Poems upon Several Occasions/The British Enchanters/Act 3

by George Granville

ACT III. SCENE I.

Arcalaus and Arcabon meeting.

Arcal. Welcome as after Darkness chearful Light,
Or to the weary Wanderer downy Night:
Smile, smile, O Arcabon, for ever smile,
And with thy gayest Looks reward my Toil:
That sullen Air but ill becomes thee now,
See'st thou not glorious Conquest on my Brow?
Amadis, Amadis——

Arcab.. Dead, or in Chains? Be quick in thy Reply.

Arcal. He lives, my Arcabon, but lives to die.
The gnawing vulture, and the restless Wheel,
Shall be Delight to what the Wretch shall feel.

Arcab. Goddess of dire Revenge, Erinnys rise,
With Pleasure grace thy Lips, with Joy thy Eyes;
Smile like the Queen of Love, and strip the Rocks
Of Pearls and Gems, to deck thy jetty Locks,
With chearful Tunes disguise thy hollow Throat,
And emulate the Lark and Linnet's Note;
Let Envy's self rejoice, Despair be gay,
For Rage and Murder shall triumph to Day.

Arcal. Arise, O Ardan, from the hollow Womb
Of Earth, arise, burst from thy brazen Tomb,

Bear witness to the Vengeance we prepare,
Rejoice, and rest for ever void of Care.

Arcab. Pluto arise, Infernal King release
Thy tortur'd Slaves, and let the damn'd have Peace,
But double all their Pains on Amadis,

Arcal. Mourn all ye Heav'ns, above yon azure Plain
Let Grief abound, and Lamentation reign,
The Thunderer with Tears bedew the Sky,
For Amadis, his Champion's doom to die.

Arcab. Death be my Care: For to compleat his woe,
The Slave shall perish by a Woman's Blow;
Thus each by turns shall his dire Vow fulfill;
'Twas thine to conquer, and 'tis mine to kill.

Arcal. So look'd Medéa, when he Rival Bride,
Upon her nuptial Day, consuming dy'd:
O never more let Love disguise a Face,
By Rage adorn'd with such triumphant Grace.

Arcab. In sweet Revenge inferior Joys are lost,
And Love lyes shipwrack'd on the stormy Coast;
Rage rules all other Passions in my Breast,
And swelling like a Torrent, drowns the rest.
Should this curst Wretch, whom most my Soul abhors,
Prove the dear Man whom most my Soul adores,
Love shou'd in vain defend him with his Dart,
Thro' all his Charms I'd stab him to the Heart.

[Exeunt

SCENE II.

Enter Constantius, Celius, Lucius a Roman, and Guard of Britons.

Con. Refus'd a Safeguard, menac'd and confin'd!
Do Royal Guests no better Usage find?
Are these the Customs of the British Court?
Here only then let Beasts, not Men, resort.
This Treatment, Briton, from another Man———

Cel. It is my Will, and help it as you can.
From Contracts sign'd, and Articles agreed,
With British Faith it suits not to recede:
How may the World interpret such Neglect,
And on her Beauty, or her Fame, reflect?
Roman, consider well what Course you run,
Resolve to be my Prisoner, or my Son.
If this sounds rude, then know, we Britons slight$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
The supple Arts that Foreigners delight,
Nor stand on Forms to vindicate our Right.

[Exit King Celius.

Luc. Happy Extremity! now, Prince, be blest,
Of all you love, and all you wish, possest;
No Censure you incur, constrain'd to chuse,
Possest at once of Pleasure and Excuse.

Con. If for my self alone I would possess,
'Twere sensual Joy, and brutal Happiness:

When most we love, embracing and embrac'd, $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
The Particle sublime of Bliss, is plac'd
In Raptures that we feel the ravish'd Charmer taste.
Oriana, no———tho' certain Death it be,
I'll keep my Word———I'll die, or set thee free.
Haste Lucius, haste, sound loud our Trumpets, call
Our Guard to Arms, tho' few, they're Romans all.
Now tremble, savage King, a Roman Hand
Shall ne'er be bound, that can a Sword command.

As they go off, re-enter Celius hastily, attended as before.

Cel. Not to be found! she must, she shall be found—
Disperse our Parties, search our Kingdoms round,
Follow Constantius, seize him, torture, kill;
Traitor! What Vengeance I can have, I will.
Well have thy Gods, O Rome, secur'd thy Peace,
Planted behind so many Lands and Seas,
Or thou should'st feel me, City, in thy Fall,
More dreadful than the Samnite or the Gaul.
But to supply and recompence this Want,
Hear, O ye Guardians of our Isle, and grant
That Wrath may rise, and Strife immortal come
Betwixt the Gods of Britain, and of Rome.

[Exit.

The scene changes to a Scene of Tombs and Dungeons; Men
and Women chain'd in Rows opposite to each other; in the
Front of the Captives Florestan and Corisanda. A Guard
of Dæmons. Plaintive Musick.

To be sung by a Captive King.

