Plays and poems: by Miss Hannah Brand.

HUNIADES; OR, THE SIEGE OF BELGRADE: A Tragedy.

INTRODUCTION.

SIGISMOND, the son of the Emperor Charles IV. was elected King of Hungary 1386, and Emperor of Germany 1410. His first wife, Mary, being dead, he espoused, about the year 1414, Barbara, the daughter of Hernan, Count of Cilley. Sigismond made the Counts of Cilley independent Princes of the Empire; and called them to the Diets, without the consent of the House of Austria, their supreme Lords, who, unwilling to emancipate the County from its depend|ance upon them, declared war against the Count in possession. By Barbara, Sigismond had only one child, a daughter, named Elizabeth. Sigismond died 1437.

Albert V. Duke of Austria, who had married Elizabeth, Sigismond's daughter, succeeded him in the Empire, and the Kingdom of Hungary. Albert died 1440, leaving two daughters; his Queen Elizabeth was big with child at the time of his death; the child proved a son, and was named Ladislaus.

Upon the death of Albert II. as Emperor, and V. as Duke of Austria, his cousin, Frederick, great grandson of Albert II. Duke of Austria, was imme|diately elected Emperor.

The Hungarians, almost constantly engaged in war against the Turks, either for the defence of their own country, or of the neighbouring states, deemed an infant Prince and a Queen Regent unequal to the safe government of a kingdom which, by frequent wars, was kept in continual alarm. The crown of Hungary, by the constitution of the kingdom, being elective, (though sometimes possessed in hereditary succession) Uladislaus, the young King of Poland, was chosen King, by the advice of John Corvin Huniades, Earl of Bistrie, whom Uladislaus made Vaywode of Transylvania. Huniades was as cele|brated for his virtues as for his valour. He was pious towards God, faithful to his country and his prince, and kind and benevolent to his friends; as a warrior he was politic, of invincible courage, and mostly for|tunate: he was the first Christian commander who showed that the Turks might be overcome; and he obtained more victories against them than any one of the Christian Princes before him* 1.1.

Elizabeth, unable to prevent this choice, put her son, Uladislaus, under the protection of the Emperor Frederick III. Thus, of Albert's possessions, only Austria, and the kingdom of Bohemia, remained un|alienated from his posthumous son, Ladislaus.

In the battle of Varna, 1444, fought between the Turks, commanded by their King, Amurath II. and the Hungarians, led by Huniades, Uladislaus the King of Hungary was slain; Huniades, by whose side he fought, having left him to go and rally the left wing of the Christian army.

The Hungarians now elected Albert's son Ladi|slaus King; and they chose Huniades, their General, Governor of Hungary during his minority. The Em|peror Frederick detaining the infant King in Ger|many, Huniades, as Governor of Hungary, declared war against him. After a long contest, which the Hungarians were obliged to intermit, on account of their wars against the Turks, the Emperor, not strong enough to defend his dominions from being ravaged by the incursions of the Hungarians, at last in 1452 delivered up their king; then eleven years of age. An assembly was appointed at Vienna, to which the nobles of Hungary and Bohemia were invited. At this assembly it was decreed that, during the minority of Ladislaus, Huniades should govern Hungary; that George Podiebrad should govern Bohemia; and that Ulrick, Count of Cilley, great uncle to the King, should govern Austria, and be guardian of his person.

Count Cilley, envious of the glory of Huniades, excited some parties of Bohemians and Moravians to attack Upper Austria: but they proved unsuccessful when opposed by Huniades. Ambitious of the gov|ernment of Hungary, Count Cilley accused Hu|niades, the Governor, to the King; but he justified

himself from the accusation. Count Cilley's ambition increasing with the power which he derived from being the King's guardian; he attempted to make himself absolute master of Austria. To effect which, he secured the principal fortresses, by giving them to the command of unprincipled people whom he had attached to his interest; gradually removing Elsinger, and the Austrian nobility, from all offices of import|ance. This conduct gave great umbrage to the people. Elsinger took advantage of their discontent; and, aided by Huniades, obliged Ulrick to retire to his own territory of Cilley. Thus, by the bravery and conduct of these two warriors, Austria was wrested from Count Cilley's usurpation.

Mahomet II. the seventh King, and the first Em|peror of the Turks, who took Constantinople May 29, 1453, which his great grandfather, Bajazet I. and his father Amurath II. had unsuccessfully besieged, marched 1456* 1.2 with an army of 150,000 men to besiege Belgrade, then thought the key to Hungary.

As soon as the report of Mahomet's intention to besiege Belgrade, reached the young King Ladislaus, then fifteen years of age, he fled to the court of the Emperor Frederick; which much displeased his Hun|garian subjects, as it had before cost them a long and tedious contest to get him out of the Emperor's power.

Besides his numerous army, of 150,000 men, Mahomet provided a fleet, of 200 ships and gallies, which he sent up the Danube from Viden to Bel|grade; to the intent that no relief, or aid, should be brought into the city out of Hungary by the great rivers of the Danube and the Save; upon the con|fluence of which, the city of Belgrade stands. Not contented with thus closely blockading the city on all sides, Mahomet sent part of his fleet further up the Danube, and landing troops spoiled the country in many places on the banks of the river. On his first coming before Belgrade, he made a fierce as|sault, but was repulsed: he found the Hungarians ready to receive him, and prepared to skirmish with his troops, without the walls, as well as to defend the city. Mahomet, finding his arms so resolutely opposed, began to proceed more warily; and in|trenched his army. He provided for its safety, against the sudden sallies of the besieged, by casting up deep trenches and strong rampires. After plant|ing his battery, he began to shake the wall of the city most furiously with his great artillery: insomuch that he battered down a part of it level with the ground. But the defendants with great labour and industry speedily repaired it, by casting up new for|tifications and rampires, so that it was stronger than before.

Campestran, a Franciscan monk, having at this time preached, in Germany, a crusade against the Turks, had collected an army of 40,000 men. With

these, his followers, he entered Belgrade to assist in its defence against Mahomet, who was become the terror of all Christendom by his conquests, his enter|prising genius, his capacious mind improved by all the learning of the age, his indefatigable industry in the pursuit of whatever he undertook, his irresistible courage, his insatiable cruelty, his avowed impiety, his blood-thirstiness, his immeasurable ambition, his impious treachery, and his unrelenting flinty-hearted severity; so that against his ambition there was no mound, on his faith or friendship no dependance, and in his least displeasure death.

Huniades, who was gone to Upper Hungary, to raise supplies, was expected to sail from Buda, with a fleet of ships and gallies stored with warlike pro|visions; when Mahomet, having been a month be|fore Belgrade, prepared to give a general assault, although his superstitious troops were much dispirited from the appearance of two comets* 1.3; and the death of Carazius the Lieutenant-General, who was killed by a canon-shot from the city; which circumstances they considered as prognosticks of ill success. At this time, A. D. 1456, August 5, the fleet of Huniades came in sight, and was met by Mahomet's fleet four miles up the Danube beyond Belgrade.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

Christians.

• JOHN CORVIN HUNIADES; Regent of Hungary, Vaywode of Transilvania, Guar|dian to the Princess Agmunda, and General of the King's Forces.
• NICHOLAS VILACH; the Friend of Huniades.
• LADISLAUS CORVINUS; The eldest Son of the Regent Huniades, his Lieutenant General, and Deputy Governor of Transylvania.
• ULRICK, COUNT OF CILLEY; (Great Uncle to Ladislaus, King of Hungary and Bohe|mia, and Duke of Austria,) appointed by the States Regent of Austria, and Guardian to the King dur|ing his minority.
• RODOLPHO; the Confident of Count Cilley.
• CAMPESTRAN; a Franciscan Monk.
• MICHAEL ZILUGO; Governor of Belgrade, and President of the Council.
• ...First Lord. Old Officer. Herald.
• ...Lords of the Council, Officers, Soldiers, People, Guards.
• AGMUNDA; Daughter to the late Emperor Albert, and Sister to the young King Ladislaus.
• ELLA; an Attendant on the Princess Agmunda.

Turks.

• MAHOMET II. Emperor of the Turks.
• MUSTAPHA; his Minister and Favourite.
• CHUSANES; the General of the Turkish Forces.
• ZOGANUS; a Bashaw, Ambassador to the Hungarians.
• Bashaws, Agas, Janizaries, Guards, Mutes, &c.

Scene THE CITY OF BELGRADE, AND THE SUL|TAN'S TENT BEFORE IT.

Era A.D. 1456: Time—from the Noon of the 5th of August to Sun-rising, August 6th.

ADVERTISEMENT.

In the representation, many passages were left out: they are not however distinguished; as they will easily be perceived by persons acquainted with the nature of stage effect.

HUNIADES; OR, THE SIEGE OF BELGRADE.

Act First.

SCENE FIRST—A HALL OF STATE.

Several doors, from inner apartments, opening into the hall. In the front folding doors, Count Cilley com|ing forward through them; a couch seen in the inner apartment, from which he rises as the cur|tain draws up. Rodolpho following him.

COUNT CILLEY, RODOLPHO.

COUNT CILLEY.

IT mocks belief. Huniades arriv'd? His fleet in sight, engaging with the Turk's? Demons of air, in whirlwinds scatter both! Thou roaring Danube whelm them in thy flood! Destroy Huniades, though, he destroy'd, Plumed victory should forsake the Christian banner. And give to Mahomet unbounded empire.

RODOLPHO.

This passionate deportment tends to ruin; Your bounty has allur'd the people's hearts, Because they see no motive, but their interest, Which stimulates your ardour to relieve them; The mine you dig, should they suspect your purpose, Would be blown up with danger to yourself. Let circumspection guard what art has won; Opposeless is a foe new-crown'd by victory; Huniades now reigns in every heart. These succours, swiftly rais'd, and timely come To their relief, have chang'd the people's murmurings To joy and gratitude. Should you exclaim Against their idol, you excite suspicion. Still in the people's interest seem absorb'd, Seem joyful that Huniades is come With fresh supplies to feed their wives and children. This if he bring them not sows discontent.

COUNT CILLEY.

Curse on his coming! for it gives the lie To all I prophesy'd of his delay, And drooping courage. Long has he been seen?

RODOLPHO.

Three hours.

COUNT CILLEY.

Why instantly was I not told, When the fleet came in sight? Art thou too leagu'd

With fortune, and my foes, against my wishes? My favours merit better service from thee; Thy too late warning leaves me now no power To form such plans, as should have foil'd his speed.

RODOLPHO.

Vain, fruitless thought! thy passion warps thy judgment. Thou might'st as well hope to arrest yon Sun In mid career, as stop this gallant chief, When ardent in his country's cause he comes. Yet had I known, my Lord, you would have thank'd The man who told you that your foe was near, I could have summon'd you from needed sleep To see a grateful people mad with joy; To hear one voice of praise ascend the skies, That great Huniades, their guardian genius, Their tutelary God, was come to save them.

COUNT CILLEY.

Peace! for my ill-placed anger taunt me not. Huniades, the man I fear and envy, Whom I with deadly hate detest—he comes. Unsated vengeance fires my soul to phrenzy, Gods, he triumphant comes! Give me some hope, Contrive some means, that he may fall my victim!

RODOLPHO.

Be calm! and opportune event may aid you; Without supplies the city must surrender.

If now Huniades relieve Belgrade, The frighted King will strait return to celebrate His sister's marriage with the Servian prince. The Princess gone, the Regent's power is sapp'd; The guardianship of such a peerless gem, As your fair niece, gives power to rise still higher. 'Tis rumour'd, that his son Corvinus dar'd To ask her hand—

COUNT CILLEY.

How! my niece wed Corvinus? By heaven she never shall, whilst I have life; I first would give Belgrade, although the key Of the Hungarian realm, to Mahomet; And he would rid me both of son and father. Huniades! his blood commix with mine? Corvinus and Agmunda then would mount My coward nephew's throne, supplanting me. Accursed scheme! rise every fiend to blast it.

RODOLPHO.

The Regent has himself that danger warded; Glory, and not ambition, is his God: He made the Princess, at the altar, swear Never to wed his son. But other cares Demand your present thoughts. A hasty council Has been conven'd; which soon broke up, com|manding Such troops to muster in Saint Julian's Square, As can be spar'd from duty on the walls.

These, from the western gate, led by Corvinus, In one vast column, through the Turkish camp, Must fight their way against redoubling foes; Whilst with his troops, and hoped supplies, Huniades Shall disembark. In this their purpos'd sally, A thousand of your Austrian troops they ask To march with the rear-guard, and flank the river, The ground maintaining which the van shall gain, And their retreat back to Belgrade secure.

COUNT CILLEY.

Ask me to aid the triumph of Huniades? Bid the wreck'd seaman quit the plank he clings to! Bid the parch'd wretch, when fever fires his blood, Part with the cooling beverage from his lip! 'Tis a gross insult to demand my troops; Not one shall march beneath Corvinus' standard.

RODOLPHO.

Think of the consequence of this refusal. 'Twould sound unpopular, and most suspicious, That Austria's Regent, the King's guardian, And his great Uncle too, refus'd his aid Stores to convey into a town besieged, Where every citizen eats scanty bread. Without these succours famine will ensue, Belgrade must yield, and with it falls a kingdom. Your aid is not of service to your foe, But to yourself; worded the people's friend, You lose their confidence, if in this misery

Your deeds desert them. Let not fury blind you, Weigh, with your wonted policy, your interest. Revenge and hate must wait a riper hour.

COUNT CILLEY.

I know not that; their hour perhaps is now. My spirits feel a prescience which prolaims The balance of my fate aloft is pois'd; And shall I make the adverse scale preponderate?

(pauses.)

Gods! give me empire, let me reign or die! I would command my fate, nor owe to chance My envy'd height. Huniades destroy'd, The Regency of Hungary is mine; Then, this Boy King, the people will depose: Huniades, whilst Regent, more defends him Than could embattled legions arm'd to save him.

RODOLPHO.

My Lord! the exigence demands despatch, Zilugo urged me for a speedy answer; Resolve, lest your delay excite suspicion, And make him penetrate your secret motive. I know he views your conduct with distrust, And lynx-eyed jealousy may view it right; Unless you warily avoid its ken.

COUNT CILLEY.

Be thine the craft t'elude his penetration, Smoothing my answer to a courteous form.

This Governour I fain would win: so tell him, My troops should in this enterprise take part, To the last man; but, that I fear the Sultan, When we shall sally to convoy the succours, Will try to force the eastern gate by storm. This and the wall adjacent I must guard. To draught my troops, should an assault be given, Would be most certain danger to Belgrade. I but withhold them for important service, More perilous far than that which I decline. Grace this with all the artifice of speech, And speak me such as he would wish to find me. To my Lieutenant then the order give, That Cosmo shall the eastern gate command; And Hernan's regiment surround the palace. Report my fears that the Turks mean to storm. And instantly to arms my Austrians call.

RODOLPHO.

Is this parade meant but to blind the council? Or have these preparations other motives? Instruct me, lest I fail to aid your purpose.

COUNT CILLEY.

This palace I will seize. My niece the Princess, Leagu'd with my foes or not, shall be my prisoner Till I succeed; and, if I fail, my victim. I must harangue the crowd, distribute money, Accuse Huniades of breach of faith, That he has plann'd his son should wed the Princess.

Dethrone my nephew, and usurp his crown. If this inflame the people, as I wish, Corvinus and Huniades return'd

(spoken with insidious meaning.)

Shall be for treason seiz'd, and thou their guard, As thou wast Elsinger's. The Monk Campestran, Fanatic priest, shall writhe beneath my vengeance. I'll seize the Sword his insolence refus'd me: Bless'd by the Pope, the people hold it sacred, Thinking miraculous power attends the wearer. Campestran shall repent his proud defiance: Without his aid, sole Regent of this realm Belgrade shall hail me, and ere long its King. With thy accustom'd zeal my orders execute.

Exit Rodolpho.

SCENE SECOND.

COUNT CILLEY, THE GOVERNOR MICHAEL ZILUGO.

(Zilugo enters hastily as Rodolpho goes out.)

COUNT CILLEY.

What trouble read I in your looks, Zilugo?

ZILUGO.

Grief at the loud laments of starving thousands, And at the silent tears of hardy veterans, Drooping dismay'd.—The fleet is now in flames—

COUNT CILLEY.

The Regent's fleet, which came this morn in sight?

ZILUGO.

Is now destroying. Nought can be seen of it, For bursting flames, and volumes of thick smoke, Which the west wind towards the city blows. We fear our godlike champion now expires, Or, chain'd, is led in triumph by the victor. I have just call'd the council to advise What, in this exigence, we ought to do. Fain would Corvinus sally forth, with all Our force, at the west gate, and through the invaders, On that side now redoubling, force a passage; And save, from Mahomet, his gallant Father, With those brave troops who may escape the flames.

COUNT CILLEY.

The attempt is madness. What, risk our whole force To save one man? Hazard Belgrade for him?

ZILUGO.

