
'Till Heaven thought fit to favour your escape,
And call you to the fields of happier France;
Thence, once again, it was my lot to find you
A prisoner here; where, hid amongst a crowd
Of undistinguished slaves, with less restraint,
I shared your frequent converse ;-
It pleased your pity, shall I say your friendship?
Or rather, shall I call it generous charity?
To form that noble purpose, to redeem
Distressful Zara-you procured my ransom,
And, with a greatness that out-soared a crown,
Returned yourself a slave, to give me freedom;
But Heaven has cast our fate for different climes:
Here, in Jerusalem, I fix for ever;
And every Christian's grief takes end with yours.
Lus. O light! O, dearer far than light, that
voice!
Chatillon, is it you? my fellow-martyr?
And shall our wretchedness, indeed, have end?
In what place are we now!-my feeble eyes,
Disused to day-light, long in vain to find you.
Chat. This was the palace of your royal fa-
thers:
'Tis now the son of Noradin's seraglio.
Zar. The master of this place the mighty
Osman,
Distinguishes, and loves to cherish virtue.
This generous Frenchman, yet a stranger to you,
Drawn from his native soil, from peace and rest,
Brought the vowed ransoms of ten Christian
slaves,
Himself contented to remain a captive :
But Osman, charmed by greatness, like his own,
To equal what he loved, has given him you.
Yet, among all the shine that marks my fortune,
I shall, with frequent tears, remember yours;
Your goodness will for ever soothe my heart,
And keep your image still a dweller there:
Warmed by your great example to protect
That faith, which lifts humanity so high,
I'll be a mother to distressful Christians.
Ner. How!-You protect the Christians! you, Should pass such distant
Lus. So generous France inspires her social
sons!
They have been ever dear and useful to me—
Would I were nearer to him-Noble sir,
Abjure their saving faith, and coldly see
Great Lusignan, their chief, die slow in chains!
Zur. To bring him freedom you behold me
here;
seas, to bring me bles
And hazard your own safety for my sake?
Ner. My name, sir, is Nerestan; born in Syria,
I wore the chains of slavery from my birth;
Till, quitting the proud crescent for the court
Where warlike Lewis reigns, beneath his eye
I learnt the trade of arms: the rank I held
Za-Was but the kind distinction which he gave me,
To tempt my courage to deserve regard.
You will this moment meet his eyes in joy.
Chat. Shall I then live to bless that happy hour?
Ner. Can Christians owe so dear a gift to
Zar. Hopeless I gathered courage to intreat
The sultan for his liberty-amazed,
So soon to gain the happiness I wished!
See where they bring the good old chief, grown
With age, by pain and sorrows hastened on!
Chat. How is my heart dissolved with sudden
joy!
Zar. I long to view his venerable face;
But tears, I know not why, eclipse my sight.
I feel, methinks, redoubled pity for him;
But, I, alas! myself have been a slave;
And when we pity woes which we have felt,
'Tis but a partial virtue!
Ner. Amazement !--Whence this greatness in
an infidel!
Enter LUSIGNAN led in by two Guards.
Lus. Where am I? From the dungeon's depth
what voice
Has called me to revisit long-lost day?
Am I with Christians?—I am weak-forgive me,
And guide my trembling steps. I'm full of years;
My miseries have worn me more than age.
Am I, in truth, at liberty? [Seating himself.
Your sight, unhappy prince, would charm his eye;
That best and greatest monarch will behold,
| With grief and joy, those venerable wounds,
And print embraces where your fetters bound
you.
All Paris will revere the cross's martyr;
Paris, the refuge still of ruined kings!
Lus. Alas! in times long past, I have seen its
glory:
When Philip the Victorious lived, I fought
A-breast with Montmorency and Melun,
D'Estaing, De Neile, and the far-famous Courcy;
Names which were then the praise and dread of
war!
But what have I to do at Paris now?
I stand upon the brink of the cold grave;
That way my journey lies-to find, I hope,
The King of Kings, and ask the recompence
For all my woes, long suffered for his sake-
You generous witnesses of my last hour,
While I yet live, assist my humble prayers,
And join the resignation of my soul.
Nerestan! Chatillon! and you, fair mourner
Whose tears do honour to an old man's sorrows!
Lus. Providence and Heaven!
Oh, failing eyes, deceive ye not my hope?
Can this be possible?—Yes, yes-'tis she!
This little cross-I know it, by sure marks!
Oh! take me, Heaven! while I can die with
joy
Zar. Oh, do not, sir, distract me!-rising
thoughts,
And hopes, and fears, o'erwhelm me!
Lus. Tell me, yet,
Has it remained for ever in your hands?
What- -both brought captives from Cæsarea
hither!
Oh, Heaven! have I then found a father?
Lus. Their voice! their looks!
The living images of their dear mother!
Do not forsake me at this dawn of hope-
Strengthen my heart, too feeble for this joy.
