Support our virtue! kindle in our souls

A ray of your divine enthusiasm;

Such as inflames the patriot's breast, and lifts
The impassioned mind to that sublime of virtue,
That even on the rack it feels the good,
Which, in a single hour, it works for millions,
And leaves the legacy to after times!
[Exit, leading off Mandane.

down the stage.

That sorrows o'er his country-ha! 'tis Zamti!

ZAMTI comes out of a tomb.

Zamti. Who's he, that seeks these mansions of the dead?

Morat. The friend of Zamti and of China.
Zamti. Morat !

Come to my arms, thou good, thou best of men;
I have been weeping o'er the sacred reliques
Of a dear murdered king-Where are our friends?
Hast seen Orasming?

Morat. Through these vaults of death
Lonely he wanders, plunged in deep despair.
Zamti. Hast thou not told him? hast thou
nought revealed
Touching Zaphimri?

Morat. There will I wait thy will

Zamti. Oh! thou art ever faithful! on thy lips Sits pensive Silence, with her hallowed finger, Guarding the pure recesses of thy mind. But, lo! they come.

Enter ORASMING, ZIMVENTI, and others. Zamti. Droop ye, my gallant friends?

Oras. Oh! Zamti, all is lost! Our dreams of liberty

Are vanished into air, Nought now avails
Integrity of life. E'en Heaven, combined
With lawless might, abandons us and virtue.
Zamti. Can your great souls thus shrink with-
in ye? thus

Oras. Oh! could you give us back Zaphimri !

then

Refulgent from a blow, that frees us allFrom the usurper's fate! the first of men, Deliverer of his country!

Oras. Mighty gods! Can this be possible?

Zamti. It is most true.

I'll bring him to ye straight-(calling to Etan, within the tomb) What ho! come forthYou seem transfixed with wonder! oh! my friends,

Watch all the motions of your rising spirit,
Direct your ardour, when anon you hear
What fate, long pregnant with the vast event,
Is labouring into birth.

ETAN comes out of the tomb.

Etan. Each step I move

A deeper horror sits on all the tombs;
Each shrine, each altar seems to shake, as if
Conscious of some important crisis.

Zamti. Yes!

A crisis, great indeed, is now at hand!
Heaven holds it's golden balance forth, and

weighs

Zaphimri's and the Tartar's destiny,
While hovering angels tremble round the beam.
Hast thou beheld that picture?

Etan. Fixed attention

Hath paused on every part; yet still to me
It shadows forth the forms of things unknown;
All imagery obscure, and wrapt in darkness.
Zamti. That darkness my informing breath
shall clear,

As morn dispels the night. Lo! here displayed
This mighty kingdom's fall,-

Etan. Alas! my father,

At sight of these sad colourings of woe,
Our tears will mix with honest indignation.

Zamti. Nay, but survey it closer--see that child,

That royal infant, the last sacred relic

Of China's ancient line--see where a mandarin
Conveys the babe to his wife's fostering breast,
There to be nourished in an humble state;
While their own son is sent to climes remote,
That, should the dire usurper e'er suspect
The prince alive, he, in his stead, might bleed,
And mock the murderer's rage.

Etan. Amazement thrills

Thou art the king, whom, as my humble son,
I've nurtured in humanity and virtue.
Thy foes could never think to find thee here,
Even in the lion's den; and therefore here
I've fixed thy safe asylum, while my son
Hath dragged his life in exile.-Oh! my friends,
Morat will tell ye all-each circumstance.
Meantime there is your king!

[All kneel to him. Oras. Long live the father of the eastern Zim. S world!

Zamti. Sole governor of earth!

Zaph. All-ruling powers!

Is then a great revenge for all the wrongs
Of bleeding China-are the fame and fate
Of all posterity included here
Within my bosom?

[They all rise.
Zamti. Yes; they are:-the shades
Of your great ancestors now rise before thee,
Heroes and demi-gods-Aloud they call
For the fell Tartar's blood.

Zaph. Oh, Zamti! all,

wonder,

Feels every power suspended!