Huniades that One,—hazard an Empire. Though gratitude were dumb, yet interest pleads; For seven score thousand Turks, inur'd to war, Round our beleaguer'd walls have trenches open'd, And our own safety now demands his aid. Who but himself had fought against their fleet This morn? Yet he, undaunted Chief, engag'd Their ships at fearful odds. Had victory smil'd.

Boldly must he his landing have made good I' the teeth of all the Sultan's chosen soldiers. And after that, although you think it madness For us to pass athwart the Turkish lines, Yet he, with not the tenth of half our force, Would, through their camp, have hewn himself a path; Then with tir'd troops, from a third battle panting, Belgrade had been again by him reliev'd. This godlike man shall we, with coward caution, Desert, now, when for us, he stands the mark Of hostile rage?

COUNT CILLEY.

Defeat, in mid career, His boldness stops; and, with less daring, prudence Warns us to act, nor, by our ruin, grace His fall. Huniades, or dead, or captive, The tottering state must chuse another Regent: A Nation's praise will that brave man deserve, Who, in this peril, dares to take the helm.

ZILUGO.

Now, at this stormy crisis, to be Regent Is to encounter toil and certain danger: A thankless office, where all may be lost, And nothing can be won. Much the King's flight To Frederick's court, the people has displeas'd. This beardless King, deserting his own cause, Is grown unpopular. The soldiers fight

Dead-hearted. Yet where great Corvinus leads, Adoring him, with ready swords they follow. Another Regent strew'd with thorns will find His road, unless our well-plac'd choice select That hero whom the soldiers love and fear.

COUNT CILLEY.

A Regent must be chosen, or this Corvinus, This boy, will arrogate his Father's power, Defy the council's orders, waste our strength, And lose the city of the most importance In the Hungarian realm. If you should aid This rash exploit, I shall suspect your loyalty. Traitors I deem Corvinus, and Huniades, Who would usurp my infant Nephew's throne. To guard his rights, I claim the General's truncheon.

Enter a Messenger.

MESSENGER

(addressing the Governor).

My Lord! approaching tow'rds the eastern gate A train of Turks appears, so very numerous, That it resembles more a hostile army Than a state embassy. They sound a parley.

ZILUGO.

Let trumpets from the eastern tower accept it, And send forth Heralds to demand their purpose, Which here report.

Exit Messenger.

COUNT CILLEY.

Now shew your zeal to serve The state; and in the council name me Regent.

ZILUGO.

Forego that thought, nor hazard a repulse. My Lord! at present, if the council chuse A man for that high office, much I doubt, Nay I foretell, they never will name you.

COUNT CILLEY.

And yet this realm demands my care, Zilugo! This new alliance with the Prince of Servia, Will keep the sword for ever in our hands Against the Turk, who, when he quits Belgrade, With fire and sword, will ravage Servia, Which, by the treaty, we are bound to succour. Huniades has some base views in this; Some secret tribute, or some promis'd service. My Niece is sold.

ZILUGO.

Unjust are your suspicions. The Regent knows no interest, but his Country's; And Servia, aided by our arms, will prove Hungaria's bulwark 'gainst the Turk's invasion. Therefore he gives the Princess to Matthias. Although her heart in secret loves another; Yet has his counsel o'er that love prevail'd, For the state's welfare, and his sovereign's safety.

COUNT CILLEY.

And can you, Governor! approve this marriage? The Servian Prince will, like his treacherous father, Deceitful prove; that father who, before you, Murder'd your Brother, basely, in cold blood.

ZILUGO.

My sword the traitor slew; and, justice satisfy'd, Resentment sleeps within its victim's tomb.

COUNT CILLEY.

Had I a Regent's power, I would oppose This purpos'd marriage: highly I dislike it. Form'd by Huniades, it hides some treason. Let my Niece wed with some Hungarian Lord, Whose service such a high reward may merit. Amongst the gallant nobles of this realm, I know not who has from the state, Zilugo! Such claims to honour as yourself. Your son—

ZILUGO

(haughtily).

I understand you, Count! I know, my interest Is, with the Council, of sufficient weight For such a bribe: and, when inclin'd to sell Honour and faith, I know a purchaser, Who, wanting both, would give a prodigal price, Glut my revenge, and my ambition feed,

COUNT CILLEY.

I prize your zeal, and therefore court your friendship.

'Tis my esteem for you, which makes me chuse Your Son to wed my Niece. Whilst to your merit I am thus just, you through mistake oppose me.

ZILUGO.

It now behoves me bluntly to inform you, You lose your dignity in these attempts. Your sanguine temper grasps at unjust power, Which vested in you would prove dangerous. The man who asks more than he ought to have, Must meet repulse. When honest minds are rous'd To oppose audacity, respect is lost In that contempt, which, all unfair designs, Whether in public or in private life, Sooner or later ever must incur.

COUNT CILLEY

(half drawing his sword).

I'll teach your bluntness to contemn my power,

ZILUGO

(drawing his sword and retreating).

Ulrick! this sword is practis'd 'gainst assassins—

COUNT CILLEY

(drawing his sword advances).

As man to man, in equal fight advance.

ZILUGO.

No! whilst my sword can serve my Country's cause, I will not use it but for her; except To guard my life. If I escape the peril,

Which now awaits us, call me forth—the friend Of Elsinger will meet you; brave, fallen Elsinger! His, and our noble Regent's, threatening sword Kept from your grasp all Austria's rich domains; For had not they in your career oppos'd you, Instead of Guardian to your infant Nephew, You first had rebel been, and then usurper. The power you have our nobles think unsafe; Therefore the Council will not chuse you Regent.

COUNT CILLEY.

They shall by force elect me, if not peaceably; The army shall control them in my favour.

ZILUGO.

Only that army, which you hither brought. Ulrick! you now confess, what all suspected, That here your troops were station'd with design Most hostile to this State; we knew, your purpose Was not to grace the nuptials of your Niece, Though that was your pretence to gain them entrance: Yet, as 'twas rumour'd, that the unnumber'd host, Which Mahomet led, was marching to Belgrade. Its gates were open'd to receive your forces, Unquestion'd your designs.

COUNT CILLEY.

And who should question them? Am I, a German Prince, and Austria's Regent, To move without due state, lest you should frown?

ZILUGO.

Conceal'd ambition lures you to a plan, In which success will prove most fatal to you. I know your valour; but in Europe's wars However skill'd, in Asiatic modes Of wily fight, or fierce terrific onset, Your courage and your conduct are untry'd. Your first essay, in this extreme of danger, Cannot be made. We must give battle soon, Or else by famine perish. I am your friend—

COUNT CILLEY.

Let me but find you so. Such vast returns—

ZILUGO.

Mistake me not: I am your friend who warns you To shun dishonour's gulph, which yawns beneath The mouldering precipice, whose brink you tread With such temerity. Mark, that I speak not, Solely, to save your honour; but to avoid Intestine war, to you, to us, unsafe; To avoid disgrace and ruin, chains and slavery, Which, if you lead our troops, must be our fate. Then be advis'd—

Enter Heralds.

FIRST HERALD.

Impatient to gain entrance, The Turks declare they come with terms of honour,

Though, our fleet burnt, they might as victors come; And that, provided the Hungarians Aid not the Servian Prince, and instant give Agmunda for a bride to Mahomet, With thirty thousand ducats yearly tribute, The Sultan will consent to raise the siege; But if refus'd, Belgrade he means to storm.

ZILUGO.

I fear some craft. The Council now is met: These terms, unlook'd for, shall be laid before them. May Heaven direct their choice! Admit the embassy!

Exit Heralds.

Your Austrian troops, my Lord! in serried files. So guard this palace, and the eastern gate, We need not fear their numbers should surprise us.

COUNT CILLEY.

It will be well, if their best services Can make me less suspected by Zilugo.

ZILUGO.

My Lord! will you with me the Council join▪ There your advice, as Uncle to the Princess, With due respect and deference will meet.

SCENE THIRD.

CORVINUS, COUNT CILLEY, THE GOVERNOR MICHAEL ZILUGO.

CORVINUS.

(In complete armour: his casque gold, the crest a ra|ven, a large plume of black feathers waving over it. Speaking to an Officer as he enters.)

Campestran is not here. In his own chapel, Or in the council-hall, Ernesto! seek him. Zilugo! will the Council grant my prayer, Empower me to avenge, or save my Father?

COUNT CILLEY.

We mourn his fate, but must avoid to share it.

CORVINUS.

Matchless ingratitude! Desert Huniades! So oft his Country's tutelary God? Is this the last, brave battle he shall fight?

ZILUGO.

My Lord! the Council is but just assembled; Hope in their justice for your Father's rescue. Corvinus, have you heard the Turkish embassy?

CORVINUS.

With grief, with indignation, I have heard it;

Peace on such terms makes us the slaves of Mahomet. The giddy people think it of advantage, And joyful shout "Our Princess will redeem us." A Turkish marriage is most vile disgrace. We will not tamely wear the chains of Mahomet; This shameful union never shall take place.

COUNT CILLEY.

Speech so peremptory becomes you not, Young Lord! I think compliance will be prudent.

CORVINUS.

Heavens! to this spoiler would you give the Princess? His sword yet reeks with his Sultana's blood* 1.4, Wantonly slain, by his own hand, to shew His whole, astonish'd court, he could in cruelty Exceed whatever monster yet debas'd The nature, or disgrac'd the name of man. Hence let us drive this fierce, imperial ruffian, Or nobly perish in the just attempt. Let him the city storm; it shall be sav'd,

Or I will perish in its last intrenchment; Leave him of my defeat a sad memorial, A trophy, which shall make my victor mourn.

COUNT CILLEY

(very sarcastically).

For tilts and tournaments, vain-glorious stripling! Save idle gallantry.

CORVINUS.

Injurious Prince! That stripling's sword has gain'd a coat of mail, Which malice cannot pierce. My past success Warrants my present hopes.

COUNT CILLEY

(going out).

Think not to risk Belgrade, and slaughter thousands at thy will.

Exit Count Cilley.

SCENE FOURTH.

CORVINUS, THE GOVERNOR MICHAEL ZILUGO.

ZILUGO.

Ulrick's ambition plans to seize the crown; But thou wilt guard it for its trembling master.

CORVINUS.

May Heaven forsake me, when I him forsake. Bred up my foe, yet still he is my King: And could ambition warp my sworn allegiance, A panoply invulnerable guards him, Which courage, or which honour ne'er assails; Namely—his helpless state,—sacred to me As sainted shrines, nor dare I to invade it.

ZILUGO.

O more than monarch, princely-minded youth! Worthy to mount that throne thy temperance shuns. More glorious thus to guard a crown than wear it. The spirit of Huniades lives in thee, O Son, most worthy of thy godlike Father! Thou know'st my heart; say how I best may serve thee.

CORVINUS.

Haste, join the assembled Council, and oppose With all your influence this hated marriage. Speak my great Father's claim to ev'ry aid, E'en to the last, brave man the State can raise: Speak for a friend, a patriot, and a Son, With all a friend's, a Son's, a patriot's, zeal. But should'st thou fail in these, protract the council; A moment now is worth an age hereafter.

ZILUGO.

I to the Council will prefer your suit.

(To Campestran as he enters.)

Campestran comes. Hail, saintly warrior! Advise, assist us, in this hour of fate, To save a Throne, a Kingdom, and a Friend.

(Zilugo goes out.)

SCENE FIFTH.

CAMPESTRAN, CORVINUS.

CORVINUS.

Good father! hast thou heard the Sultan's embassy, His arrogant demands?

CAMPESTRAN.

I have, my son! Ernesto found me in the council-hall, Where Ulrick now harangues in praise of peace.

CORVINUS

(with great eagerness).

Our warriors surely execrate the terms; Nor will ignobly sacrifice Agmunda To this barbarian.

CAMPESTRAN.

A general panic Has, like some sudden pestilence, unstrung Each heart: the icy poison of dismay

Freezes the life-blood of their vaunted courage. Though murmuring, all consent to purchase peace, To yield the Princess, and to pay the tribute.

CORVINUS.

Curse on the unmanly spirits which desert her! We shall be chronicled to future times For traitors, cowards, to devote a Princess To slavery, nay to death, to ransom Us Only from sharing in the chance of war. Our fortune ebbs, but is not desperate yet; Even then, our lives with loss of honour bought, Were purchas'd at a price beyond their worth. Then let us save her, and prevent our shame. O father!—

(pauses much agitated).

CAMPESTRAN.

Why dejected dost thou pant, Like timorous fawn caught in the snarer's toils? I know thee not; thou art so fallen and spiritless. What trouble thus unnerves thee? Rouse, Corvinus! Collect thy thoughts. Support thy present woes With the same equal mind, and dauntless courage, Thou at an army's head repell'st thy enemy. Thy grief, though just, should not disarm thy mind. Recall thy godlike energy of soul; Reflect on thy own fame; respect thyself. Can courage aid us, or can wisdom save? In every exigence they still were thine. Oft has thy valour sav'd the doubtful field.

And oft thy counsel has inform'd the wise. If aught can now be done, thou canst achieve it; Thy arm our bulwark, and thy mind our helm.

CORVINUS.

Faint hope gleams on my soul; but so o'ercast With fears, which, like to cowardice, unman me; Thus sunk, through very weakness, I could weep. There is one step which might avert these ills; A venturous act befits a losing cause.

(Recovering his spirit.)

These coward nobles will our honour stain; Ingrates, who leave my Father to his fate, A slave, or fallen, unrescu'd, unreveng'd.

CAMPESTRAN.

Where glory leads, my troops, thou may'st com|mand: They are not veterans; but zeal supplies Experience. Wait not the Council's orders; Lead forth my troops. I by thy side will fight, Conquer, or die.

CORVINUS.

Dost thou dislike this marriage?

CAMPESTRAN.

Yes; as a man, and Christian. Canst thou think, I left my blest retreat, my holy brethren, Hither to come to place a helpless lamb

Upon the altar, for the cruel Turk To immolate, beneath the olive branch Of peace, held forth in treachery to blind us? Does the Crusade I preach admit such peace; Or our religion hold such nuptials holy? What is thy aim? If in thy self-desertion, Thou canst a purpose form, give me to know it.

CORVINUS.

Oh! canst thou not divine from looks my wishes, Learn, from the throbbings of my heart, my hopes, And from these tears of anguish, that despair Which blasts them all? Wert thou but skill'd to read My inmost soul— Let me not give it speech, Unless thou, father! kindly wilt recall Thy youthful ardour, ere the cloyster's gloom Chasten'd thy thoughts to dwell on Heaven alone. Love once—

CAMPESTRAN.

Besits this time a lover's tale? When Ulrick plots against thy fame and life, When peace, alike impolitic and shameful, Thy country threats with everlasting chains?

CORVINUS.

To avert that peace one way alone remains, If you consent.

CAMPESTRAN.

Speak but the means.

CORVINUS.

Ah! wilt thou?

(falters.)

CAMPESTRAN.

Why falter thus? Declare; what can I do To avert this shameful peace?

CORVINUS.

Persuade the Princess To accept my vows—unite us instantly, And supersede this most unchristian sacrifice.

CAMPESTRAN.

'Tis the sure means to avoid this fatal peace. Hast thou a hope she will consent to this? Betroth'd to Servia's Prince, who would be here To claim her hand, but for the Sultan's army; A part of which invades the Servian frontiers, Whilst he, in person, storms Belgrade.

CORVINUS.

Once, highly Was I esteem'd. The fair Agmunda gave Consent, that to my Father I should tell My love. State-policy, usurping tyrant Over domestic bliss, destroy'd my hopes; The Regent heard my suit, but not the Parent. Parental love Agmunda's rigid Guardian Now first forgot: he sent me from Belgrade. The Princess, by my Father's firmness aw'd,

(Her ductile mind won by delusive reasons) Promis'd— Oh horrour! by a solemn Oath, Never to wed but with his full consent; And should he die, ere yet the nuptial torch For her was lighted, ne'er to wed his Son.

CAMPESTRAN.

Oh most unjust! an oath like this to exact Her tyrant Uncle better had become Than our brave Chief; nor ought she to have sworn it. Surely thy rank, thy fame, merits her hand.

CORVINUS.

Then, good Campestran! thou wilt plead my cause?

CAMPESTRAN.

Plead for thyself; and with a lover's haste.

CORVINUS.

How shall I gain admission to her presence? She will not see me since her fatal oath. Though you consent, I have a thousand fears, Perhaps she'll scorn me, will not let me save her; Her hand is to another lover promis'd.

CAMPESTRAN.

This marriage with the Turk she must abhor. From his detested nuptials you redeem her, When all desert her, Uncle, Nobles, People. Plead this, and speak the hazard, which your love For her encounters.

CORVINUS.

Should my generosity Appear beyond my love, I meet repulse. Great souls from obligations nobly fly. She must be won, ere she has time to think Herself oblig'd.

CAMPESTRAN.

