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(By oft repeating instances) to draw

My sword for him: But when he found my soul

Disdain'd his purpose, he more fiercely told me,

That my Arpasia, my lov'd sister's fate

Depended on my courage shown for him.

I had long learnt to hold myself at nothing;

But for her sake, to ward the blow from her,

I bound my service to the man 1 hated.

Six days are past, since, by the sultan's order,

I left the pledge of my return behind,

And went to guard this princess to his camp:

The rest the brave Axalla's fortune tells you.

Tarn. Wisely the tyrant strove to prop his cause
By leaguing with thy virtue; but just Heav'n
Has torn thee from his side, and left him naked
To the^avenging bolt, that drives upon him.
Forget the name, of captive, and I wish
I could as well restore that fair one's freedom,
Whose loss hangs heavy on thee: yet, ere night,
Perhaps, we may deserve thy friendship nobler;
Th' approaching storm may cast thy shipwreck d

Back to thy arms: till that be past, since war
(Though in the justest cause) is ever doubtful,
I will not ask thy sword to aid my victory,
Lest it should hurt that hostage of thy valour
Our common foe detains,

Mon. Let Bajazet
Bend to his yoke repining slaves by force;
You, sir, have found a nobler way to empire,
Lord of the willing world.

Tarn. Haste, my Axalla, to dispose with safety
Thy beauteous charge, and on the foe revenge
The pain which absence gives; thy other care,
Honour and arms, now summon thy attendance.
Now do thy office well, my soul! Remember
Thy cause, the cause of Heav'n and injur'd earth.
O thou Supreme! if thy great spirit warms

My glowing breast, and fires my soul to arms,
Grant that my sword, assisted by \hy pow'r,
This day may peace and happiness restore,
That war and lawless rage may vex the world no more.
[Exeunt Tamerlane, Moneses, Prince Of
Tanais, Zama, Mirvan, and Attendants.
Ax. The battle calls, and bids me haste to leave thee;

Oh, Selima! But let destruction wait.

Are there not hours enough for blood and slaughter?
This moment shall be love's, and I will waste it
In soft complainings, fur thy sighs and coldness,
For thy forgetful coldness; even at Birza,
When in thy father's court my eyes first own'd thee,
Fairer than light, the joy of their beholding,
Even then thou wert not thus.

Sel. Young and unskilful in the world's false arts,
I suffer'd love to steal upon my softness,
And warm me with a, lambent guiltless flame:
Yes, I have heard thee swear a thousand times,
And call the conscious pow'rs of Heav'n to witness
The tend'rest, truest, everlasting passion.
But, oh! 'tis past; and I will charge remembrance
To banish the fond image from my soul.
Since thou art sworn the foe of royal Bajazet,
I have resolv'd to hate thee.

Ax. Is it possible! Hate is not in thy nature; thy whole frame Is harmony, without one jarring atom. Why dost thou force thy eyes to wear this coldness? It damps the springs of life. Oh! bid me die, Much rather bid me die, if it be true

That thou hast sworn to hate me.

Sel. Let life and death
Wait the decision of the bloody field;
Nor can thy fate, my conqueror, depend
Upon a woman's hate. Yet, since you urge
A power, which once perhaps I had, there is
But one request that I can make with honour.

Ax. Oh, name it! say!

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

Ax. Impossible! The tumult of the battle,

That bastes to join, cuts off all means of commerce
Betwixt the armies.

Sel. Swear then to perform it,
Which way soe'er the chance of war determines,
On my first instance.

Ax. By the sacred majesty
Of Heaven, to whom we kneel, I will obey thee;
Yes, I will give thee this severest proof
Of my soul's vow'd devotion;
But is there nothing,
No small return that honour can afford
For all this waste of love?
What! not one kind look?
Then thou art chang'd indeed. [Trumpets.] Hark, I

am summonM,
And thou wilt send me forth like one unbless'd;
Whom fortune has forsaken, and ill fate
Mark'd for destruction.
Nor is life or fame

Worthy my care, since I am lost to thee. [Going.
Sel. Ha! goest thou to the fight?

Ax. I do. Farewell!

Sel. What! and no more! A sigh heaves in my
And stops the struggling accents on my tongue,
Else, sure, I should have added something more,
And made our parting softer.

Ax. Give it way.
The niggard honour, that affords not love,

Forbids not pity

If it were possible my heart could stray,
One look from thee would call it back again,
And fix the wanderer for ever thine.

Sel. Where is my boasted resolution now?

[Sinking into his Arms.

Alas! Axalla, say dost thou not pity

My artless innocence, and easy fondness?

Oh! turn thee from me, or I die with blushing.

Ax. No, let me rather gaze, for ever gaze, And bless the new born glories that adorn thee;

[Trumpets. This envious trumpet calls,' and tears me from thee—

Sel. My fears increase, and doubly press me now: I charge thee, if thy sword comes cross my father, Stop for a moment, and remember me.

Ax. Oh, doubt not but his life shall be my care; Ev'n dearer than my own

Sel. Guard that for me too.

Ax. O, Selima! thou hast rcstor'd my quiet. The noble ardour of the war, with love Returning, brightly burns within my breast, And bids me be secure of all hereafter.

[Exeunt, GuArdsfollowing.



The Inside of a Magnificent Tent.
Symphony of Warlike Music.

Enter Tamerlane, Axalla, Prince Of Tanais,
Zama, Mirvan, Soldiers, and other Attendants.

Ax. From this auspicious day the Parthian name Shall date its birth of empire, and extend

Ev'n from the dawning east to utmost Tlmle,
The limits of its sway.

Prince. Nations unknown, -''y'.')'llrt ''''
Where yet the'Roman eagles never flew,'
Shall pay their homage to victorious Tamerlane;
Bend to his valour and superior virtue,
And own, that conquest is not given by chance,
But, Bound by fatal and resistless merit,
Waits on his arms.

Tarn. It is too much: you dress me Like an usurper, in the borrow'd attributes Of injur'd Heaven. Can we call conquest ours? Shall man, this pigmy, with a giant's pride, Vaunt of himself, and say, " Thus have I done this? Oh, vain pretence to greatness! Like the moon,: We borrow all the brightness which we boast, Dark in ourselves, and useless. If that hand, That Tules the fate of battles, strike for us, Crown us with fame, and gild our clay with honour^ Twere most ungrateful to disown the benefit, And arrogate a praise which is not ours.

Ax. With such unshaken temper of the soul To bear the swelling tide of prosperous fortune, Is to deserve that fortune:

Enter Omar.

Omar. Honour and fame [Bowing to Tamerlane. For ever wait the emperor: may our prophet •Give him ten thousand thousand days of life, And every day like this. The captive sultan, Fierce in his bonds, and at his fate repining, Attends your sacred will.

Tarn. Let him approach. , T- ,^.^

.e/kccbajazet, and other Turkish Prisoners, in Chains, 'tiith a Guard of Soldiers. .' .*.

When I survey the "'ruSris'bf this field, -
The wild destruction, which thy fierce ambition

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