Madam! Nerestan! Help me, Chatillon!
Oh, 'twas a dreadful scene! these eyes beheld it. O God! who see'st my tears, and knowest my
Husband and father, helpless I beheld it-
Denied the mournful privilege to die!
Oh, my poor children! whom I now deplore;
If ye are saints in Heaven, as sure ye are,
Look with an eye of pity on that brother,
That sister whom you left! If I have yet
Or son or daughter: for in early chains,
Far from their lost and unassisting father,
I heard that they were sent, with numbers more,
To this seraglio; hence to be dispersed
In nameless remnants o'er the East, and spread
Our Christian miseries round a faithless world.
Chat. 'Twas true-For in the horrors of that
day,
I snatched your infant daughter from her cradle;
But, finding every hope of flight was vain,
Scarce had I sprinkled, from a public fountain,
Those sacred drops which wash the soul from sin,
When from my bleeding arms, fierce Saracens
Forced the lost innocent, who smiling lay,
And pointed, playful, at the swarthy spoilers!
With her, your youngest, then your only son,
Whose little life had reached the fourth sad year,
And just given sense to feel his own misfortunes,
Was ordered to this city.
Nerestan, hast thou on thy breast a scar,
Which, ere Cæsarea fell, from a fierce hand,
Surprising us by night, my child received?
Ner. Blessed hand!-I bear it--sir, the mark
is there!
Lus. Merciful Heaven!
Ner. [Kneeling.] Oh, sir!-Oh, Zara, kneel.—
Zar. [Kneeling. My father!-Oh !-
Lus. Oh, my lost children!
Lus. They shall not tear you from my arms-
my children!
Again, I find you-dear in wretchedness:
Oh, my brave son-and thou, my nameless daugh-
ter!
Now dissipate all doubt, remove all dread;
Has Heaven, that gives me back my children--
given them,
Such as I lost thein?-Come they Christians to
me?
One weeps, and one declines a conscious eve!
Your silence speaks-too well I understand it.
Zar. I cannot, sir, deceive you-Osman's laws
Were mine and Osman is not a Christian.-
Lus. Her words are thunder bursting on my
Wert not for thee, my son, I now should die!
Full sixty years I fought the Christian cause,
Saw their doomed temple fall, their power de-
stroyed:
Twenty, a captive, in a dungeon's depth,
reser-Yet never for myself my tears sought Heaven;
All for my children rose my fruitless prayers:
Yet what avails a father's wretched joy?
I have a daughter gained, and Heaven an enemy. Oh! my misguided daughter-lose not thy faith, Reclaim thy birthright-think upon the blood Of twenty Christian kings, that fills thy veins; 'Tis heroes' blood-the blood of saints and martyrs!
What would thy mother feel, to see thee thus! She, and thy murdered brothers!-think, they call thee;
Think that thou seest them stretch their bloody arms,
And weep to win thee from their murderer's bo
Even in the place where thou betrayest thy God, He died, my child, to save thee.-Turn thy eyes, And see; for thou art near his sacred sepulchre; Thou canst not move a step, but where he trod! Thou tremblest-Oh! admit me to thy soul; Kill not thy aged, thy afflicted father;
Take not thus soon, again, the life thou gavest him:
Shame not thy mother-nor renounce thy God.
'Tis past-Repentance dawns in thy sweet eyes;
I see bright truth descending to thy heart,
And now, my long-lost child is found for ever!
Ner. Oh, doubly blest! a sister, and a soul,
To be redeemed together!
Dear author of my life! inform me, teach me,
Oras. But, sirshould Lewis
Osm. Tell Lewis, and the world-it shall be
Osm. ORASMIN, this alarm was false and Zara proposed it, and my heart approves :
Lewis no longer turns his arms on me;
The French, grown weary by a length of woes,
Wish not at once to quit their fruitful plains,
And famish on Arabia's desart sands.
Their ships, 'tis true, have spread the Syrian seas;
And Lewis, hovering o'er the coast of Cyprus,
Alarms the fears of Asia-But I've learnt,
That, steering wide from our unmenaced ports,
He points his thunder at the Egyptian shore.
There let him war, and waste my enemies;
Their mutual conflict will but fix my throne.
Release those Christians-I restore their free-
doin;
Twill please their master, nor can weaken me;
Transport them at my cost, to find their king;
I wish to have him know me: carry thither
This Lusignan, whom, tell him, I restore,
Because I cannot fear his fame in arms;
But love him for his virtue and his blood.
Tell him, my father, having conquered twice,
Condemned him to perpetual chains; but I
Have set him free, that I might triumph more.
Oras. The Christians gain an army in his name.
Osm. I cannot fear a sound.-
Thy statesman's reason is too dull for love!
Why wilt thou force me to confess it all?
Though I to Lewis send back Lusignan,
I give him but to Zara-I have grieved her;
And owed her the atonement of this joy.