Take courage, son! her love You merit. In my chapel dormitory, Behind the altar of the palace church, I'll wait your coming, and there join your hands. Then will I gird you with that blessed Sword, There plac'd in trust upon that sacred altar: That Sword which Ulrick has in vain demanded. Farewell. An old man's half prophetic zeal Foretells a cause so just will meet success.

CORVINUS.

Transporting thought, Agmunda for my bride! Grant me to save my Father and my Country, And make the measure of my bliss complete.

Exeunt separately.

End of the First Act.

Act Second.

SCENE FIRST—A CHURCH.

The platform of the high altar raised a step above the floor of the church, and of sufficient breadth for any body to walk upon it, without coming to the edge of the step, which is covered with crimson cloth. A large altar table, covered with crimson velvet, fringed with gold. At the back of the altar, over the table, a luminous Cross; under which hangs a magnificent Sword, suspended from a rich belt. On each side of the altar, upon the raised platform, footstools covered like the altar table. The Princess Agmunda, kneeling upon the footstool on the south side, or left hand, of the altar.

PRINCESS

(alone).

IF for its sins, THOU visitest this land, Destroy it not in wrath! O! let the wings Of mercy shield us from thy dread displeasure; If we must suffer, be it from thy hand. Give us not up to our blood-thirsty foes; But grant us strength, and courage, to withstand them: Defeat their stratagems, confound their counsels; And aid thy servant who now fights our cause.

SCENE SECOND.

THE PRINCESS; ELLA.

PRINCESS.

(Descending from the altar, and coming forward as soon as Ella enters).

Is the fight over; Is our fleet victorious? Why this long interval, without intelligence?

ELLA.

The anxious multitude have so beset The watch-tower, that your messengers can scarce Pass through the throng.

PRINCESS.

But what account bring'st thou?

ELLA.

I must conceal the news

(aside).

Corvinus wishes—

PRINCESS.

I will not hear.—Have I not oft conjured thee, For my mind's peace, to speak that name no more? Duty commands, that I forget our loves: All thoughts of him, whenever they obtrude, Must unapprov'd, undwelt on, be dismiss'd. O ceaseless anguish! Ere I chase one thought, Another, and another, torturing comes, Mocking my best resolves.

ELLA.

Corvinus begs. That you would see him now.

PRINCESS.

To bring this message Was wrong; and, although check'd, again to speak it, Argues unfriendliness, tempting to crime. Ella! thou knew'st I dar'd not see Corvinus.

ELLA.

Forgive me. Yet his wretchedness so struck me, That, ere my judgment weigh'd, my heart was won To pity his distress, and tell his suit.

PRINCESS.

Rash, thoughtless, that thou art! to be thus won To tempt my soul. If thou could'st not resist His sorrows, how shall I be proof against them? Injur'd Corvinus! I destroy thy peace; I dare not see thee more; for should'st thou sue, And plead, despair might urge my tortur'd soul To violate the unjust, the guilty Oath, Which I, in bitterness of heart, repent. Ye soft ideas! Ye illusive hopes Of love and bliss, begone! Assail me not. Whatever joys fate had reserv'd for me, Thriftless I mortgag'd, ere possession came: The ruinous payment beggars future hours.

Oh, to forget! for thoughts of happier prospects Embitter misery.

ELLA.

Yet see Corvinus; Somewhat of moment has he to impart, Which it imports you instantly to learn.

PRINCESS.

Forbear! 'Tis virtue bids me shun the conflict. Tell him, I cannot see him; I'm at the altar, Imploring Heaven's protection for my Country. I am its victim.—Say not that to him.

(Exit Ella.)

A voluntary wretch, I made myself, Alas! ere my heart knew how much it lov'd. Why did I swear for ever to renounce him? Aid me, kind heaven! against this rooted passion; Assist me to forget this dear Corvinus!

SCENE THIRD.

THE PRINCESS, CORVINUS.

CORVINUS

(entering his Casque in his hand).

Heaven, hear her not! but now two faithful hearts Reward.

PRINCESS

(turning from Corvinus).

Why is this trying moment come?

CORVINUS

(kneeling).

Agmunda! bless the lover who adores you, And pitying end his woes! When last we parted—

PRINCESS.

We parted then for ever. Rise, my Lord!

(He rises.)

It was not well to invade this holy place, When my sad heart was communing with Heaven. The affianc'd bride of brave Matthias grieves, That you should dare infringe the sacred mound Of female delicacy, wounding her soul By searching out those secret, inmost sentiments, Which duty, time, and absence, will o'ercome. On earth we meet no more. Regard this moment. As if, from awful summons, thou stood near The death-bed of a soon departing friend: Let my Request, I solemnly adjure thee, As if it were that dying friend's Request, Be sacred held. My Brother is thy King; Take no advantage of the People's love, Remain his Subject. Then, to her last of life, With sisterly affection, will Agmunda Remember thee. Farewell—resign—forget me— Honour and Fame demand the sacrifice.

Goes towards the altar, Corvinus follow•…•… her, she stops, and again comes forward.

CORVINUS.

To call thee mine, is the first honour which My soul desires. Alas! I once had hopes That the sweet dreams of childhood were not false.

PRINCESS.

Ah! flattering dreams! they fled with infancy. Inexorable fate has seal'd our doom; Nor leaves one hope of happier days to cheer us. But virtue still is left us midst our woes; Then let us summon courage to sustain them, As virtue bids.

CORVINUS.

Heaven first, of each perfection, Must thee deprive, ere I with courage can.

PRINCESS.

Thy duties all command it. Think, Corvinus! Reflect on all the reasons, duties, claims, Thy Father wisely urg'd when he forbad thee Ever to hope my hand. Chaste honour, conscience, Filial obedience, a patriot's duty, And sacred friendship's debt of gratitude, Have plac'd their adamantine bars against Thy love. Respect my peace, forbear thy suit.

CORVINUS.

Thy heart can plead for every claim but mine. My love is sacrific'd to raise thy glory. Be songs of triumph thine—

PRINCESS.

Unjust Corvinus! Accuse me not of such vain-glorious pride. My rank demands the sacrifice I make, The subject's fealty claims the Prince's love. To the State's interest I am now devote; To insure its happiness my own is yielded. A Nation's welfare, and my Brother's safety, Bade me forego the choice my heart had made: 'Twas reason's dictate, and made honour's law, By the strong Oath exacted by thy Father: To spotless honour sacred be that Oath. Let thy firm soul resist its present feelings; Reproach me not— Alas! I know thy woes; I— I inflict them— but I more than share them.

CORVINUS.

My anguish canst thou feel, and yet persist? Let thy relenting pity end my torments.

PRINCESS.

Seek not to melt my heart to vain repentance; The motives which impell'd forbid retreat.

CORVINUS.

Obdurate Princess! Thou hast never lov'd.

PRINCESS.

Leave me! To see thee thus distress'd, Corvinus! Adds to the conflict of my tortur'd soul:

Spare! spare! my grief, I agonize at thine. All dearer ties forget;—think me thy sister; And urge my duties with a Brother's sternness.

CORVINUS.

Oh! has thy heart no pity for my sufferings? Forgive the boldness of despair! Thou must Be mine.

(He seizes her hand wildly; and draws her further from the altar.)

PRINCESS.

Add not thy phrensy to my woes: I pity, I esteem, I— Oh release me!

(Endeavours to withdraw her hand.)

My hand cannot be thine. My Oath forbids it.

CORVINUS.

Wilt thou not hazard something to redeem me?

PRINCESS.

All! All! but truth and honour: these I dare not. Strive not to make me hateful to myself— Oh! what can I, to mitigate thy grief?

CORVINUS.

Let pity plead; be generous, be just: Recall my doom, and save thyself, sweet excellence! From our curs'd foe, from treacherous, savage Ma|homet, Who now insulting claims thee for his bride.

PRINCESS.

Detested thought!

CORVINUS.

Prevent the hell I must Endure to see thee in base Mahomet's arms. Think what the rage of madness and despair, Might make me do against us both.

PRINCESS.

No more: I never will consent to such a sacrifice. Oh! dire dishonour! wed a Turk! a murderer! An Infidel! who Christian rites abhors! When was this fatal proposition made?

CORVINUS.

Even now. Ambassadors attend the Council, Demanding tribute, and thy hand in marriage, For price of peace with their inhuman master: And they will take thee hence this very day, Unless thou give me sacred right to claim thee. The coward Council all desert thy cause: Except myself, Campestran, and Zilugo, They are unanimous, sway'd by thy Uncle, Basely to yield thee to this savage Prince.

PRINCESS.

The people will not: I'll appeal to them; Invoke their justice, and implore their pity. Let rank, and proud prerogative, desert me;

My Uncle scorn, defame, oppress, insult me; Still fearless will I urge my freeborn right, And whilst with conscious virtue glows my breast, As suff'ring now in their, and honour's, cause, What more I fear'd, Heaven knows, than death itself, I will dare hope that worthy, generous hearts Will not be steel'd when helpless woman pleads. Though human nature hastily may err, And with rash judgment to oppression lean, Mercy and Justice for a while be husti'd; Their heavenly voice will not be silenc'd long, But like the glorious Sun will burst the cloud, Dispel the storm, and with more radiance shine. A people truly brave are kind and just, They will protect me till thy father comes.

CORVINUS.

Thy Uncle's emissaries sap their fealty: Easily led, they to the palace fly In crowds, and think this marriage their sole hope.

PRINCESS.

Has Heaven withdrawn its attributes from man? Mercy and Justice, are they fled from earth? Inhuman people! To devote me thus, To such a wretch! A more than Moloch Sacrifice! Let bold rebellion rear its fiend-like arm, Belie the sacred oath of its allegiance, And immolate that blood it swore to guard.

My life their swords may take; but to this marriage Never will I consent; nor be the victim Of a peace, inglorious and unsafe; A peace that would dethrone my infant Brother, And for his kingdom forge eternal chains; Which crafty Mahomet, as my right, would claim. No! with the dauntless spirit of my race, With firmness will I meet the coming storm. 'Tis but to die;—and for his Prince's welfare, Bravely each soldier death defies; shall I, With a dear Brother's cause conjoin'd, dare less Than the poor peasant, for my anointed King? Leave me alone, to meet my dubious fate, And in thy turn, abandon me, Corvinus! From coward nobles, an ungrateful people, From an insidious Uncle, take example.

CORVINUS.

Honour and love forbid me to obey thee. Campestran sanctifies, by his consent, The only means that can from slavery save us. When duty pleads my cause can love be silent? Is there no gentle voice that moves thy heart, To pity, and reward, my tried affection?

PRINCESS.

My hand to thee would be a fatal gift. My Uncle seeks thine, and thy Father's ruin. He envies your high fame, and dreads your power: Were we united, some perfidious act,

(In which the ill-tutor'd King might blindly join,) Would for the victim of his hatred mark thee; And thou might'st fall; or else, to guard thy life, Thy sword must be unsheath'd against thy Sovereign; Perhaps the crown thou from his brow might'st tear—

CORVINUS.

Canst thou suspect my faith? All that I ought To promise, here I swear. Thy Brother's Throne, His sacred Person, and his Rights inviolate, My sword and life shall guard. Myself I must Protect; but if I ever pass the bounds Of self-defence against him, then may'st thou, May Heaven desert me; may its vengeance strike me, And by that hand which two-fold power would give it,

(Draws a dagger from his bosom.)

By thine—Take this, my honest pledge of faith; If I invade thy Brother's Rights, or wink When aught invades them, plunge it in my heart.

(He offers the dagger; the Princess turns aside and retires a step, he still offers the daggers.)

O trust my zeal, my honour, and my loyalty! Reward my faithful love, or be this night The Tyrant's Bride.

PRINCESS

(walking from Corvinus).

What ought I to resolve? I shrink with terrour from a fate so cruel; What to avoid, or what to choose, I know not.

(Returning to Corvinus.)

I know thy love, and I will trust thy honour. Corvinus! I accept this horrid pledge.

(Takes the dagger.)

If thou betray thy King, know, in my right, Thou ne'er shalt wear his crown. Great Albert's Daughter Will use this dagger, as her Father ought, Against herself, the Accomplice of thy crime, If she should fail to guard his infant Son, For giving Thee the power to shake his Throne.

(She puts the dagger into her bosom.)

CORVINUS.

I wish no empire but Agmunda's heart. My love! my bride! sweet source of ev'ry joy! My soul exults that thou, at last, art mine. Devoted to thy cause, my zeal and loyalty Shall show the rapturous gratitude I feel. This instant must we plight our mutual faith.

(Corvinus opens the door on the North side of the altar, speaking to Campestian, who comes forward.)

Campestran waits to join our hands. Good father▪

SCENE FOURTH.

THE PRINCESS, CORVINUS, CAMPESTRAN.

PRINCESS.

Campestran! holy man! do thou direct me.

CAMPESTRAN.

May heaven direct us for our good; and guide Our erring minds to what is best. Your hands I will consent to join. Thy unjust Oath, And thy pledg'd faith, to Servia's brave Prince, I own are obstacles against these nuptials. But I so much abhor a human sacrifice, And such, thou must be, to the faithless Mahomet, That I dare urge thy marriage with Corvinus; Rome's Pontiff will absolve thy breach of Oath; Rash was the vow; unjust was its exaction. Huniades has err'd through over zeal, Which should have met rejection, not compliance.

(The Princess weeps much agitated.)

This deep distress is thy own act and deed. The Council's sitting cannot be prolong'd; Your Uncle loudly calls for its decision, Which, well he knows, will be to yield you up. To supererrogate has been thy fault, This Oath no duty could require; thou, having Thy free-will fetter'd, hast but choice of evil.

Choose;—wed this Turk; your life, your faith, en|danger; Or break your oath, and be this Hero's Bride.

(Campestran takes her hand, and gives it to Corvinus.)

Corvinus! she is yours. Lead to the altar.

PRINCESS,

(Retreating from Corvinus and withdrawing her hand).

Lead to some altar where light never gleams; Befitting oaths that sinfully are sworn. This is no altar for our vows. Here Heaven, With all its hosts of Angels, Saints, and Martyrs, Witness'd my promise, "never to be thine."

(Pointing to the altar.)

Should I approach yon awful shrine, that sword, Some Angel's vengeful arm would raise to strike me, For breaking thus my Oath to thy stern Father.

CAMPESTRAN,

(Going to the altar, takes down the magnificent Sword which hangs at the front of the altar, under the luminous cross).

This Sword I had reserv'd for great Huniades; Rome's holy Pontiff sent it forth to arm Our Chief, in the Crusade, against curs'd Mahomet. Now, champion of our cause, I hail Corvinus.

CORVINUS

(taking the sword).

The sacred pledge with reverence I receive, And I will wield it with no common zeal;

Oh, may supernal power my arm invigorate, And be our cause invincible, as holy!

CAMPESTRAN

(to the Princess).

Let us this altar quit, since it excites Thy fears. My chapel, through the dormitory, Is more retir'd. We might be here surpriz'd. Speed to reward this hero with thy hand; And from a lawless tyrant save thyself. Hither return; nor sanctuary quit Except with us. Here let the Council find thee.

PRINCESS.

Must I be left to meet my Uncle's rage?

CAMPESTRAN.

This altar, from his violence, protects thee; Here then remain; and, when the dastard nobles To yield thee come, declare thou art espous'd: Acknowledge, if occasion call, to whom Thy hand is given. War's various toils demand Elsewhere our presence. Corvinus and myself Must to the troops declare his happy fortune. The soldiers love, they idolize Corvinus: Their joy the echoing people soon will catch, And make their own; they will applaud thy choice.

PRINCESS.

I dread the event; the people are against me.

CORVINUS.

Dismiss thy fears, the people still adore thee, E'en whilst their terrour to desert thee leads them: All will be well, I shall return triumphant To guard my Princess, and my charming Bride.

(Campestran goes through the altar door by which he entered; Corvinus follows h••m leading the Princess.)

End of the Second Act.

Act Third.

SCENE FIRST—THE CHURCH.

PRINCESS

(entering the Church).

OH! let the terrour, which compell'd my perjury, Plead for its pardon!—Heaven! I fear thy wrath; No longer pure of heart, my sweet affiance, In thy love, fled with my innocence and truth. Thy Mercy is Omnipotent,—but Justice too Is thy dread Attribute—Imploring pardon, Dare I to hope protection in my guiltiness? Hope, Mercy ne'er recorded my rash Oath.

SCENE SECOND.

THE PRINCESS, COUNT CILLEY, MICHAEL ZILUGO, & THE LORDS OF THE COUNCIL.

The Governor Michael Zilugo, and the Lords of the Council, in their robes over their armour; their swords by their sides, ranged on the North side of the altar. Zilugo much nearer the altar than the other Lords; very attentive to all Count Cilley's movements.

COUNT CILLEY.

Princess! we hail Thee Empress of the East.

PRINCESS.

I never will accept that hated title.

COUNT CILLEY.

The People, Council, and I, Princess! will it: And your reluctance to our power must yield.

PRINCESS.

