Cha. How touch'd is my glad heart to see their joy! 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 daughter!
Now dissipate all doubt, remove all dread;
Has heaven, that gives me back my children, given 'em
Such as I lost them? come they Christians to me?
One weeps, and one declines a conscious eye!
Your silence speaks; too well I understand it.
Zara. I cannot, sir, deceive you; Osman's laws
Were mine; and Osman is not Christian.
Lus. Her words are thunder bursting on my head.
Wert not for thee, my son, I now should die.
Full sixty years I fought the Christian's cause;
Saw their doom'd temple fall, their power destroy'd:
Twenty, a captive, in a dungeon's depth;
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 gain'd, 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 murder'd brothers!-think they call thee;
Think that thou see'st 'em stretch their bloody arms,
And weep to win thee from their murd'rer's bosom.
E'en in the place where thou betray'st thy God,
He died, my child, to save thee!
Thou tremblest-Oh! admit me to thy soul;
Kill not thy aged, thy afflicted father;
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.
Zara. Oh, my father!
Dear author of my life! inform me,
What should my duty do?
Lus. By one short word,
To dry up all my tears, and make life welcome,
Say thou art a Christian.
Zara. Sir, I am a Christian.
Lus. Receive her, gracious heaven! and bless her for it.
Oras. Madam, the sultan order'd me to tell you
That he expects you instant quit this place,
And bid your last farewell to these vile Christians.
You, captive Frenchmen, follow me; for you
It is my task to answer.
How cautious man should be, to say, "I'm happy !" Lus. These are the times, my friends, to try our firmness,
Our Christian firmness.
Zara. Alas, sir! Oh!
Lus. Oh, you!-I dare not name you!
Farewell! but, come what may, be sure remember
You keep the fatal secret: for the rest,
Leave all to heaven-be faithful, and be blest.
Enter OSMAN and ORASMIN.
Osman. Orasmin, this alarm was false and groundless;
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 desert sands.
Their ships, 'tis true, have spread the Syrian seas:
And Lewis, hov'ring o'er the coast of Cyprus,
Alarms the fears of Asia.-But I've learn'd,
That, steering wide from our unmenac'd ports,
He points his thunder at th' Egyptian shore.
There let him war, and waste my enemies;
Their mutual conflict will but fix my throne.-
Release those Christians; I restore their freedom:
"Twill please their master, nor can weaken me.
Transport 'em, 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 conquer'd twice,
Condemn'd him to perpetual chains; but I
Have set him free, that I might triumph more.
Oras. The Christians gain an army in his name.
Osman. I cannot fear a sound.
Oras. But, sir, should Lewis
Osman. Tell Lewis, and the world, it shall be so:
Zara propos'd it, and my heart approves.
Thy statesman's reason is too dull for love!
But I talk on, and waste the smiling moments.
For one long hour I yet defer my nuptials;
She would employ it in a conference
With that Nerestan, whom thou know'st-that Christian!
Oras. And have you, sir, indulg'd that strange desire? Osman. What mean'st thou? They were infant slaves together;
Friends should part kind, who are to meet no more.
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 told.
Go; the good Christian waits; conduct him to her;
Zara expects thee. What she wills, obey.
Oras. Ho! Christian! enter.
Zara will soon approach: 1 go to find her.
Ner. In what a state, in what a place, I leave her?
Oh, faith! Oh, father! Oh, my poor, lost sister!
Thank heaven, it is not theu 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.
Zara. Forbid it, heaven!
Ner. His last sad hour's at hand.
That flow of joy, which follow'd 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 be 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 confirm'd a Christian!
Zara. 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 injur'd 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 dar'd avow,
And stamp apostate on a sister's heart?
Ner. Ab, do not misconceive me; if I err'd,
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 you.
Swear, swear by all the woes we all have borne,
By all the martyr'd saints who call you daughter,
That you consent, this day, to seal our faith,
By that mysterious rite which waits your call.
Zara. 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.
Ner. To hate the happiness of Osman's throne,
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