Look down, ye Pow'rs, look down,
And cast a pitying Eye
Upon a Monarch's Misery.
Look down, look down.
I who but now, on Thrones of Gold,
Gave Laws to Kingdoms uncontroul'd,
To Empire born,
From Empire torn,
A wretched Slave,
A wretched Slave,
Am now of Slaves the Scorn.

Alas! the Smiles of Fortune prove
As variable as Womens Love.
Look down, ye Pow'rs, look down,
And cast a pitying Eye,
Upon a Monarch's Misery.
Look down, look down,
Avenge affronted Majesty,
Avenge, avenge, avenge,
Affronted Majesty.

By a Captive Lover.

 The happy'st Mortals once were we,
I lov’d Myra, Myra me;
Each desirous of the Blessing,
Nothing wanting but Possessing;
I lov’d Myra, Myra me,
The happy's Mortals once were we.
 
But since cruel Fates dissever,
Torn from Love, and torn for ever,
Tortures end me,
Death befriend me:
Of all Pains, the greatest Pain
Is to love, and love in vain.

By a Captive Libertine.

I.

Plague us not with idle Stories,

Whining Loves, and senseless Glories;
What are Lovers, what are Kings,
What at best but slavish Things?

II.

Free I liv'd as Nature made me,

Love nor Beauty durst invade me,

No rebellious Slaves betray'd me,
Free I liv'd as Nature made me.

III.

Each by Turns, as Sense inspir'd me,

Bacchus, Ceres, Venus fir'd me;
I alone have lost true Pleasure.
Freedom is the only Treasure.

Chorus of Dæmons, expressing Horror and Despair.

Cease, ye Slaves, your fruitless Grieving,
No, no,
The Powers below
No Pity know,
Cease, ye Slaves, your fruitless Grieving:
No, no,
The Powers below.
No Pity know,
Cease, ye Slaves, your fruitless Grieving.

Flor. to Cor. To taste of Pain, and yet
to gaze on thee,
To meet, and yet to mourn, but ill agree.
Well may the Brave contend, the Wise contrive,
In vain against their Stars the destin'd strive.

Cor. So to th' appointed Grove, the feather'd Pair
Fly chirping on, unwatchful of the Snare,
Pursuing Love, and wing'd with am'rous Thought,
The wanton Couple in one Toil are caught,

In the same Cage in mournful Notes complain
Of the same Fate, and curse perfidious Men.

Captives. O Heav'ns, take Pity of our Pains,
Let Death give Freedom from our Chains.

Flourish of Instruments of Horror. Enter Arcabon with a
Dagger in her Hand, attended by infernal Spirits.

Arcab. Your Vows have reach'd the Gods, your Chains and Breath
Have the same Date——
Prepare for Freedom, for I bring you Death.
He who so oft has 'scap'd th' Assaults of Hell,$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
Whom yet no Spells cou'd bind, no Force cou'd quell,
By whom so many bold Enchanters fell,
Amadis, Amadis, this joyful Day,
Your Guardian Deity himself's our Prey.
From all their Dungeons let our Captives come,
Idle Spectators of their Hero's Doom.

[Other Dungeons open, and discover more Captives
in Chains.

Cor. On me, on me, let ev'ry Vengeance fall,
Make me the Victim to atone for all.

Flor. Rather on me let all your Fury bend,
But save, O save my Mistress and my Friend.

Arcab. As soon the Lioness shall starve, to spare
Her Prey—Behold the Sacrifice appear.

[A Traverse is drawn discovering Amadis in Chains.
Arcabon advancing hastily to stab him, starts and stops.

Thou dy's——What strange and what resistless Charm,
With secret Force, arrests my lifted Arm?
What art thou, who with more than Magick Art
Dost make my Hand unfaithful to my Heart?"

Amad. One, who disdaining Mercy, sues to die;
I ask not Life, for Life were Cruelty.
Of all the Wretched, search the World around,
A more unhappy never can be found;
Let loose thy Rage, like an avenging God,
Fain wou'd my Soul encumber'd cast her Load.

Arcab. In ev'ry Feature of that charming Face,
The dear Enchanter of my Soul I trace:

[Aside, observing him.

My Brother! had my Father too been kill'd,

Nay, my whole Race, his Blood should not be spill'd.
The Tyes of Nature do but weakly move,
The strongest Tye of Nature, is in Love.

[Stands gazing upon him.

Amad. O Florestan! I see those Chains with Shame,
Which I cou'd not prevent——O Stain to Fame!
O Honour lost for ever! Theseus fell,
But Hercules remain'd unconquer'd still,

And freed his Friend —— What Man cou'd do, I did,
Nor was I overpower'd, but betray'd.
O my lov'd Friend! with better Grace we stood
In Arms repelling Death, wading in Blood
To Victories; the manly Limb that trod
Firm and erect, beneath a treble Load
Of pond'rous Mail, these shameful Bonds disdains,
And sinks beneath th' inglorious Weight of Chains.

Flox. Where shall the Brave and Good for Refuge run
When to be virtuous is to be undone?
Sure Jupiter's depos'd, some Giant rules
An impious World, contriv'd for Knaves and Fools.