Nor you, nor they, my Lord! shall thus enslave me.

(She kneels on the footstool of the altar, her right arm extended on the altar table.)

This sacred altar shall protect me from you.

COUNT CILLEY

(aside).

'Tis to my wish. Now let the whirlwind rise; I can direct the storm, and point its rage.

(Exit Count Cilley.)

SCENE THIRD.

THE PRINCESS, MICHAEL ZILUGO, LORDS OF THE COUNCIL.

PRINCESS

(with her right hand upon the altar).

I solemnly declare, I will not wed

(Rising and coming forward.)

The Turkish Sultan.—I disdain alliance

With a vile Infidel, a dark assassin Practis'd in death;—with one whose hands are stain'd With kindred blood;—by whom four Brothers fell. A wretch who knows no touch of nature's kindness; No tie of justice that binds man to man; Who e'en the sacred laws of Heaven defies, Scoffs at Religion* 1.5, and disowns all Faiths. Well is his want of truth and honour known; Yet, to the power of this inhuman Turk, The Christian Lords, and people of this realm, Betray their Princess, and resign themselves.

FIRST LORD.

To save our wives and children, we implore her—

PRINCESS.

By you, they should be sav'd, and I protected. The man who will not risk his life to save His wife, his children, and his native land, Has lost great Nature's first, best energies; A patriot's valour, and a parent's love. And have ye lost them then, beyond redemption? O, dead to shame! who thus unblushing force Imperial Albert's Daughter to an altar,

(She retreats back a step, and kneels at the altar as before.)

As her last refuge; force her to oppose

Subjects, disloyal, recreant, and unmanly, In their base tameness to desert her cause.

FIRST LORD.

Princess! we grieve to meet this stern rebuke: We have not merited in aught thy anger. Complete are all the Sultan's preparations To storm Belgrade. His batteries are rais'd, And ordnance, of enormous size, are mounted Against our walls; of such tremendous force, As, to their deep foundations, will destroy them. The people wild, tumultuous, fierce, from terrour, The sacking of the City dread to madness. You are their hope; for you alone can save them. This night, unless with their Ambassadors You will return, the Turks will storm our works; And, if you should refuse, I fear the citizens, By force, will yield YOU up, to save themselves.

PRINCESS

(rising, very indignantly).

Am I your slave by Charter, that ye threat me. Are ye so much dismay'd, that ye forget, How from before Belgrade, Huniades Drove haughty Amurath? Is this young Sultan. Less vincible than was his veteran Sire? His Father's conqueror comes to vanquish him, Huniades is come. Peers! will ye sell Your Princess in his sight? He now des••…••… This Mahomet's fleet; its close blockade 〈◊…〉〈◊…〉

And comes triumphant, to our gates, to save us. I trust in Heaven ye soon shall see these Infidels Flying before him, as the heartless wren Before the towering eagle. Let them but hear His Name:—from rank to rank, wild rout, and flight, And terrour, spoil the harvest of his sword. Countless the times the Turks have fled before him. Trust to his feats in arms, so great, so swift, That ere the echo of one victory ceases, Fame's oft-swell'd trump proclaims another conquest.

FIRST LORD.

No longer have we hope in great Huniades. His Fleet is now in flames, and all is lost.

PRINCESS

(with surprise and agitation).

Heavens! did I hear thee right? The Fleet in flames? Where is Huniades?

(To Zilugo.)

ZILUGO.

Slain, say the Turks; As sword in hand, first in the fight, he leap'd Upon the deck of their great Admiral.

PRINCESS.

Alas! my more than Parent! other griefs Defraud thee of thy due. O sainted spirit! Look down, forgive me, pity my distress!

SCENE FOURTH.

THE PRINCESS, MICHAEL ZILUGO, THE LORDS OF THE COUNCIL.

A numerous crowd of People and Soldiers, COUNT CILLEY in the midst of them, burst open the great doors of the Church in the side scene, on the Sou••h side of the altar. The Princess, on this alarm, aga•••• kneels, and extends her right arm upon the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 table.

PRINCESS

(with terrour and distress).

Oh! can I hope to find this Altar sacred, When I myself have daringly profan'd it? Why are ye thus tumultuously assembled? And, with licentious disrespect, how dare ye, With force profane, pollute this Sanctuary?

OLD OFFICER

(amongst the foremost of the people).

To supplicate our Princess to redeem us, To beg her mercy, in this hour of woe.

PRINCESS

(with extreme anguish rising).

Oh! would to Heaven that I had power to save you!

OLD OFFICER.

O Princess! You, and You alone, can save us. Your godlike Father's, and your Grandfire's, battles I've toil'd to win, in many a hard-fought field:

But never saw I such unequal war, As threats us now.

PRINCESS.

The valour of our troops, So oft victorious, shall conquer still.

OLD OFFICER.

Bootless is valour 'gainst unnumber'd legions; Our succours are cut off, our Regent lost. Soon must the Turk be master of our walls. Think of this city sack'd, given up a prey To cruel, lustful, soldiers, drunk with victory— Nothing but Hell, with all its Fiends unchain'd, Can be so dreadful. The old man's groan, half-butcher'd, Dragg'd by the hair, from out the victor's path; The infant's plaintive cry, and the shrill shriek Of helpless virgins, then must strike your ear: Such scenes of carnage meet your eyes, as nature Shudders to view: dire miseries, unknown, Save, where stern War fixes his iron seat.

PRINCESS.

Fight, gracious Heaven! our cause.

OLD OFFICER.

Agmunda! Heaven Vouchsafes to you alone, the power to save us. Could all our lives redeem you from this marriage,

Freely each Youth, each Veteran, would bleed. But, from the Sultan's power, they cannot save you: And if they cannot save, why should they fall? Will thy own woes be less, if thousands share them? Belgrade in flames, a People massacred, A Kingdom lost, would these be consolations? 'Tis not in us to mitigate thy fate; Then nobly bear it, shield us from destruction. Ransom the Throne of thy renown'd Forefathers: Ransom our matrons, virgins, helpless infants: Ransom thy native Land from desolation!

PRINCESS.

Can life that ransom pay? I will consent To suffer any death; unmov'd will meet it, With patient firmness, and my blood pour forth, A free libation, in your heartfelt cause. I love my Father's and my Brother's Subjects; And I should glory in that Death which saves them:

(In a lowered voice, with fear and horrour.)

But—I can never wed this savage Infidel.

COUNT CILLEY.

Inhuman Princess! wilt thou then decree Half our brave citizens to death? the rest, To be driven forth, to distant lands, and sold For slaves?

PRINCESS.

Seek not to aggravate my fate: I am most wretched.

COUNT CILLEY

(pointing to the people).

Think! what then are these, Who supplicate thy mercy? View thy victims. This City, for three days, thou doom'st to pillage, To rapine, fire, and the destructive sword; For such are Mahomet's compacts with his soldiers.

(Pointing to the Nobles.)

Turn here, and view the fourth day's sacrifice. For Mahomet then Belgrade in triumph enters, To take his Spoil; when to a bloody banquet, In chains, these Nobles, with their wives and children. Before the insulting Victor will be dragg'd; And there, with barbarous taunts, midst revelling And minstrelsy, will be, with study'd cruelty, Mangled, and slain, to crown the savage feast. Constantinople thus, this Sultan enter'd; Nor spar'd the Imperial Race of Constantine,— They, at his first infernal banquet bled; And, at succeeding feasts, the Grecian Nobles Were slaughter'd, in cold blood,—nor found a grave.

FIRST LORD.

'Tis from no common fate we beg redemption. When such a peerless Victim we must yield. Peace, on such terms, brings tears, and mourning with it. And not rejoicing. Thy great soul, Agmunda! Is equal to this godlike deed of mercy; To wed this Tyrant, and redeem a people. Be greatly worthy of thy royal race,

Be more than thy Imperial Fathers were, O! be the Guardian Genius of thy Country! Save, with Belgrade, the whole Hungarian Realm: If once the Turk be master of this City, Hungaria is no more. Then, Princess, save us!

(When the first Lord has done speaking, the people kneel. The Lords of the Council, their hands crossed on their breasts, bend forward, with supplicating solemnity.—a pause.)

PRINCESS

(with a voice half-suppressed by tears).

O! rise.—My soul feels all your woes. The fate Which threatens you, freezes my heart with horrour. Oh! were but this my funeral hour; and all Your tears for me alone.

(Falters)

I plead for mercy; I claim protection from this holy Altar.

(Kneels at the altar as before.)

O People! do not violate its sanctity!

(Weeping)

Give me not up by force to this destroyer!

OLD OFFICER.

Have royal tears more power to melt than ours? Or is not pity, in a princely breast, Assailable by common woes? We plead For thousands, you reject our supplications. And were we, hard of heart, to think of force, You clasp an altar, and prevent the deed. At thought of sacrilege we tremble, Princess! But when fierce Mahomet comes, then can no church Protect; no holy altar guard; no tears.

Though Saints should shed them, save you from his power. Since you must suffer, doom not thousands with you.

PRINCESS.

'Twould be an action, worthy of my Race, To prop a tottering Throne, redeem a People, Myself the sole, sad, victim of misfortune.

(Pauses from terrour almost breathless.)

This glorious sacrifice—I cannot make. Alas! devoted People! 'tis too late;—

(Wringing her hands and weeping.)

I am a Wife.

(The People retreat a few steps back, as terrified, making a confused noise of sorrow.)

OLD OFFICER.

Then we are lost indeed! Our succours are cut off, our Regent fallen, Our King is fled, our Princess too deserts us. Let us return to our sad homes. Not long They will be ours: for desolation comes.

COUNT CILLEY.

Remain! I am your friend; and I will save you. O'er your misfortunes, People! my heart weeps: Though by your King abandon'd, I'll protect you.

(To the Princess, with contemptuous rage, who rises.)

Whose Wife art thou? What wretch has dar'd accept Thy hand? Him instant death awaits for treason;

And thou deserv'st no less. Who has betray'd us?

PRINCESS

(with a resolute voice).

Myself.

COUNT CILLEY.

Who is thy paramour? Declare!

PRINCESS.

I will not answer this licentious mode Of disrespectful speech.

COUNT CILLEY.

But thou shalt answer it. Hast thou so vilely cast thyself away, Hast thou so low descended, that thou blushest To own thy choice, before this injur'd People?

PRINCESS

(with great dignity and firmness.)

A Hero, from his cradle, known to fame, His country's honour, and her best support; Pride of her councils, victor in her wars; The soul of justice, and the arm of power; Him, has my heart selected for its lord; Him, do I glory to esteem, and love; To him, intrust this People, and Myself,— He can protect their rights, and guard his own.

COUNT CILLEY.

My friends! ye shall have retribution still

The voice of Justice bids you right yourselves.

(Pointing to the Princess. Zilugo half draws his sword.)

That woman seize; unless she now declare What wretch is rais'd to trample on your necks; That ye may piece-meal scatter his vile limbs: Then she, to Mahomet, shall your ransom be. Speak! for that shrine shall not protect thee, silent. Perhaps thy coward Brother, who is fled, Clings to some altar too. The King who can Desert his throne, from all allegiance frees The People; he dissolves their compact with him; And they may choose a King whose heart can feel Their woes, whose arm can succour their distress, Who, in their utmost need, will not desert them.

SOME OF THE PEOPLE.

Let Ulrick be our King!

ZILUGO

(with anger, to the People).

We have a King. He who bereaves his Crown, shall feel my justice:

(The Lords half draw their swords, as approv|ing what Zilugo says.)

My sword shall strike him, though he were Count Cilley, Hemm'd in by thousands, singly I'd oppose him.

SOME OF THE PEOPLE.

Our King deserts us.

COUNT CILLEY

(to the People).

I will save you still. Assert yourselves, and all your foes shall tremble.

(To the Princess.)

Speak, I command thee! and declare thy partner In this complotted treason, which demands A punishment condign on thee, and him.

PRINCESS.

Art thou, Count Cilley? Surely some base impostor, Beneath his name, thus loudly bawls sedition, Excites revolt, and tempts to foulest murder. You whom the States chose Guardian to their King, Because his Uncle, have their choice dishonour'd. They hop'd to train a tender vine around A healthy parent elm: but, when the tendrils Of the young plant shoot curling up to climb, They clasp a wither'd branch, which, treacherous snapping, Yields no support, but lets it fall to ruin. Now, when my Brother wants your aid and counsel, When I might have found comfort from your friend|ship, Oh! you forsake, defame, and plot against us. False to your trust, rebellious to your Prince, To your own blood a traitor, I disclaim you. O'er me, my Lord! henceforth▪ you have no power.

COUNT CILLEY.

I'll shew thee that I have, and courage too,

To execute a speedy vengeance on thee. Speak! give thy vile seducer to our wrath, Or with that Sword, which Rome's great Pontiff sent, To guard our cause, I'll sacrifice thee here, As excommunicate, as one unhallow'd, To whom an Altar's sanctity extends not.

(Count Cilley advances to the step of the plat|form. Zilugo draws his sword, advances up the step, and stands before the altar table. The Lords of the Council draw their swords.)

ZILUGO.

Ulrick! that Sword is here in trust: 'tis sacrilege To seize it.

PRINCESS.

That sacred Sword my Husband wears; And your ambitious hand shall never grasp it. You are my Brother's Subject. In his absence, If you rebel, and prove disloyal to him, Know that in ME resides my Father's spirit; Call'd forth, it shall invigorate my soul; And Albert's fearless Daughter shall protect His infant Son, whilst she has life, or friend, Upon the throne of his Imperial Fathers. Your house was honour'd by their high alliance: But when my Grandsire wedded with your Sister, You were Count Cilley still: no royal blood Flows in your veins to give a right to Empire.

(To the People.)

My friends! this is no time for civil broils: Concord and union are the arms of safety.

(Pointing to her Uncle.)

You are my hope 'gainst this unnatural foe; O! be yourselves the Guardians of your Princes. We are the last of our Imperial Race; Protect the offspring of your ancient Kings: Let each brave man think Albert's Son his own, Then feel how sacred is his Monarch's cause.

COUNT CILLEY

(to the People).

Has not your coward Monarch left his throne, At rumour only of the Turks' invasion? Will you, brave Men, support a dastard Prince, Who flies to prison, rather than share your danger?

PRINCESS.

Malicious slanderer! 'Tis true, O citizens! Your King is fled. His Uncle, and his Guardian, Should, telling this, have told his tender Youth: Fear is the state of childhood, not its crime. Your Monarch, by his future deeds of fame, Shall gloriously retrieve this childish flight; Efface from memory's record this stain, And emulate the Race from which he springs. People and Peers! be guardians of his Throne, As ye would wish your children should, in peace, Possess their just hereditary rights. If I have done aught criminal against you,

I ask to suffer singly, in myself; Your victim immolate,—or guard your Princess. Trusting to find you just, I quit all Sanctuary, Fly to your arms, confiding in your faith.

(She flies amongst the people, who in part sur|round her, at a little distance.)

OLD OFFICER.

We'll fight your cause. We'll die or suffer with you.

(Kneeling.)

Princess! for all, I swear allegiance to you: We trust your heart has made a worthy choice.

PRINCESS.

The Regent's Son, Corvinus, is my Husband.

COUNT CILLEY

(aiming his sword at her).

Traitress! my tardy justice finds thee. Die.

(The Old Officer throws himself before the Prin|cess, and seizes Count Cilley's arm uplifted to strike, and holds it suspended. Zilugo and the Lords of the Council advance with drawn swords; Zilugo foremost, who takes Count Cilley's sword from his hand.)

PRINCESS.

Spare, spare my Uncle; I command you, friends! Restore his sword.

(Zilugo gives back the sword.)

Cruel, insidious Uncle! Retire!—Reflect! that treason, and foul murder,

Are such deep crimes, as with confusion load Even the time-honour'd head of age with shame.

COUNT CILLEY.

Traitress! may she be curs'd. Oh! may'st thou keep Thy faith with this mean slave, this wretch Corvinus, As to his Father thou hast kept thy Oath.

(Exit in a rage.)

SCENE FOURTH.

THE PRINCESS, MICHAEL ZILUGO, THE LORDS OF THE COUNCIL, PEOPLE.

ZILUGO

(to the Princess).

We glory in your choice. And had we not A lawful Prince, all here, I know, would think Corvinus worthy of Hungaria's throne.

OLD OFFICER

(to the Council).

My Lords! we ask Corvinus for our Regent; For him we will submit to war's dread hazard: We'll fight like lions for our brave young Chief, And trust some miracle from Heaven shall save us.

ZILUGO.

May favouring Heaven now grant its servants aid▪

(To the People.)

Retire, my friends! in peace, each to his duty; Exhort your fellow citizens to theirs.

(The crowd retires.)

Princess! we go the Ambassadors to answer: Soon we'll return, and place you in the Castle. This quarter of the City is unsafe, Your Uncle's troops command it; much I fear, That his mad rage, bent on revenge and power, Will to some act of desperation tempt him.

