Dr. Johnson's Works: Life, Poems, and Tales Part 15

CALI, DEMETRIUS, LEONTIUS.

CALI.

Could omens fright the resolute and wise, Well might we fear impending disappointments.

LEONTIUS.

Your artful suit, your monarch's fierce denial, The cruel doom of hapless Menodorus--

DEMETRIUS.

And your new charge, that dear, that heav'nly maid--

LEONTIUS.

All this we know already from Abdalla.

DEMETRIUS.

Such slight defeats but animate the brave To stronger efforts and maturer counsels.

CALI.

My doom confirm'd establishes my purpose.

Calmly he heard, till Amurath's resumption Rose to his thought, and set his soul on fire: When from his lips the fatal name burst out, A sudden pause th' imperfect sense suspended, Like the dread stillness of condensing storms.

DEMETRIUS.

The loudest cries of nature urge us forward; Despotick rage pursues the life of Cali; His groaning country claims Leontius' aid; And yet another voice, forgive me, Greece, The pow'rful voice of love, inflames Demetrius; Each ling'ring hour alarms me for Aspasia.

CALI.

What pa.s.sions reign among thy crew, Leontius?

Does cheerless diffidence oppress their hearts?

Or sprightly hope exalt their kindling spirits?

Do they, with pain, repress the struggling shout, And listen eager to the rising wind?

LEONTIUS.

All there is hope, and gaiety, and courage, No cloudy doubts, or languis.h.i.+ng delays; Ere I could range them on the crowded deck, At once a hundred voices thunder'd round me, And ev'ry voice was liberty and Greece.

DEMETRIUS.

Swift let us rush upon the careless tyrant, Nor give him leisure for another crime.

LEONTIUS.

Then let us now resolve, nor idly waste Another hour in dull deliberation.

CALI.

But see, where destin'd to protract our counsels, Comes Mustapha.--Your Turkish robes conceal you.

Retire with speed, while I prepare to meet him With artificial smiles, and seeming friends.h.i.+p.

SCENE V.

CALI, MUSTAPHA.

CALI.

I see the gloom, that low'rs upon thy brow; These days of love and pleasure charm not thee; Too slow these gentle constellations roll; Thou long'st for stars, that frown on human kind, And scatter discord from their baleful beams.

MUSTAPHA.

How blest art thou, still jocund and serene, Beneath the load of business, and of years!

CALI.

Sure, by some wond'rous sympathy of souls, My heart still beats responsive to the sultan's; I share, by secret instinct, all his joys, And feel no sorrow, while my sov'reign smiles.

MUSTAPHA.

The sultan comes, impatient for his love; Conduct her hither; let no rude intrusion Molest these private walks, or care invade These hours, a.s.sign'd to pleasure and Irene.

SCENE VI.

MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA.

MAHOMET.

Now, Mustapha, pursue thy tale of horrour.

Has treason's dire infection reach'd my palace?

Can Cali dare the stroke of heav'nly justice, In the dark precincts of the gaping grave, And load with perjuries his parting soul?

Was it for this, that, sick'ning in Epirus, My father call'd me to his couch of death, Join'd Cali's hand to mine, and falt'ring cried, Restrain the fervour of impetuous youth With venerable Cali's faithful counsels?

Are these the counsels, this the faith of Cali?

Were all our favours lavish'd on a villain?

Confest?--

MUSTAPHA.

Confest by dying Menodorus.

In his last agonies, the gasping coward, Amidst the tortures of the burning steel, Still fond of life, groan'd out the dreadful secret, Held forth this fatal scroll, then sunk to nothing.

MAHOMET. _examining the paper_.

His correspondence with our foes of Greece!

His hand! his seal! The secrets of my soul, Conceal'd from all but him! All, all conspire To banish doubt, and brand him for a villain!

Our schemes for ever cross'd, our mines discover'd, Betray'd some traitor lurking near my bosom.

Oft have I rag'd, when their wide-wasting cannon Lay pointed at our batt'ries yet unform'd, And broke the meditated lines of war.

Detested Cali, too, with artful wonder, Would shake his wily head, and closely whisper, Beware of Mustapha, beware of treason.

MUSTAPHA.

The faith of Mustapha disdains suspicion; But yet, great emperour, beware of treason; Th' insidious ba.s.sa, fir'd by disappointment--

MAHOMET.

Shall feel the vengeance of an injur'd king.

Go, seize him, load him with reproachful chains; Before th' a.s.sembled troops, proclaim his crimes; Then leave him, stretch'd upon the ling'ring rack, Amidst the camp to howl his life away.

MUSTAPHA.

Should we, before the troops, proclaim his crimes, I dread his arts of seeming innocence, His bland address, and sorcery of tongue; And, should he fall, unheard, by sudden justice, Th' adoring soldiers would revenge their idol.

MAHOMET.

Cali, this day, with hypocritick zeal, Implor'd my leave to visit Mecca's temple; Struck with the wonder of a statesman's goodness, I rais'd his thoughts to more sublime devotion.

Now let him go, pursu'd by silent wrath, Meet unexpected daggers in his way, And, in some distant land, obscurely die.

MUSTAPHA.