Zamti. Rather say,

That strong imagination burns within thee

Dost thou not feel a more than common ardour? Etan. By Heaven! my soul dilates with some new impulse;

Some strange inspired emotion-Would the hour
Of fate were come !--this night my dagger's hilt
I'll bury in the tyrant's heart.
Zamti. Wilt thou?

Zamti. And when thou dost-then tell him 'tis the prince

That strikes!

Etan. The prince's wrongs shall nerve my arm With tenfold rage.

Zamti. Nay, but the prince himself!
Etan. What says my father?
Zamti. Thou art China's orphan;

The last of all our kings-no longer Etan,
But now Zaphimri !

Zuph. Ha!

Oras. O wondrous hand

Of Heaven!

ye here,

But, favoured as he is, his post requires him
About the Tartar's person. The assault begun,
He'll turn his arms upon the astonished foe,
And add new horrors to the wild commotion.
Zaph. Now, bloody spoiler! now thy hour
draws nigh,

And, ere the dawn, thy guilty reign shall end. Zamti. How my heart burns within me !-Oh! my friends,

Call now to mind the scene of desolation,
Which Timurkan, in one accursed hour,
Heaped on this groaning land!-Even now I see
The savage bands, o'er reeking hills of dead,
Forcing their rapid way.—I see them urge,
With rage unhallowed, to this sacred temple,
Where good Osmintgi, with his queen and chil-
dren,

Fatigued the gods averse. See where Arphisa,
Rending the air with agonizing shrieks,
Tears her dishevelled hair :-then, with a look
Fixed on her babes, grief choaks its passage up,
And all the feelings of a mother's breast
Throbbing in one mixed pang, breathless she faints
Within her husband's arms. Adown his cheek,
In copious streams, fast flowed the manly sorrow;

Fast to the earth, and rivet here my hands,
In all the fury of the last despair!

He is my child! -my dear, dear son!
Octar. How, woman!

Said'st thou your son?

Man. Yes, Octar, mine;-my son,

My boy-my Hamet! [she rises, and embraces [him] Let my eager love

Fly all unbounded to him-oh! my child my child!

Octar. Suspend the stroke, ye ministers of death,

Till Timurkan hear of this new event.
Meantime, thou, Mirvan, speed in quest of
Zamti,

And let him answer here this wondrous tale.

[Erit.

Man. Why did'st thou dare return ?—ah! rather

Did'st thou so long defer, with every grace,
And every growing virtue, thus to raise
Your mother's dear delight to rapture?
Hamet. Lost

In the deep mists of darkling ignorance,

To me my birth's unknown-but sure that look,
Those tears, those shrieks, that animated grief,
Defying danger, all declare the effect

Of Nature's strugglings in a parent's heart.
Then let me pay my filial duty here,
Kneel to her native dignity, and pour
In tears of joy the transport of a son
Man. Thou art, thou art my son !—thy father's
face,

!

His ev'ry feature, blooming in his boy!
Oh! tell me, tell me all-how hast thou lived
With faithful Morat !-how did he support
In dreary solitude thy tender years?—
How train thy growing mind?-oh! quickly tell

Leave that rash youth a headless trunk before

me.

Man. Now, by the ever-burning lamps that
light

Our holy shrines, by great Confucius' altar,
By the prime source of life, and light, and being
That is my child, the blossom of my joys!
Send for his cruel father-he-'tis he
Intends a fraud-he, for a stranger's life,
Would yield his offspring to the cruel axe,
An I rend a wretched mother's brain with mad-
ness!

Enter ZAMTI.

Zamti. Sure the sad accents of Mandane's voice

Struck on my frighted sense!

Timur. Once more, thou slave! Who is that stubborn youth?

Zamti. Alas! what needs This iteration of my griefs?

Man. Oh! horror!-horror!

Thou marble-hearted father!-'tis your child, And wouldst thou see him bleed?

Zamti. On him!-on him

Let fall your rage, and ease my soul at once
Of all it's fears!