(The Princess returns to the altar; the Gover|nor and Council go out: the scene closes.)

End of the Third Act.

Act Fourth.

SCENE FIRST—THE TENT OF MAHOMET.

A magnificent Tent, occupying the greatest part of the stage, in width; its form circular. The outer tent forming a hall of audience. Two doors, at the back of the tent, conducting to the interior part of it. In the middle, between the two doors, a splendid Throne, with a canopy over it; the drapery of the canopy hanging from a large crescent, representing gems. At each side of the tent, near the front, a rich sofa. The side scenes about the tent trees. The scene behind the tent the Turkish Camp; a crescent on the top of each tent.

The scene drawing discovers Mustapha, seated on one of the sofas. An Aga enters the tent, holding his right hand motionless on his breast, according to the Turkish manner of salutation.

AGA.

CHUSANES waits without.

MUSTAPHA.

Conduct him hither.

Exit Aga.

SCENE SECOND.

MUSTAPHA, CHUSANES.

CHUSANES.

Impatient of my messenger's delay, I come before he brings me leave of audience.

MUSTAPHA.

You will not gain it yet; for disappointment, Rage, and revenge, possess the Sultan's soul By turns. His pride is wounded at the thought Of that disgrace, his fame will now sustain, Unless Belgrade should fall, by storm, or stratagem. Now, whilst he vents his rage, he will not see you.

CHUSANES.

My orders from his Highness are imperfect: And, I suspect, the business of this night Teems with no common danger to our arms. Why does he now negotiate for this Princess?

MUSTAPHA.

If she be gain'd, these Christian Dogs will rest Secure of peace: and, when they find our Fleet Was burnt, but to molest Huniades, They will impute this marriage to our fears. They will exult: but when in midnight wine, Supine they're drown'd, and unprepar'd to meet us,

Then shall we thunder, at their half-arm'd walls, With all our mighty war: at once assault, And level, their high towers, ere they have time To weep their falling.

CHUSANES.

Should they this intent Suspect, and much I fear they will, we're caught In our own toils. This policy may fail, They may refuse the Princess to our Sultan. Then great advantage does this parley give them. Ere we can storm, Huniades may land; Though half our host is gone to stop this Christian. But what are legions 'gainst this favour'd mortal? Whose prophet sends him signs, and prodigies* 1.6, To affright and terrify the stoutest hearts. Our soldiers tremble at his hated Voice: 'Tis as the blast of Israfel's † 1.7 dread Trump, To their astonish'd ears: They fly before him, With the same fatal speed, as will the accursed, Over the sword-edg'd Sirat †, when fallen Eblis † Despairing drives them. Our selected men, Even the Oglani, I beheld at Vascape Desert our mighty Prophet's holy standard, By Christian hands defil'd, led on to havock By fierce Huniades; who, o'er fourscore thousand,

Of the brave Faithful, there exulting triumph'd; And with a puny army, far less numerous Than our great Sultan's train* 1.8, when in the field, To unbend his mind, he takes his hunting sport.

MUSTAPHA.

Victorious Mahomet now leads the Faithful. Shall this Belgrade resist that mighty arm, Which raz'd Imperial Constantine's proud towers?

CHUSANES.

Another destiny, now frowning, threats us. Our Fleet was burnt but to prevent its capture; And, if the Christians, thinking it their fleet, Should yield to peace, our standard from their towers May wave; yet if our terms should be refus'd, The event is doubtful; they can still defy us. What 'vantage, by a month's blockade, is gain'd? If, at this time, they knew but their own strength, What shall we gain? The Christian Dervis aids them: Corvinus too, that Son of fierce Huniades, In strength, and years, our youthful Sultan's peer, Is in Belgrade: his fame and courage equal His veteran Sire's.—What hope of conquest then

O'er Men whom, singly, we have found invincible? Their valour claims that victory, which Heaven To them predestinates. In vain we strive; We cannot stem the tide, nor stand its force.— Will you not tell the Sultan, that his slave Waits for his further orders?

MUSTAPHA.

As my life I value, in his present mood, I dare not Venture, unsummon'd, to appear before him. "Let none approach me till Zoganus comes," Were his commands.

CHUSANES.

One, privileg'd like you, Might, in such exigence, dispense with orders, And disobey the injunctions passion gave. You are the only man who can control him.

MUSTAPHA.

I never dar'd but once * 1.9: nor dare I now. It were as safe to face the cannon's mouth, When its fierce blast sends forth pernicious deaths, As seek the Sultan in his ireful mood. Alas! his passions know no wholesome bounds. Nature has left her noblest work imperfect, In mighty Mahomet's splendid, savage soul.

SCENE THIRD.

MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, CHUSANES.

(Mahomet enters from the left hand door of the inner tent; Chusanes prostrates himself; Mustapha offers to retire.)

MAHOMET.

Mustapha, stay!

(To Chusanes.)

Rise, slave!

(To Mustapha.)

What, no Zoganus?— Is there no messenger?

MUSTAPHA.

Great Sultan, no!

MAHOMET.

Curse on his tardiness, and negligence, Which disappoint my hopes, and keep my soul In this suspense.

MUSTAPHA.

He doubtless waits to come In greater pomp, and bring the Princess forth In state, attended by her Lords and Chiefs.

MAHOMET.

Hah! say'st thou so.—Be they as princes feasted; Till night has thrown her starry mantle o'er Our warring hosts.

(To Chusanes.)

Then give them chains, not death. Belgrade shall be their ransom, they my hostages.

Soul of my Father Amurath! I swear, The affront thy arms sustain'd from this proud City, Thy Son shall see aveng'd. This fierce Huniades, Who drove thee hence, with shame, and fell defeat, Shall round thy tomb be dragg'd, a second Hector. Curse on his glory, it obscures my own. Though giant terrour's self stalks in my van, And bows the trembling Nations ere I strike; Yet he resists the conqueror of the East, Stops my career, and bids my fame stand still. By force, or stratagem, Belgrade shall yield, And suffer for this obstinate resistance; For all the pangs my wounded pride has felt, For all I still may feel, should dismal overthrow Disgrace my arms—I will not think it can; For if I do, I shall grow mad with rage.

MUSTAPHA.

If this strong City can be overthrown, You gain the Realm, of which it is the key. Surely they'll give their Princess to our Emperor?

MAHOMET.

But I must send, and sue, for this Agmunda; I, who had will'd, amidst the smoking ruins Of proud Belgrade, as royal spoil, to seize her. I fear these Christian Dogs are not deceiv'd, And that they know the blazing fleet is mine. But yet, Belgrade! thy towers shall kiss the ground.

MUSTAPHA.

All that men dare attempt, your troops will do; Inspir'd, and aided, by your great example.

MAHOMET.

Chusanes, have our orders been obey'd; And does each Chieftain know his post of honour? Is all in readiness to storm the City?

CHUSANES.

All that the mighty Sultan has commanded; And his Slave waits to know his further orders.

MAHOMET.

Let fires throughout the camp, ready for midnight, Be prepar'd. Plant the ordnance 'gainst the postern, North of the Eastern tower; for there I deem The wall is most assailable. Let Tura Lead on the main assault; and his worst troops First climb the scaling ladders. To the left, Let Isa Beg lead on the Tartar slaves. To the command of that brave veteran, Cali, Appoint five thousand chosen Janizaries, To back the assault, and drive the caitiffs on. He dies, who turns his back, or breaks the ranks.

CHUSANES.

What is the signal for our troops to leave The outer camp?

MAHOMET.

The word be "Mahomet," Let all, in silence, march without the lines; And then, from host to host, the word be "Amurath," And instant let the cover'd fires blaze forth, To light them to their fame. To-morrow, tell them, Ere the Sun gilds the East, their conquering Sultan, Bearing the holy Prophet's sacred standard, Will view their glorious deeds, and aid their prowess. Should any dire mishap o'ertake our purpose, Let "Duma" be the word to spread the alarm. Within yon Grove, see my rear-guard be posted. Be my ten thousand troops all night in arms; That, if aught intervene, before day dawns, Worthy my Sword, all may be ready for me.

CHUSANES.

Say, what reward shall victory bring the Faithful?

MAHOMET.

Three days I give the Town to their sole pillage: With power of life and death o'er ev'ry citizen: And to each Captain, choice of twenty slaves, Amongst their Merchants. But their Princely Nobles, For me, and my Bashaws, must be reserv'd. Now send a summons, to the City walls, To know, why our Ambassadors are thus Detain'd?

(Chusanes goes out, and instantly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 as meeting Zoganus; he conducts him in, and then retires▪)

SCENE FOURTH.

MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, ZOGANUS.

ZOGANUS

(prostrating himself).

Great Sultan!

MAHOMET

(signing to him to rise).

Instant give your tidings! Did the Foe think the burning Fleet was theirs?

ZOGANUS.

They did, dread Sultan! and such consternation, As their looks shew'd, I never saw before. The Governor receiv'd your gracious message With much dislike; though he oppos'd, the Council Acceded to your terms: Count Cilley sway'd them. They went▪ in form, to bring the Princess to us. Long time we waited in the audience-hall. Back came Count Cilley: passion shook his frame, Aside he took me: "We're betray'd," said he; "Take your dismission peaceably, retire.— "When your first troops have reach'd the City gate "Halt, and expect your just revenge from me. "Let that commend me to your Sultan's friendship."

MAHOMET.

Dispatch—What means this many-worded mystery?

ZOGANUS.

Then came the Council, and with thanks dismiss'd us. The Princess had just own'd herself the Wife Of bold Corvinus.—

MAHOMET

(in a rage).

How! said'st thou his Wife? Corvinus' Wife? This Father and this Son Cast a more deadly shade upon my glory, Than curs'd Al Zackum* 1.10 on Hell's barren plain.

ZOGANUS.

Sultan! you triumph over both—

MAHOMET

(half drawing his sabre).

Peace, Slave! On thy life, say not I triumph! In love, Revenge, and glory, they impede my course. But for their swords, my conquests had outstripp'd The victories of mighty Alexander† 1.11: Ere at his age arriv'd, the world had own'd Me for its Lord supreme; for like young Ammon, The world alone can bound my daring views: But these Hungarian Chiefs arrest my speed;

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Else, like the first, intrepid, godlike Caesar, Mahomet too had come, and seen, and conquer'd; Swifter than Fame, had she ten thousand tongues, Could speak his deeds. The haughty Eastern Empire In ruin lies beneath my feet: I'll reap Like harvest in the West. Immortal Caesar! In thy Imperial Rome I will be crown'd * 1.12: I'll plant the Crescent, where thy Eagles soar'd, And conquer Worlds to rule upon thy Throne.

ZOGANUS.

O, mighty Sultan! wilt thou hear thy Slave?

MAHOMET.

Yes; if thou canst but make me know I triumph O'er these aspiring Men. Gods! that such Heroes, Worthy to cope with Me, and cross my fortune, Should fight for a boy King, a coward boy!— If they be fallen, then speak; if not, away! Away! for my chafed soul is rous'd, and thirsts To wreak its vengeance. Speak! say! If I triumph O'er these destructive foes? And if I do,

(Strikes his forehead)

By heaven, I grieve—There's not a Hero left, Worthy to meet my prowess in the field, If these be overthrown† 1.13.

ZOGANUS.

Hear first my tale; Then, Sultan! of your triumph judge.

MAHOMET.

Proceed.—

ZOGANUS.

We halted at the city gate. A man Of noble port advanc'd. "Count Cilley sends me; Follow."—We did; and to a Temple, close Bordering upon the inner rampart wall, He led us. Kneeling, at an Altar there, Alone, we saw a beauteous, female form. "That," said the stranger, "is Count Cilley's gift "To Mahomet. That is his Niece, the Princess."

MAHOMET

(drawing his sabre).

Is she my conquest, Slave? Else, by this sword, Thou art but dust.

(Zoganus terrified kneels.)

ZOGANUS.

Dread Emperor! she is:

(Mahomet, with his sabre, motioning to him to rise, he rises.)

Weeping, and trembling, hither she approaches. When our whole train had pass'd the city gate, Corvinus fell upon our rear. I left The skirmish to the conduct of Mesetes; Whilst I, with your fair prize, the trenches gain'd.

Corvinus still maintains the fight; I saw His towering helmet glittering midst our troops.

MAHOMET

(to Mustapha).

Mesetes may want aid: see to the field.

Exit Mustapha.

Enter an Aga.

AGA

(to Zoganus).

Abdalla sends to say, the female prisoner Waits at the outside of his Highness' guard.

MAHOMET.

Bid him conduct her to our presence instantly.

(Exit Aga.)

Thou hast thy master's thanks for this good service.

(Exit Zoganus.)

SCENE FIFTH.

MAHOMET, THE PRINCESS.

(The Aga conducting the Princess; a Guard enters with her; an untwisted turban covering her face as a veil: the Aga takes it off, and then retires.)

MAHOMET

(as the veil is taking off the Princess).

This is a prize well worth a kingdom's contest!

PRINCESS.

Prince! I thy justice claim. The faith of Nations Is, by thy treacherous servants, violated. A Truce protected them; but they profan'd Its sanctity; and from an Altar tore me. Redress this wrong; give me safe conduct back.

MAHOMET.

Princess! I would forego my throne, my life, Sooner than part with her, whose charms would add Splendour to Empire, Paradise to earth. My faithful servants' zeal deserves my praise; I sent them for thee; sent them for my Bride.

PRINCESS.

Thy Bride! Alas! thou know'st not, Prince, the wrong I have sustain'd; I'm torn from all my soul Esteems; from all my anguish'd heart holds dear; Torn, from each social bliss, from life, from joy, From honour, from the Husband of my love. Restore me then, to all these sacred ties, By thy own Christian Mother* 1.14, I conjure thee!

MAHOMET.

No ties exist which can withstand my claims. What Husband, Princess! That mean slave, Corvinus, Shall not exult in such a beauteous Wife,

Radiant with youth, and love's attractive grace; More fair than are the Daughters of our Paradise: Worthy to share in Mahomet's soft retirement, When war relaxes his stern brow, and gives An interval of peace, to taste repose: Then will he joyful wear Agmunda's chains; And own, no other Deity, but Love. Oh, to possess thy heart! that when I come From conquest, thou may'st fly to meet me, chide My thirst for fame, yet glory in my laurels: Then tell me, how thou hadst thought, lov'd, dreamt of me.— I hail thee, charming Princess! my Sultana; Sweet partner of my Imperial bed and throne; For, by the Soul of my great Father Amurath, By this good Sword, I swear* 1.15 ne'er to resign—

(During the greatest part of this speech, the Princess seems absorbed in deep thought, and solemn grief; her eyes bent on the ground. When Ma|homet says, "ne'er to resign—" with a sudden burst of anguish and terrour, as of one awaked in a fright, she throws herself at the Sultan's feet.)

PRINCESS.

End not thy oath, I solemnly adjure thee!

MAHOMET

(offering to raise her, she rises).

'Tis sworn already, I cannot resign thee; For by my Father's Soul the Oath was sworn, And 'tis so sacred, did our Prophet live, Not he himself could with the Vow dispense. Thou shalt exult in Mahomet's ardent love, Thy every wish prevented, thy whole life One splendid feast of sumptuous delight.

PRINCESS.

Since the sole benefit I could accept, Thou dost refuse; know, in the whole, wide range, Of all thy power, thou hast nought left to give, Worthy Agmunda's thanks, except a grave.

MAHOMET.

No, beauteous Scorner! no; a tomb ill suits Thy youth. Whole ages of delight await us; Thou my Sultana, I thy humble Slave.

PRINCESS.

I am the Wife of an illustrious Hero: My hand and heart are to Corvinus given. Respect the sacred tie of nuptial Faith.

MAHOMET.

Fate has dissolv'd it. For you are my Slave.

Taken in war. When you refus'd my nuptials, The truce was void. Fate has decreed you mine.

PRINCESS.

My Faith is pledg'd. I never can be yours. Your prophet, Sultan! has forbidden marriage With one who is a wife.—Revere his law.

MAHOMET.

With a free woman, marriage is forbidden. But my bond Slave* 1.16, although her Husband live, I by my Law may wed.

PRINCESS.

Or Slave, or free, I am Corvinus' Wife. Marriage with thee, E'en if I were thy Slave, my Law would punish.

MAHOMET.

Renounce thy Christian Worship;—own our Prophet.

PRINCESS,

(Regarding Mahomet for a moment with haughtiness and contempt).

Forsake my everlasting Hope!—For what? The privilege to quit a noble Husband, Whom I adore for his unblemish'd honour,

A gallant Youth who is his Country's bulwark? Forsake my GOD! that I may wed a Tyrant, Whom my soul spurns at, and my heart abhors!

MAHOMET.

What's thy resistance, to a Monarch's power? Thy scorn may, to resentment, turn my love. Thou hast forgotten then, that I am Mahomet? Whose frown annihilates the wretch it lights on; Whose least displeasure is such certain Death, The stoutest Warrior trembles to excite it.