Thy false advices, which but now misled
My anger, to confine those helpless Christians,
Gave her a pain; I feel for her and me:
But I talk on, and waste the smiling moments.
For one long hour I yet defer my nuptials;
But, 'tis not lost, that hour! 'twill be all hers!
She would employ it in a conference
With that Nerestan, whom thou know'st—that
Christian.
Oras. And have you, sir, indulged that strange desire?
Osm. What meanest thou? They were infant
Friends should part kind, who are to meet no
When Zara asks, I will refuse her nothing:
Restraint was never made for those we love.
Down with those rigours of the proud seraglio;
I hate its laws-where blind austerity
Sinks virtue to necessity.-My blood
Disclaims your Asian jealousy;-I hold
The fierce, free plainness of my Scythian ancestors,
Their open confidence, their honest hate,
Their love unfearing, and their anger bold.
Go-the good Christian waits-conduct him to For me-I am a soldier, uninstructed,
Ner. To hate the happiness of Osman's throne, And love that God, who, through his maze of woes,
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Thank Heaven, it is not, then, unlawful
To see you, yet once more, my lovely sister!
Not all so happy!--We, who met but now,
Shall never meet again-for Lusignan-
We shall be orphans still, and want a father.
Zar. Forbid it Heaven!
Ner. His last sad hour's at hand-
That flow of joy, which followed our discovery,
Too strong and sudden for his age's weakness,
Wasting his spirits, dried the source of life,
And nature yields him up to time's demand.
Shall he not die in peace?-Oh! let no doubt
Disturb his parting moments with distrust;
Let me, when I return to close his eyes,
Compose his mind's impatience too, and tell him,
You are confirmed a Christian!
Zar. Oh! may his soul enjoy, in earth and
heaven,
Eternal rest! nor let one thought, one sigh,
One bold complaint of mine, recall his cares!
But you have injured me, who still can doubt.
What! am I not your sister? and shall you
Refuse me credit? You suppose me light;
You, who should judge my honour by your own,
Shall you distrust a truth I dared avow,
And stamp apostate on a sister's heart!
Ner. Ah! do not misconceive me !—if I erred,
Affection, not distrust, misled my fear;
Your will may be a Christian, yet not you;
There is a sacred mark-a sign of faith,
A pledge of promise, that must firm your claim,
Wash you from guilt, and open Heaven before
Swear, swear by all the woes we all have borne,
By all the martyred saints, who call you daughter,
That you consent, this day, to seal our faith,
By that mysterious rite which waits your call.
Zar. I swear by Heaven, and all its holy host,
Its saints, its martyrs, its attesting angels,
And the dread presence of its living author,
To have no faith but yours;-to die a Christian!
Now, tell me what this mystic faith requires.
VOL. I.
Has brought us all, unhoping, thus together.
Nor daring to instruct, though strong in faith:
But I will bring the ambassador of Heaven,
To clear your views, and lift you to your God!
Be it your task to gain admission for him.
But where? for whom?-Oh! thou immortal
Power!
Whence can we hope it, in this cursed seraglio?
Who is this slave of Osman? Yes, this slave!
Does she not boast the blood of twenty kings?
Is not her race the same with that of Lewis?
Is she not Lusignan's unhappy daughter?
A Christian, and my sister?-yet a slave!
A willing slave !—I dare not speak more plainly,
Zar. Cruel! go on-Alas! you do not know
me!
At once, a stranger to my secret fate,
My pains, my fears, my wishes, and my power;
I am I will be Christian-will receive
This holy priest, with his mysterious blessing;
I will not do, nor suffer, aught unworthy
Myself, my father, or my father's race.
But, tell me -nor be tender on this point-
What punishment your Christian laws decree
For an unhappy wretch, who, to herself
Unknown, and all abandoned by the world,
Lost and enslaved, has, in her sovereign master,
Found a protector, generous as great,
Has touched his heart, and given him all her own?
Ner. The punishment of such a slave should be Death in this world-and pain in that to come. Zar. I am that slave-strike here-and save
Ner. Destruction to my hopes! Can it be you? Zar. It is-Adored by Osman, I adore him: This hour the nuptial rites will make us one.
Ner. What! marry Osman!-Let the world grow dark,
That the extinguished sun may hide thy shame! Could it be thus, it were no crime to kill thee! Zar. Strike, strike-I love him-yes, by Hea
Ner. Death is thy due-but not thy due from
Yet, were the honour of our house no bar-
My father's fame, and the too gentle laws
Of that religion which thou hast disgraced-
Did not the God thou quittest hold back my
Not there--I could not there-but, by my soul, I would rush, desperate, to the sultan's breast, And plunge my sword in his proud heart, who damns thee!
Oh! shame! shame! shame! at such a time as this!
When Lewis! that awakener of the world, Beneath the lifted cross makes Egypt pale, 3 L
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