Man. Oh! my devoted child !–
Hamet. Support her, Heaven!

tender frame!

[She faints support her

Perhaps you still may save this darling son.
Man. Ah! quickly name the means!
Timur. Give up your king,

Your phantom of a king, to sate my vengeance. Hamet. Oh! my much honoured mother, ne ver hear

The base, the dire proposal! let me rather Exhaust my life-blood at each gushing vein. Mandane, then-then you may well rejoice To find your child-then you may truly know The best delight a mother's heart can prove, When her son dies with glory.

Timur. Curses blast

The stripling's pride! [Talks apart with Octer.
Zamti. Ye venerable host,

Ye mighty shades of China's royal line,
Forgive the joy that mingles with my tears,

gence

Lends us a youth like him.

Oh! I can hold no more-let me enfold
That lovely ardour in his father's arms-
My brave-my generous boy!
Timur. Dost thou at length

Confess it, traitor?

Zamti. Yes, I boast it, tyrant;

[Embraces him.

Boast it to thee-to earth and heaven I boast, This-this is Zamti's son !

Hamet. At length the hour, The glorious hour is come, by Morat promised, When Hamet shall not blush to know his father. [Kneels to him. Zamti. Oh! thou intrepid youth! what bright reward

Can your glad sire bestow on such desert?
The righteous gods, and your own inward feel-
ings

Shall give the sweetest retribution. Now,
Mandane, now my soul forgives thee all,
Since I have made acquaintance with my son :
Thy lovely weakness I can now excuse;
But oh! I charge thee by a husband's right-

Timur. A husband's right! a traitor has no right

Society disclaims him-Woman, hear-
Mark well my words-Discolour not thy soul
With the black hue of crimes like his-renounce
All hymencal vows, and take again
Your much-loved boy to his fond mother's arms,
While justice whirls that traitor to his fate.

Man. Thou vile adviser!--what, betray my
lord,

My honoured husband? Turn a Scythian wife?
Forget the many years of fond delight,

In which my soul ne'er knew decreasing love,
Charmed with his noble, all-accomplished mind?
No, tyrant, no! with him I will rather die;
With him in ruin more supremely blest,
Than guilt triumphant on its throne.
Zamti. Now then,

Lo! here, the father, mother, and the son! Try all your tortures on us-here we stand, Resolved to leave a tract of bright renown To mark our beings-all resolved to die The votaries of honour!

Their smoaking ramparts-o'er his verdant plains
And peaceful vales I will drive my warlike car,
And deluge all the east with blood. [Exit.
Octar. Mirvan, do thou bear hence those mis-
creant slaves;
Thou, Zamti, art my charge.

[Laying hold of him. Zamti. Willing I come- [Shakes him off. The steady mind can scorn your mansions drear, And brighten horror with its noon-tide ray. Mandane, summon all thy strength. My son, Thy father doubts not of thy fortitude.

[Exit, guarded by Octar. Man. Allow me but one last embraceHamet. Oh! mother, [To the Guards.

Would I could rescue thee!

Man. Lost, lost again! Hamet. Inhuman, bloody Tartars! Oh! farewell!- -[Both together.] [Exeunt, on different sides.

SCENE I-A prison. HAMET in chains.

Enter ZAPHIMRI, (disguised in a Tartar dress)

with MIRVAN.

Mir. THERE stretched at length on the dark ground he lies,

Scorning his fate. Your meeting must be short. Zaph. It shall

Mir. And yet I tremble for the event:

Why wouldst thou venture to this place of danger!

Zuph. And canst thou deem me, then, so mean of spirit,

To dwell secure in ignominious safety,
With cold insensibility to wait
The lingering hours-with coward patience wait
them,

Deliberating on myself, while ruin
Nods over Zamti's house?

Mir. Yet whilst thou art here,

Thy fate's suspended on each dreadful moment. Zaph. I will hold converse with him, even though death

Were armed against the interview. [Exit Mirvan. Hamet. [Still on the ground.] What wouldst thou, Tartar?