PRINCESS,

(With a swiftness, as if some sudden illumination of thought at that instant struck her).

I, with unspeakable contempt, behold it. Scoff at this dreaded tyrant, who could send Thousands of slaves, beneath a lying embassy, To seize one Woman. Heavens! Art thou a Prince? Where, is the honour, that should grace thy rank, And give its brightest splendour to a throne? Thou base, dishonourable, treacherous, coward!

MAHOMET,

(Half drawing his sabre, but sheathing it as he speaks).

Audacious Fair! that coward's power can crush thee; Make thy proud soul, with fear, shrink shuddering, And, prostrate in the dust, implore his mercy.

PRINCESS.

Derision, and not fear, thy taunts inspire.

Dismay and terrour, come they at thy beck? Behold! a Woman braves, a woman scorns thee. Her Soul superiour, lords it o'er thy Spirit; Which aw'd, and cow'ring, droops before its greater. Thou, Mahomet! Thou! appall'd shrink'st shudd'ring,

(Mahomet lays his hand on his sabre.)

Before a Christian foe, before thy Captive.— The Daughter of that sceptred Ancestry, The constant scourge of thy barbarian Race, Protected by thy fear, defies thy sword; Disdains thy mercy; she would shew thee none: The axe of Justice on thy neck should fall, And rid mankind of Thee! their dire disgrace. Know, trembling coward! that I fear thee not. Thou dar'st not take my life.

(Mahomet in a rage draws his sabre, having kept his hand upon it during the latter part of this speech, advancing to strike the Princess, she ad|vances.)

MAHOMET,

(Turning away, and dropping the point of his sabre, leans upon it).

I will not kill her.

(The instant that the Princess perceives that he will not kill her, she retreats from him.)

PRINCESS.

Tyrant! art thou in abjectness, so sunk, That thou hast not one generous vice? Hast thou

No manly rage 'gainst an insulting enemy? Rouse thee to anger, Prince! Do not, when scoff'd, And coward call'd, forego a signal vengeance. Wreak thy revenge against an insolent foe, Who lives, but to revile thee.

MAHOMET.

At thy call, I wake to rage, resentment, and revenge. Soon I'll repay thee this vindictive scorn. I see thy drift, Agmunda! Thou would'st die, And me, the instrument of death, would make. Thou bidd'st me vengeance take,—and I will take it.

(Sheaths his sabre. Terrour takes possession of the Princess's countenance for an instant.)

For thou shalt live. I'll seize by force, proud Woman! Those charms which vainly I have stoop'd to sue for.

(Mahomet advances to seize her; she draws the Dagger from her bosom that Corvinus had given her as the pledge of his loyalty to her Brother. Retreating as she speaks, holding the Dagger fast clenched in her hand, in readiness to strike it into her bosom. Mahomet starts at seeing it, and, perceiving her intention to stab herself, does not advance.)

PRINCESS

(with a resolute, solemn voice).

This Dagger guards my Husband's honour, Sultan. If thou approach, I strike it to my heart. Death from dishonour saves me, and from thee.

(Mahomet advances a step, she extends her hand to strike, he retires.)

Prince! I dare pay that awful debt to Virtue, Which I to Nature owe. And I will die, On the most slight suspicion of Dishonour: The moment that alarms my wakeful fears, Remember—is my last.

MAHOMET,

(Striving to restrain his rage, and disappointment).

To save thy life, I promise, that thy honour shall be safe.

PRINCESS.

Sultan! I thank thee. O! relent, and make The life thou deign'st to save, a blessing to me. Redeem thy honour, and retrieve thy glory; Win, by thy noble conduct, my esteem; Yet, yet, be just; permit me to depart!

MAHOMET

(with gloomy haughtiness).

Unless thou wilt, this hour, consent to wed me. Thou art MY Slave no longer.

PRINCESS

(with joy and exultation).

Unbounded gratitude, My heart repays thee, noble, generous, Sultan! May joy, like mine, irradiate ev'ry gloom, That dark despair upon thy mind may cast.

MAHOMET

(fiercely).

Forbear thy thanks.—For since, imprudent Princess! Thou dar'st disdain my love, I here resign thee.— Thou art my Slave no longer—I bestow thee Upon the vilest Tartar in my camp: The prince thou scorn'st makes thee a reptile's slave.

(The Princess raising her dagger.)

(Mahomet hastily.)

Thy honour shall be safe—fifty brave Janizaries Shall be thy guard, to keep thee from all danger. In this, thy bondage, there is no dishonour. It is affliction only, such affliction—

(Looking at her with the most taunting scorn.)

As CHRISTIAN Slaves must patient bear, and live.

PRINCESS,

(With extreme anguish, looking up to Heaven).

This—is affliction's iron hand indeed. All gracious heaven! for my one, deep offence, Let this dire retribution make atonement. In mercy, guard me from my own despair; And give me fortitude to meet my fate!

(Panting with terrour, she supports herself by the drapery of the tent.)

MAHOMET.

Art thou then, obstinately bent, to brave me?

(With entreaty, mingled with admiration.)

Think of thy youth, the graces of thy form, Thy ev'ry elegance, thy winning charms.

Have pity on thyself! Doom not thy beauty, To a curs'd fate, that chills my heart with horrour. Wilt thou not deign to deprecate thy doom?

PRINCESS.

If there be aught of human in thy heart, Say, by what virtuous means I may awaken it.

SCENE SIXTH.

MAHOMET, THE PRINCESS, MUSTAPHA.

(Mustapha comes in sight on the same side on which the Princess stands; but does not enter the tent.)

MAHOMET.

Guards!

(They appear.)

To the inner tent con|duct the Princess: Let none presume, on pain of instant death, Her sacred person to approach uncall'd.

To the Princess.

This order may suffice, to hush thy fears. Retire, and let repose thy spirits calm. Have pity on thyself, nor seal thy doom.

PRINCESS

(retiring to the inner tent).

Sultan! reflect, nor force me to accept it.

(The Aga of the Guards opens the door of the inner tent on the right-hand side: the Guard

range themselves on the same side with the Sul|tan, so that the Princess may enter the tent without passing near them. When entered, the door of the tent closes; the Guards retire.)

SCENE SEVENTH.

MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA.

MUSTAPHA.

Sultan! the Christian Dervis is thy prisoner, And waits without. The Christians still maintain The fight, led by Corvinus.

MAHOMET.

Curse on his courage! Ten thousand sequins shall reward the man Who kills Corvinus. This proclaim. Return, And here, before the Princess, say he's slain: Or true, or false, I have a rich revenge: But add such circumstance, as may gain credence To what thou say'st.—

Exit Mustapha.

She must, she shall be mine. What an exalted soul Agmunda owns: My spirit never was so mated yet, Envy and admiration both contend. And love, and hate, alternate, swell my breast.

(To the Guards at the side scene.)

Conduct the Christian Dervis to our presence, He shall persuade the Princess.

SCENE EIGHTH.

MAHOMET, CAMPESTRAN

(in Chains).

MAHOMET.

Art thou Campestran?

CAMPESTRAN

(proudly).

I am.

MAHOMET.

Better it would become thy Prophet's Minister To preach of peace, than, clad in priestly vestments, The torch of Discord waving in thy hand, Thus to run madding, wild, from clime to clime, Leading enthusiasts to certain death; Battening our vultures with thy pious fools. Attend to heavenly cares; leave arms, and war, To Monarchs and to Heroes. Priest! I want A peaceful service from thee; reward awaits thee, If thou succeed.

CAMPESTRAN.

With Infidels I hold No fellowship. From me expect no service.

MAHOMET.

Thou art my Slave.

CAMPESTRAN.

The prisoner of thy arms, I know I am.

MAHOMET.

Thy life is in my hands.

CAMPESTRAN.

Take it; a Christian warrior fears not death; Nor looks for noble treatment from base Mahomet.

MAHOMET.

And dost thou know me, yet insult my power?

CAMPESTRAN.

Thy power, thou lawless Ravager! and Thee, My soul regards, as Heaven's afflicting scourge. Gaunt famine, pestilence, and spotted plague, And curs'd, imperial Plunderers, like thyself, Are but its instruments of wrath, to visit Bad men's impiety. Heaven's end obtain'd, Then are your waves of desolation stay'd; Ye shall not pass the bounds of its behests. Thy crimes accomplish'd, yet thou shalt not triumph. The partner, in thy ruffian treachery, Has paid the forfeit of His two-fold guilt; Zilugo's sword has punish'd Cilley's treason:

He dies, first victim to the injur'd Princess. Restore her then, and thus avert thy punishment.

MAHOMET.

Till thou canst rail the eagle to forsake Her sky-built aerie, for the wren's humble nest, Thou dost but lose thy pains to lesson me. Say, does thy Prophet's Law permit thee death, By thy own hands?

CAMPESTRAN.

No: it forbids all murder.

MAHOMET.

Instruct thy Princess better, in her duty; She dares uplift her hand against her life. Rail forth thy Law to her. For if she die By her own hand, thou shalt expire in torments.

(Mahomet goes to the door of the inner Tent, which is opened at his approach; the Princess seen sitting on a sofa, weeping.)

Princess! thy warrior Dervis is my slave; Here, I allow thee to hold converse with him.

(Campestran goes towards the inner Tent, the Prin|cess, seeing him, comes forward, the dagger in her hand.)

SCENE NINTH.

MAHOMET, THE PRINCESS, CAMPESTRAN.

PRINCESS.

O holy father! much I grieve to see thee! Exhaustless is, I fear, my cup of woe; And thousands, of the baleful draught, drink with me. Say, does my Hero live?

CAMPESTRAN.

Corvinus lives.

(The Princess looks up with thankfulness, to Heaven.)

Long by his side I fought: He still maintains The fight, with more than human strength. His arm The sword of Justice wields; 'tis Heav'n's own sword, And he, vicegerent of the wrath of Heaven, Exterminates, from earth, its scoffing foes. He will avenge the insult done to Thee, And to the Faith of Nations, by thy capture.

PRINCESS.

Thou God of battles! in a cause thus just, Raise thy strong arm and buckler on his side! Ye fainted Spirits of my royal Fathers, Implore the Throne of Mercy for this Hero, And save the guardian Genius of your Race!

SCENE TENTH.

MAHOMET, THE PRINCESS, CAMPESTRAN, MUSTAPHA.

(Mustapha enters, and lays the Sword and Casque of Corvinus at the feet of Mahomet.)

MUSTAPHA.

Our Prophet fights the mighty Sultan's cause.

MAHOMET.

Whose Sword and Casque are these?

MUSTAPHA.

They are the spoils Of fallen Corvinus— whom Mesetes slew.

PRINCESS.

Oh!—

(falls fainting into Campestran's arms.)

CAMPESTRAN,

(Supporting the Princess, and raising his eyes t•• Heaven).

O! send her strength proportion'd to her woes!

(The Princess recovering, looks earnestly at the Sword and Casque, and lifts the Dagger to kill herself: Campestran stays her hand, and con|tinues.)

Rely on Heaven! nor rashly shed thy blood:

For life, or death, are not in mortals' choice. Bow down thy soul with patience to this grief; And, as this separation wounds thy spirit, Let not thy rebel hand eternal make it, And lose the hope, in realms of bliss, to meet The worthy object of thy love on earth. Resign this Dagger.—

PRINCESS.

No: as 'twas Honour's pledge, It shall be Honour's guardian.

MAHOMET.

Princess! thy faith, According to thy Law, is disengag'd. Consent, that by thy Christian Rites, Campestran Shall now unite us.

PRINCESS.

Never, will I consent! Never! Corvinus! to thy Tomb I'm wedded!

(To the Sultan.)

O, let me see him! that the sight may end me! Then give us the same grave: And spare Belgrade; Her matrons, virgins, and her tender infants; And my last breath shall praise and bless thy mercy.

MAHOMET.

If thou wouldst have thy ardent prayers prevail, And save thy native City from my wrath, By all that's sacred, to a Christian's soul,

Thou first must swear, not to attempt thy life; And, in this very hour, be my Sultana: Or else, with fire and sword, this night, Belgrade Receives my troops; and sates my great revenge. To-morrow thou shalt see thy City delug'd With blood; her Nobles, in thy presence, slain. Thou shalt behold my hated foe, Corvinus, Piece-meal devour'd, by our fierce ravening dogs: No other sepulchre will Mahomet grant him.

CAMPESTRAN.

This godlike youth, shall he not find a grave?

MAHOMET.

Ask that obdurate Fair, who gives remorseless Her Husband's mangled corpse to vile dishonour, Her Country to the sword: it is her will. Corvinus was my foe; as such, I treat him. Belgrade contains no friends who fight my cause; I plunge no sword into my Country's bosom; Nor sentence thousands to indulge my scorn.

PRINCESS.

Show Mercy, Prince! as thou wouldst wish to find it; Nor ask a price thou wouldst disdain to pay. Think on the chance of War, and nobly use The power, which Heaven, in vengeance to this Land, Ordains thy desolating sword to gain.

(Kneels.)

Think, if some treacherous turn of human fate,

Should thus bow down thy struggling mind to earth: Thus humbled, thus abas'd, in abject woe, If mercy thou wouldst hope, O, grant it now! By me the sorrowing People, thus implore thee; Their anguish'd souls, thus humbled to the dust, They deprecate thy rage, and sue for mercy.

MAHOMET.

Did the whole Heavenly Hierarchy kneel, Unmov'd I'd act the purpose of my soul.

(Campestran raises, and supports the Princess.)

But, on the terms I proffer'd, will I spare: Thou art the sovereign of thy Country's Fate. Live; and be partner of my bed and throne: Else, thy obdurate scorn shall wake more crimes, Than war's inventive cruelty yet knows. Pronounce the Doom—If mercy be thy will, Urge not my rugged soul, by vain resistance; Lest thou shouldst rouse a storm beyond control. If thou wilt yield, this moment is thy own; The next, may be too late, e'en for repentance.

(He walks away from the Princess.)

PRINCESS.

Thy justice, Heaven! o'ertakes me for my perjury; For my transgression my brave Husband falls. Though great my fault, yet dire, beyond compare. On me, thy over-whelming justice comes. Yet, awful Power! if sufferings can for crimes Atone, sure mine may hope to find remission.

Let this dread expiation clear my guilt, Make me so pure, that I may prove a victim, Acceptable to thee, and save my country still.

(Mahomet approaches.)

O! Mahomet! I'll be ransom for this People; I swear, till Heaven shall call my spirit hence, I will bear life, nor free me from its load. And,—if thou still insist to force my hand, I'll sacrifice myself—nay,—even to Thee; But thou must swear to give my Country peace, On fair and honourable, Princely Terms; Nor ask another Victim than myself; Must swear to grant my Husband's corpse a grave; And once again permit me to review My native palace, give me three, sad days, To take a last farewell, and see entomb'd The Husband of my love.

MAHOMET.

I swear to grant All thou hast ask'd; but on this one condition, Instant be mine. If thou attempt thy life, Thou doom'st Belgrade to an unheard-of vengeance. Princess! retire. Thou Dervis with her go, And, on thy life, protect her from herself. Prepare thy nuptial rites; I will but give The orders which befit this change, then come And take my bride, my fair, my bright Sultana.

(The Princess, supported by Campestran, goes into the inner tent; stopping at the Sword and Casque as she passes them.

SCENE ELEVENTH.

MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA.

MAHOMET.

Vengeance, and love! ye both are in my power!

MUSTAPHA.

Corvinus, though disarm'd, was not o'ercome; Sav'd by his troops, who gave their lives for his. Within our trenches they maintain their ground, Corvinus still is foremost in the fight. He will not yield; nor can he now retreat: Dearly he sells his life, and like Corvinus.

MAHOMET.

Come, I will see him fall. When dauntless heroes Firm, meet their fate, they are more great than mo|narchs, Whom favouring fortune crowns with easy conquests: They are a sight for Gods to view, and praise.

(Exeunt.)

End of the Fourth Act.

Fifth Act.

SCENE FIRST—THE SULTAN'S TENT.

(In the interval between the Fourth and Fifth Act, the word "Mahomet" given; first heard near, and distinctly, from many voices; then dying away at a distance. Just before the scene draws for the Fifth Act, a discharge of several canon; then shouting and warlike music. The scene drawing discovers Mustapha in the Tent. The Sultan's Guards ranged on the outside of the Tent. Another discharge of cannon. The door of the inner tent opens: the Prin|cess seen seated on a sofa, fainting, attendants sup|porting her.

MAHOMET,

(Coming forward, to the Attendants in the tent).

SEE, she attempts no deed of desperation.

(Door of the inner tent closes.)

Haste, call Chusanes.

(To one of the Guards.)

(To an Aga of the Guards.)

Aga! sound my charge, That my ten thousand Spahies* 1.17 form their ranks.

(The Aga goes out.)

Day dawns too slowly for my fierce impatience. Mustapha! thou must guard my tent, and watch Over the life of this disdainful Princess: Maddening with grief and rage, she, when our cannon Open'd their brazen throats, feeling at once Her Country's certain fate, with all the energy Of deep despair, her bosom on the earth, Invok'd her God, "By his dread Attribute "Of fearful Justice, to assert himself, "And curse me in the snare my falshood form'd." Grief shakes her frame almost to dissolution.

(The Sultan's Charge sounded.)

Soon as returning life comes to her cheek, Be it thy care to impress her mind with hopes Of winning mercy for her Country still, If she but live. She must not dare to die, Against my will. Death would impede my triumph O'er these proud Huniads.

(Canon again.)

Roar on! and sweep My foes from earth. Hark!!—

(The alarm word, "Duma," from many voices. Mahomet takes his fabre from the throne. The alarm word again and again. Then, "Huniades," from many voices.)

SCENE SECOND.

MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, CHUSANES, AGAS AND JANIZARIES.

CHUSANES

(entering).

Arm! mighty Sultan! arm! Our troops are slaugh|ter'd:

(Mahomet strikes his forehead.)

Caught in our own curs'd Toil. For when our fires Blaz'd forth, they show'd our marshall'd foe prepar'd. With battle-axe, and pointed spear uplift, To hurl destruction with their wonted rage. Our foremost dauntless fought, and bravely fell. But all our valiant hosts at once gave way, At the re-echoed shout of fierce Huniades: They fly, like carded wool* 1.18 before the wind At his approach, nor dare abide his presence. Huniades is master of our trenches,

Mahomet girds on his sabre.

And our own cannon are against us fir'd: The Oglani fly; all fly before Huniades; And our own Fires light Him to victory.

MAHOMET

(drawing his Sabre).

Light Him! vile Slave! they shall light Me to vengeance.

(To an Aga.)

Give orders, that the troops in yonder grove Move not, till I demand their aid; when wanted, I'll send this signal to approach my standard.

(Showing the scabbard of his sabre.)

(The Aga goes out.)

(In a lower voice to Mustapha, showing an immense ruby Ring on his left hand.)

If I send this, give the Sultana poison.

(To an Aga.)

Unfurl our mighty Prophet's standard.—Follow!

(Addressing himself to all.)

And view the triumphs of my conquering Arm.

(A magnificent Green Standard unfurled; the Tur|kish Arms emblazoned in gold and precious stones. The Agas, as the standard is unfurled, draw their sabres.)

ONE OF THE AGAS.

Or Death, or Victory; lead, mighty Prince!

(Mahomet goes out, attended by Chusanes, the Agas, and the Janizaries. The standard borne before him.)

SCENE THIRD.

THE PRINCESS, MUSTAPHA, GUARDS.

(A loud shout heard.—A discharge of cannon. After which, the door of the inner tent opens.—The Princess enters with precipitation, as breaking from those within. The Guards retire from sight, when the Princess comes into the outer tent.

PRINCESS

(to Mustapha).

Where, Messenger of woe! where is thy Sultan?

MUSTAPHA.

Gone forth to lead the Faithful on to battle.

PRINCESS,

Heaven!—let thy signal vengeance strike this monster; Harrow his soul at once with all his crimes; Let every woe his savage heart inflicts, In all its bitterest agony, recoil upon His head, till in despair he curse himself.— —In vain I'm sacrific'd—this tyrant's Wife; And not the saviour of my wretched Country. Has Hell a torment that can equal this? Had I but sav'd the People from destruction, Though plung'd in woe, my fate would have been bliss To what I feel. Offended Heaven rejects me.

Justly the fate I broke my oath to shun, O'erwhelms me now—

MUSTAPHA.

Restrain this tide of grief!

PRINCESS

(to Heaven).

Punish my guilt upon myself alone!—

(Cannon heard.)

—O infants! virgins! matrons! of Belgrade! 'Tis my transgression draws this ruin on you! Then, curse the hand which to the spoiler gives you! Perjur'd and lost Agmunda! Thou hast orphann'd Thy country's helpless babes, widow'd her wives, Hast forc'd her heroes on to certain death, And made thy native Land, a land of slaves.

MUSTAPHA.

Your love may win the Sultan's heart to spare.

PRINCESS.

Spare!!—When his sword reeks in my Country's blood? Corvinus lost, torn from my arms in wrath, Why should I live, given to the fiend, I loathe? His Wife! Distraction! Curs'd, curs'd, Mahomet's Wife! Me Heaven itself forsakes;—

(pauses from grief.)

—a wretch, an outcast—

(With resolution bordering upon phrenzy.

I'll face the injur'd heroes of my Land,

And perish by their swords.

(Going from the tent by the side on which she en|tered, when brought in by Abdalla.)

MUSTAPHA,

(Going between the Princess and the side scene).

(Cannon heard.)

You must not pass. This way lies danger; here the battle rages.

PRINCESS,

(With feigned composure, yet breathless from agitation.)

I heed not danger; let me view the fight.

MUSTAPHA.

Bright Sultaness! I cannot grant your prayer; Beyond this Tent I dare not let you pass.

(She forces past him, he takes her in his arms, and brings her back.)

PRINCESS

(as Mustapha strives to prevent her going).

Detain me not!—

(When forced back.)

Inhuman Slave! unhand me!

(Cannon heard.)

O wretched Country! O Friends! Brother! Husband! But I will join you.—

(She again attempts to go; Mustapha prevents her; and signs to the Guards, who advance & stop the passage.)

—Slave! swift palsy blast Thy ruffian arm; unheard-of plagues torment thee. Oh! may'st thou share the maddening pangs I feel, And be so curs'd, thou canst not even die!

(A Slave advances through the Guards, and pre|sents the Sultan's Ring to Mustapha, who starts with horrour at the sight of it.)

MUSTAPHA

(apart).

Why came he not himself?

(He whispers to a Slave, who retires; then signs to the Guards, who advance on both sides; their hands on their sabres.)

(Kneeling to the Princess.)

O peerless Woman! Hard is my fate, to be again the messenger Of woe, to seal thy Doom. The will of Heaven,

(The Slave appears with the cup of Poison; the Guards draw their sabres, and advance nearer to the Princess.)

And of my Master, must be done. Resistance Would be in vain.

(Shows the Sultan's Ring.)

Your instant death he orders.

(Mustapha rises, and takes the Cup of Poison from the Slave.)

PRINCESS

(with rapture).

Bless'd sound!

MUSTAPHA.

This draught—

PRINCESS

(taking the Poison with great eagerness).

Is the Viaticum, Which Heaven has sent. My deep contrition has

Acceptance found. Death is the sign of pardon. Tyrant! thy crime is mercy to thy Victim. Corvinus! husband of my heart! I join thee.

(She drinks the Poison; the Guards sheath then sabres, and retire.)

(Kneeling.)

All gracious Power! complete this bless'd deliverance. Redeem my Country! and protect my Brother! Forgive the frailties of my erring mind, And let thy Peace, in this dread hour, support me!

(To Mustapha, rising.)

How long must I still live?

MUSTAPHA.

A little span; This lowering dawn is thy whole sum of life; The Sun will never rise for thee again.

PRINCESS.

Thou hast thyself to tread through Death's dark vale. Anticipate that hour, when nature trembling, E'en though resign'd, wants some sustaining friend. Then think how bitterly that hour would linger, To have about thy bed of death none other, Than objects of thy hate, to see thee die, To view thy last, sad pang, and close thy eyes. Reflect on this, and pity Me. O, lead me! Where, in vile chains, the good Campestran groans. Though deep my anguish, and though fix'd my woes. His prayers will calm my soul, and I shall die Resign'd.

MUSTAPHA.

I grieve I cannot grant your wish.

PRINCESS

(with agitation).

Such cruelty excites—

(Stops short, repressing her anger.)

(Recovering her solemn composure.)

But what have I To do with human passions now? The sorrows Of my torn heart are just absolv'd. My soul, Be firm; the peaceful sleep of friendly death Medicines thy load of woes! Would I had where To lay my weary head, till that sleep comes!

(The Princess retires into the inner Tent.)

(A discharge of Cannon, a confused noise, & shrieks heard.)

SCENE FOURTH.

MAHOMET, CHUSANES, ZOGANUS, AGAS, SPAHIES, JANIZARIES, MUSTAPHA, &c.

Mahomet, wounded and exhausted, brought in by the Agas; a turban bound round him. The Agas sup|port him; as he recovers, he struggles to shake them off; they still hold him.

CHUSANES.

All, Mustapha, is lost! Our Sultan wounded. As thou seest, almost to death. Flight alone

Can be our refuge, in this wreck of fortune; Only the Rear-Guard is yet unassail'd: Let us with that retreat and save our Emperor. 'Twill be a bloody and a desperate service; But better death than chains from Christian foes.

MAHOMET

(recovering).

Ye curs'd rebellious Slaves! give me a sabre! I'll not retreat before these scoffing Christians. Had I ten thousand lives, I'd give them all, Rather than yield such triumph to my foes. Let me not live, unless I live to glory.

(Struggling to get from them.)

Give me but arms;—I'll slay whole hecatombs; And, if at last I fall, a trophy leave, Such hosts of slain, as shall record, that Mahomet With an unconquer'd spirit brav'd his fate.

CHUSANES.

Think of your wound.

MAHOMET.

Unhand me to revenge it. Begone, ye recreant traitors! Christian Slaves!

(He bursts from them.)

Nor hope to chain the whirlwind of my rage: I will have vengeance. Dastards! from the field, Ye forc'd your prince; forc'd Mahomet to fly Before a Christian Foe.

CHUSANES.

You were disarm'd, Wounded, and fallen. Our Prophet frowns upon us, And lets the Christians triumph.

MAHOMET.

Curse on his frowns* 1.19. Let him be satisfy'd to reign in Heaven; And leave this world to me.—Why does he aid These Christians? Man alone, could not achieve Deeds like Huniades.—Think of his feats, Since yester morn. Though I destroy'd my Fleet, In hopes to stop his landing, in the teeth Of half my troops he lands; swift mows his way Athwart their serried ranks; flies through Belgrade; Defeats my Army; storms my Camp; and turns E'en my own Cannon 'gainst my flying Slaves. Though Amurath fled hence, Gods! must I fly † 1.20?

(Strikes his forehead.)

CHUSANES.

But yesterday, his vaunted Son, Corvinus, Whose fame transcends his own, fled from your arms.

MAHOMET.

By Heaven! that flight was great; great as the triumph Of curs'd Huniades. Like a chaf'd Lion, Did he not rush from his insulted lair, Come forth, with a few hundred men, against Embattled myriads? Were not our slain Double the number of his band? With more Than half his troops, went he not back, to tell What he had dar'd? Flight call you that from 'midst An army such as mine? 'Twas like a God, Lancing his terrours, and then stepping back To grasp more dreadful thunder 'gainst his foes.

MUSTAPHA.

The troops, in yonder grove, await your signal. Submit to fate, retreat. Allow your judgment—

MAHOMET.

Give me a sabre, or I'll go unarm'd.

(He attempts to go, crossing the stage to pass the Agas.)

MUSTAPHA

(to the Agas).

Friends! beyond men be bold to save your Sultan.

(Whispers to Chusanes and the Aga next him; the

whisper circulated round. Chusanes, Mustapha and the Agas range themselves to prevent Ma|homet's passing.)

CHUSANES

(raising his sabre).

Yes, gallant Mustapha!

MUSTAPHA.

Great Mahomet, hear me! Let reason's voice now sway—

MAHOMET

(offering to go).

I will not hear it.—

MUSTAPHA,

(Drawing his sabre, and opposing his passage; Chu|sanes and the Agas at the same time raise theirs, and point them against Mahomet).

Then this—

(lifting his sabre)

must make it beam upon thy mind: Our Sabres reason with thy mad temerity. Sultan! thou shalt not live to be a captive. No Christian shall exulting give thee chains: Thy faithful Slaves will end thee, and then die. Mustapha's arm shall set the great example, Pierce thy brave heart, then turn the reeking blade Against his own.

(Trumpets sound an alarm, the Turks face about, sur|rounding their Sultan.)

Enter a Janizary.

JANIZARY.

Fly! Fly! Huniades has forc'd the Guard.

(A shout nearer, and a discharge of cannon: the Turks surround the Sultan.)

HUNIADES

(spoken behind the scene).

Rally the troops; for Mahomet is here. Surround the tent. This fiend shall not escape me.

MUSTAPHA.

Guards! force the Sultan hence!—Save him, ye Faithful!

(Gives Mahomet his own sabre, and takes one from a Janizary.)

Deign to retreat; stay not to be a captive!

(The Janizaries force Mahomet back; Mustapha, Chusanes, Zoganus, range themselves before the Sultan, so as to face the Hungarians.)

SCENE FIFTH.

(A shout. HUNIADES enters, followed by VILACH and the Hungarians.)

HUNIADES.

Tyrant, thy fate, Huniades, is come!

(Mahomet bursts from the Janizaries. Huniades and he aim at each other: Mustapha catches upon his sabre the blow which Huniades strikes at Mahomet; by which means his sabre is struck from his hand, and the Hungarians make him prisoner. The Janizaries rush before Mahomet, those behind, force him back; Zoganus and Chu|sanes, retreating, oppose Huniades, still keeping between him and the Sultan, who is forced away.)

HUNIADES.

Stay, treacherous Infidel! Barbarian, fly not!

MAHOMET

(as he is forced away).

Huniades! Thy arm I still defy.

(Cannon and shouts.)

SCENE SIXTH.

HUNIADES, VILACH, MUSTAPHA, HUNGA|RIAN OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS.

VILACH

(stopping Huniades).

Your valour wings you to forget your orders; "Not to pursue the Foe beyond the Camp."

HUNIADES

(going).

Mahomet is here. My sword shall free mankind—

(Cannon on the side to which Huniades is going.)

VILACH.

Pursue him not. The cannon are come round;

(A discharge of cannon.)

Our soldiers fire upon the flying Sultan.

HUNIADES

(returning).

Prudence indeed forbids us the pursuit.

(Another discharge of cannon.)

What right good service has their Ordnance done us Mahomet may fall by his own dreadful enginery: Some Heaven-sent shot may execute that justice, Which Providence denies my trusty sword.

VILACH,

(Seeing Huniades lean fainting upon the Officer next to him).

General, you droop!—Your wounds I fear are mortal? Alas! if great Huniades survive not, Though the Turks quit the field, they conquer Us. If you be lost, our hearts will be subdued. Like dastards shall we fall, and not like men.

(The Soldiers who fought against the Turks when Mahomet is forced away, return with the royal Turkish standard.)

HUNIADES

(looking at the standard).

Belgrade is sav'd. Grieve not for me, my friend! I thought my death, though certain, not thus near. Think not of me, the Princess claims your aid:

Unless found here, brave Friends! pursue the foe, At any risk.

MUSTAPHA

(pointing to the inner tent).

She is within that tent.

HUNIADES

(extremely faint).

Thanks for her safety, Heaven! That care is o'er.

VILACH.

Oh! must this Day be mention'd but with tears! These wondrous acts be told but to record, How much this day we lose, in losing thee?

HUNIADES.

Bathe not our laurels with your tears, my Friends! Our Virgins, Matrons, Children, Sires, are sav'd; Rejoice! Exult! We fought, we bled, we conquer'd, The glorious work of Freedom is achiev'd, Yon field is won. The struggle is no more. From Infidels our Country is redeem'd, Our infant King in safety wears his Crown.

(Sinks faint.)

VILACH.

Must our bright Sun, in his meridian blaze, Be veil'd in night? his light and warmth withdrawn, His course of glory stemm'd in mid career?

HUNIADES

(reviving).

Lament not thus: for long has been my course;

And war has with no common favour spar'd me. My Friends! I led your Grandsires to the field: Aiding my arm, your valiant Fathers bled. My glory is not stemm'd in mid career: Death comes but when my age demands repose. My wounds, though mortal, yet have miss'd my heart: My strength returns, my spirits feel renew'd.

(Kneels.)

Leader of armies! King of Kings! accept The silent tribute of thy Servants' hearts, Till with due Rites, their solemn sacrifice, They grateful pay, for this their bless'd deliv'rance. Resign'd to thy decrees, I wait for death; Thankful that, when thou call'st me hence, my debt To Nature, in my Country's cause, is paid. Bless our young Monarch with his People's love; His People bless, as they to him prove faithful.

Rises.

Vilach! take you the conduct of the field, And let my care devolve on you my friend.

VILACH.

Hard is the task to follow thee in fame. But must I leave thee thus, struggling with death?

HUNIADES.

Companion of my Wars! my brother! friend! We yet shall meet again.

VILACH.

Heaven grant we may▪

SCENE SEVENTH.

HUNIADES, MUSTAPHA, OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS.

HUNIADES.

Retire, my friends! withdraw your noble prisoner; Guard him; and give him honourable treatment.

(To Mustapha.)

Brave I esteem thee, though thou art my captive. Say, is Campestran in these Tents?

MUSTAPHA.

He is. O gen'rous Christian▪ when my deeds are known, Revenge will take my life. But I have sav'd My Prince; and, on such terms, death is most wel|come.

(Exit guarded.)

(Exeunt Hungarian Soldiers.)

SCENE EIGHTH.

HUNIADES, THE PRINCESS.

HUNIADES

(going towards the tent).

Oh! that my King had but Agmunda's virtues! Child as he is, he then would grace a throne;

And give transcendent hopes of future fame. Agmunda!

(Huniades opens the door of the inner tent; the Princess discovered kneeling.)

PRINCESS,

(Starting, and looking with astonishment at Huniades.)

Hah!

HUNIADES.

The Victory is ours.

PRINCESS.

Ours??—Heavens! Speak! speak again! but say 'tis Ours!

HUNIADES.

Yes; Victory indeed is ours. I come To guard you back, in triumph, to Belgrade.

(The Princess rises, and comes panting and much agitated to Huniades; looking very earnestly, and rather wildly, at him. He supports and leads her forward to the front of the stage. She falls at his feet, attempting to speak, but is unable.)

PRINCESS.

Oh!

HUNIADES.

By fear bereav'd of sense! she knows me not.

(Huniades throws away his helmet.)

Huniades, thy friend, thy Guardian, saves thee; Thy Father's old, grey-headed, faithful Servant.

PRINCESS.

I know thee well; thou art the guardian genius Of this freed land,—Heaven's delegate,—Huniades!

HUNIADES.

Why, Princess! dost thou kneel? For Heaven's sake, rise!

(Raises her.)

PRINCESS.

I swore an oath to Thee, which Heaven attested, When thy persuasion, arm'd against my peace, Fatally triumph'd o'er my ductile mind. I am forsworn. For yester-morn my faith Was, at the Altar, plighted to thy Son. I knelt for pardon, for this breach of Oath, Which, thou forgiving, I then shall hope Heaven will remit hereafter punishment; And its retributory justice end, When my vex'd spirit quits its mortal clay.

HUNIADES.

O Princess! pardon me, that I exacted An Oath, so fatal to thy peace. State policy, Combin'd with honest zeal, to fix the Crown Safe on thy Brother's brow, made me unjust. I curb'd the dearest wishes of my heart, Silenc'd ambition and parental love, To serve my Country, and protect my King. May Heaven, and you, forgive the erring zeal Which wrought the ill thy conscience thus deplores.

But I must now rejoice; and Heaven be witness, Pride of my soul! admir'd, belov'd Agmunda! How much I glory, that thou art my Daughter. Exalted Princess! may these faithful arms—

PRINCESS

(falling on his neck).

My Father! from my cradled infancy, Thou kindly hast supply'd my Parent's loss; And I have lov'd thee with a daughter's love. But, ah! that scarf?

(to Heaven.)

O, spare Huniades!

HUNIADES.

Huniades is bless'd, beyond his hopes! Not quiring Angels could impart more peace, Chaunting a Requiem to my parting soul, Than the dear comfort that thy pious hand, Most gracious Princess! will perform a Child's Last duty—close my eyes.

PRINCESS.

That Heaven forbids; For, by the Sultan's order, I am poison'd.

HUNIADES.

Poison'd? O my lov'd Princess! O my child! My ill-starr'd zeal expos'd thee to this sate. Blood-thirsty fiend! my vengeance shall o'ertake him. Arnulph!

(going to the side scene, an Officer appears.)

Fly to Belgrade for ev'ry help Which poison can expel. The Princess—fly—

(Exit Arnulph.)

PRINCESS.

Oh! send him not; there is no aid for Me. The tyrant's ruffians know too well the trade Of death, to give a drug that has an antidote. I would not live. What has the bride of Mahomet To do with life?

(Huniades starts with surprise and horrour.)

HUNIADES.

The Bride of Mahomet? The Sultan's Bride? Didst thou not wed my Son?

PRINCESS.

Yes! the last, fatal day saw me his Bride, His Widow—and the inhuman Sultan's Wife. When tidings came that thy brave Son was slain; In hopes to save the People from destruction, I gave my hand to this infernal spoiler. But first, he kneeling, swore to save Belgrade, And give my Country honourable peace. Betray'd, forlorn, of ev'ry hope bereft, Save, to protect Belgrade from Fire and Sword, I gave myself a Victim for the Many; Sav'd, at that price, my gallant Husband's corpse, From those vile insults which the tyrant threaten'd. I gave my hand a ransom for his dust; Thus bought a Grave, which fate had curs'd me so, I could not share; for I was sworn to live. The miracle which Heaven has wrought to save us By sending Thee, whom I had mourn'd as dead,

Was beyond thought. Hope of deliv'rance perish'd When dear Corvinus died.

HUNIADES,

(Goes to the side scene, and speaks to an Officer).

Surround the Tent. Nor suffer any, above the Rank of Soldier, To enter here.

PRINCESS,

(Following Huniades, and drawing him back).

Stay with me, till the strife Is past. Forsake me not, in death's dread hour. My woes hang heavy on my parting soul.

HUNIADES

(with much emotion).

They will embitter my last hours of life.

PRINCESS,

(Her eyes fixed wildly upon Huniades, taking his hand).

Do not grieve thus: see, I am calm, unmov'd, Patient, amidst these horrours, and sedate.

HUNIADES

(aside).

Heavens! madly calm, and dreadfully sedate.

PRINCESS.

Alas! this poison gives a cruel death, Fierce pangs, and sad, wild thoughts—

(Holding up her hands in a supplicating manner.)

Forsake me not!

(During this speech, Huniades is much agitated, The Princess hangs upon his arm: he turns from her to hide his tears, covering his face with his hand. When she says, with a voice of heart-pierc|ing anguish, "forsake me not," Huniades clasps her in his arms.)

HUNIADES.

Forsake thee!—

(Pauses from grief.)

Angel sufferer!—not for worlds, Were I a spirit beatify'd, I'd pray To quit the realms of bliss, to be thy comforter.

PRINCESS.

Then thou wilt calm the terrours of this hour.

(With transient joy.)

My Country is redeem'd, the People sav'd. And thou, their Champion, com'st to soothe my soul, Let the same earth entomb me with thy Son.

(With wild emotion.)

Think—how I love his dear, his sacred dust, When, at such hellish price, I bought that dust A Grave:—Shall I not share it?—Am I poison'd? Death's icy hand arrests me; that, that consoles me.— My troubled brain rolls like a sea of fire. My heart heaves cold, damp sighs, which freeze my lips.

(Strives to recollect.)

All is confusion—strange thoughts come—they're gone—

Spare me a moment, Heaven! Avert these horrours; Divide us not in death—

(Clasping the hand of Huniades.)

Give us one Grave.

(With recollection and something of composure.)

Tell to the people, how I strove to save them. Tell them to love my Brother, for my sake. Reward my servants—I—forgive my Uncle, Wicked, unprincely man!

HUNIADES.

Whate'er thy wrongs, They have been well aveng'd; for when Belgrade Open'd her gates to Me, he had just suffer'd Death, by Zilugo's sword.

PRINCESS.

Forgive him, Heaven! This poison's terrible; it warps my mind, Benumbs its firmness; like a wither'd limb Its active energy is lost and gone. I wish for death; yet I feel terrour at it,— I know not why; horrour more fearful to me, Than midnight silence, when cold, breathless fear Suspends the labouring soul in dread expectance Of a fell murderer's stab,—the bloody hand Uplift to strike—

(She looks wildly, as if she saw what she describes, shrinking from it.)

(Grasping Huniades' arm.)

Speak to me! hold me!

(Lays her head on his shoulder.)

Hide me!

The quiv'ring earth disparts—the chasm yawns for me.

(Sinks into the arms of Humades, gasping with ter|rour; and struggling for support.)

Support me—save me—Oh!

HUNIADES.

Though not for life, Heaven! let her virtues plead for peaceful rest.

PRINCESS

(breaking from Humades).

Here is no rest for Me. I cannot rest. The ground flies from me.

(Leans on Humades.)

Oh! it looks so dreadfully.

(Her hand held up a moment, as if to hide the ground from her sight.)

What flames of sparkling fire! Are these my punish|ment?

HUNIADES.

No; thou sweet excellence! The poison now •…•…e••s its baleful powers, and clouds thy sight.

PRINCESS.

I hope 'tis that—But yet, I have my senses;

(Looking at him.)

You are Huniades—This

(looking round)

is the Tent; 'Tis Hell, it is all flames: and what am I?

(She flies wildly from Huniades.)

HUNIADES

(following her, and taking her hand).

Agmunda soon will be a radiant Angel, Her Virtues all rewarded.

PRINCESS

(withdrawing from his hold.)

Where's the dagger? No! no! I prize it for the Giver's sake— Mark me, Campestran! I'll not kill myself. Corvinus is in Heaven—I would go to him.—

HUNIADES

(taking her hand).

Be calm!

PRINCESS

(breaking from him).

Bid calmness come! does it obey thee And can a mind distracted, ruin'd, calm Despair. Oh! when I am most mute 'tis worst. Bid me not think:—for then—I ponder mischief Against myself; and I would go to Heaven; Therefore no mischief.—Fain I'd bide the storm.— Speak comfort, say my heart has it's death's wound.

(Going close up to Huniades, & speaking in a low voice.)

I swore an Oath to make myself a wretch; Then the shaft pierc'd me: sure, though slow, it glided To my inmost life; and this day—sends it home.

(Noise.)

CORVINUS

(without).

Hither I hew'd my path; and I will enter.

(Huniades shews much horrour and distress at hearing his Son's voice.)

PRINCESS,

(Panting with terrour, taking hold of Huniades).

Hark! Mahomet! Mahomet comes!! Where shall I fly Earth, ope thy caverns! Heaven, thy thunder lance! O Death! unbar thy thousand gates to hide me. Have mercy, Heaven! Campestran! kneel, and pray, Some miracle may save me from this infidel.

(Huniades supports her.)

(To Heaven, with outstretched hands.)

Release my tortur'd soul! O, take me! take me!

(She sinks into the arms of Huniades.)

SCENE NINTH.

CORVINUS, HUNIADES, THE PRINCESS.

CORVINUS.

Agmunda! dear Agmunda! why this terrour

PRINCESS

(raising herself, and looking round)

What voice is that?

HUNIADES

(keeping between the Princess and his Son)

There is no voice, Agmunda It is the Poison hurts thy mind.

CORVINUS.

Hah! Pois••n▪

PRINCESS.

That voice!

(looking.)

It has his form! I think it has. Look you!

(Hides her face on Huniades.)

HUNIADES

(aside to his Son).

For Heaven's sake go!

(To the Princess.)

'Tis thy wild thoughts; There's no one near the tent,—but thou and I.

PRINCESS.

No! I hope not—The vision comes to Me. Thou canst not see it.

(Corvinus approaches.)

Thou shalt have a Grave. Oh!

(She averts, with her hand, the approach of Cor|vinus, who takes her outstretched hand; she manifests, by the horrour of her looks, first turned to Huniades, then on Corvinus, that she knows how fatally she has been deceived by the account of his death: and, with a piercing groan, dies.

CORVINUS.

Alas! she faints!

HUNIADES.

My Son! that groan was death.

CORVINUS,

(Attempting to draw his sword, Huniades prevents him.)

Detain me not. Tell not the tale of horrour

That swells thy heart—and let this give me peace.

(Again attempts to draw his sword, Huniades pre|vents him.)

HUNIADES.

Hope not for peace through unpermitted means, And dread—for thy particular self, Corvinus! With wholesome fear, and stand in awe, that Heaven Its Mercy veils, when the self-murderer pleads. On my grey hairs avenge not thy distress. The grave awaits me; bid me not go down to it With added grief,—with fear,—with trembling agony, That thy rash act, for ever, may divide us. My Son!

(Clasps his arms about Corvinus.)

CORVINUS.

Oh! do not speak. I will not live.

(Huniades unclasps his arms, & retires a step from him.)

I have no use for life.

HUNIADES

(rather sternly).

A wounded Father. Son! claims thy pious care. Thy life, and sword, Thy injur'd Country, and thy King demand.

(In a softened voice.)

Agmunda's wrongs claim vengeance from my Son.

(Corvinus rouses; he kneels and takes hold of Ag|munda's hand, as if he were swearing to avenge her wrongs.)

She lov'd thee well.

(Corvinus rises.)

She lov'd thee for thy valour. If like a coward, now thou fly'st the field Of life, Agmunda will in Heaven know care. Continue what she lov'd, a dauntless Hero, Firm midst the dangers of terrific war, Or the stern trials of domestic woe. Joyless thyself, yet live for others bliss. O, grant him, Heaven! the patience thou reward'st; Preserve this comfort for my hour of death, When I no longer fight my Country's cause, To know, I leave her Champion in my Son.

(Leans on Corvinus.)

End of the Fifth Act.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Sir William Temple says that, "Huniades was one of the three Worthies who deserved a Crown without wearing one." The reward, merited by the virtues and great talents of the father, was paid to the son; for in 1458, the Hungarians, from their love to Huniades, and grate|ful remembrance of his long services, chose his son, Matthias Corvinus, for their King.
• * 1.2

  New Universal History, vol. XXVI. p. 296, there is a mistake in the date of this Siege of Belgrade, which is there put down A.D. 1459; and in vol. XXXII. p. 149, the date is 1456, which last agrees with other Historians.
• * 1.3

  D'Ohsson's Hist. Gen. of the Othoman Empire, vol. 1. p. 539.
• * 1.4

  This alludes to the fate of the Sultaness Irene. Mahomet, being told that the Janizaries, and the great officers murmured, that he spent ••o much time in her company, and were ready to revolt, assembled the Divan, and brought Irene before them; and after severely reproaching them for daring to murmer at his attachment to her, he, to shew them that he was master over his affections, twisted his hand in her hair which hung flowing over her shoulders, and with one blow of his scimitar struck off her head, to the horror and surprise of all present.

  KNOLLES, p. 353.
• * 1.5

  Mahomet was altogether irreligious, and of all others most per|fidious, ambitious above measure, and he delighted in nothing more than in blood. KNOLLES's HIST. OF THE TURKS, p. 433.
• * 1.6

  The bad success of the enterprise against Belgrade was attributed to the appearance of two Comets on the concluding days of that memorable Sie••e. See D'Ohsson's Hist. Gen. of the Othoman Empire, vol. I. p. 246.
• † 1.7

  See Sale's Translation of the KORAN.
• * 1.8

  The Sultan Amurath had seven thousand Falconers, and seven thousand Huntsmen; and at the head of ten thousand men, Huniades defeated the whole Turkish army, commanded by Amurath in person. At Vascape, at the head of fifteen thousand men, he defeated an army of eighty thousand Turks: and for this signal victory, Te Deum was sung for three days throughout Hungary.
• * 1.9

  See Knolles, p. 351.
• * 1.10

  See Sale's Translation of the KORAN.
• † 1.11

  Alexander and Julius Caesar were the models which Mahomet strove to imitate. Homer, Quintius Curtius, and Caesar's Commentaries, were his favourite studies. He was master of all the learning of his time, and understood six or seven different languages. At this period, he was in the twenty-fifth year of his age.
• * 1.12

  This, through life, was Mahomet's ambition, and he would have accomplished it, had he not been killed at the siege of Otranto in Italy.
• † 1.13

  Mahomet said this when informed of the death of Huniades.
• * 1.14

  Mary, the Daughter of George, the Despot of Servia.
• * 1.15

  The following is the Oath of the Turkish Sultans. "By the Im|mortal God, by the four hundred Prophets, by Mahomet, by my Father's Soul, by my own Children, by the Sword wherewith I am girt, I solemnly swear to perform what I have now promised." This Oath was sworn by Mahomet at the sacking of Constantinople, 1453, three years before the Era of this Tragedy, when he promised the soldiers, that if they could take the City, they should have the spoil of it for three days.
• * 1.16

  "Ye are also forbidden to take to wife free women who are mar|ried, except those women whom your right hand shall possess as Slaves." SALE's Translation of the KORAN, p. 63.
• * 1.17

  The Body Guards of the Turkish Sultans are selected from the Janizaries. The better sort amongst them are honoured with the name of Spahi, Oglani, that is to say, the Sultan's Knights and Sons. See KNOLLES, p. 485, 1463; and Brief Discourse, p. 5 and 6.
• * 1.18

  Koran, chap. 101.
• * 1.19

  Mahomet, repulsed at the siege of Scodra, blasphemed in his choler and frantic rage most horribly against God; most impiously saying,

  that it were enough for him to have care of Heavenly things, and not to cross him in his worldly actions.

  KNOLLES, p. 423.
• † 1.20

  This was Mahomet's manner of expressing rage, grief, or disap|pointment. And, when under the influence of his rage, he never thought of his own personal safety. Once seeing his Admiral going to strike to a Genoese ship, he spurred his horse so far into the sea, that he narrowly escaped being drowned.

  After this siege of Belgrade, no one dared to mention that city in his presence; and he never mentioned it himself without expressions of grief.