Arcab. He Spoke, and ev'ry Accent to my Heart
Gave a fresh Wound, and was another Dart:
He weeps——but reddens at the Tears that fall——
Is it for these? Be quick, and free 'em all.

[Throws away her Dagger.

Let ev'ry Captive be releas'd from Chains:

How is it that I love, if he complains?
Hence ev'ry Grief, and ev'ry anxious Care,
Mix with the Seas and Winds, raise Tempests there:
Strike all your Strings, to joyful Measures move,
And ev'ry Voice found Liberty and Love.

[Flourish of all the Musick, The Captives are set at
Liberty. Arcabon frees Amadis her self.

SONG.

Liberty! Liberty!
Ah how sweet is Liberty!
Arm, arm, the gen'rous Britons cry,
Let us live free, or let us die,
Trumpets sounding, Banners flying,
Braving Tyrants, Chains defying,
Arm, arm, the gen'rous Britons cry,
Let us live free, or let us die,
Liberty! Liberty!

Another Voice.

Happy Isle, all joys possessing,
Clime resembling Heav'n above,
Freedom 'tis that crowns thy Blessing,
Land of Liberty, and Love!
When the Nymphs, to cure Complaining,
Set themselves and Lovers free,
In the Blessing of Obtaining,
Ah! how sweet is Liberty!

Fifth Dance of Captives.

Florestan and Corisanda run into each other's Arms.

Flor. In this enchanting Circle let me be,
For ever and for ever bound with thee.

Cor. Life of my Life, and Charmer of my Heart;
From these Embraces let us never part.

Flor. Never, O never——In some safe Retreat,
Far from the Noise and Tumults of the Great,
Secure and happy on each other's Breast,
Within each other's Arms we'll ever rest;
These Eyes shall make my Days serene and bright;
These Arms, thus circling round me, bless the Night.

Arcabon advances with Amadis, the rest stand in Rows,
bowing as they advance.

Arcab. When Rage like mine makes such a sudden Pause
Methinks 'twere easie to divine the Cause:
Soldiers, tho' rough, may in a Lady's Face
The secret Meaning of her Blushes trace,
When short-breath'd Sighs, and catching Glances, sent
From dying Eyes, reveal the kind Intent.
All Day in War's rude Hazards take Delight,
But Love and gentler Pleasures rule the Night.

Amad. The Lords of Fate, who all our Lots decree,
Have destin'd Fame no other Joy for me,
My sullen Stars in that one Circle move,
The happy only are ordain'd for Love.

Arcab. The Stars that you reproach, my Art can force,
I can direct 'em to a kinder Course.
What conquer'd Nations, driven from the Field,
Can please your Pride, like tender Maids that yield?
What Sound so sweet or ravishing, can move
Like the soft Whisper of consenting Love?
What Spoils of Fame, what Trophies have the Charms
Of Love, triumphant in a Virgin's Arms?
Freely as Nature made the Traesure mine,
And boldly rifle all, each Gem is thine,
Unguarded see the Maiden Casket stand,
Glad of the Theft, to court the Robber's Hand;
Honour his wonted Watch no longer keeps,
Seize quickly, Soldier, while the Dragon sleeps.

Amad. Enchanting are your Looks, less Magick lyes
In your mysterious Art, than in your Eyes;
Such melting Language claims a soft Return,
Pity the hopeless Love with which I burn:
Fast bound already, and not free to chuse,
I prize the Biessing which I must refuse.

Arcab. Those formal Lovers be for ever curst,
Who fetter'd free-born Love with Honour first,

[Turning angrily aside.

Who thro' fantastick Laws are Virtue's Fools,

And against Nature will be Slaves to Rules.
How cold he stands! Unkindling at my Charms!

[Observing him.

Thou Rock of Ice, I'll melt thee in my Arms. [To him gently.

Your Captive, Friends have Freedom from this Hour;
Rejoyce for them, but for thy self much more:
Sublimer Blessings are reserv'd for thee,
Whom Glory calls to be posseft of me.
The Shipwrackt Greeks, cast on Ææa's Shore,
With trembling Steps the dubious Coast explore;
Who first arrive, unworthy of Regard,
In vain lament, unpity'd and unheard:
But when Ulysses with Majestick Mein
Approach'd the Throne, where sat th' Enchantress Queen;
Pleas'd with a Presence that invades her Charms,
She takes the bold Advent'rer in her Arms,
Up to her Bed fhe leads the Conqu'ror on,
Where he enjoys the Daughter of the Sun.

[She leads Amadis out. Florestan and Corisanda go off
together, looking back with Concern after Amadis. The
remaining Captives express their Joy for Liberty, with
Songs and Dances, with which the Act concludes.

CHORUS.

I.

To Fortune give immortal Praise;

Fortune deposes, and can raise;
Fortune the Captives Chains does break,
And brings despairing Exiles back;
However low this Hour we fall,
One lucky Moment may mend all.

II.

'Tis Fortune governs all below:

The Statesman's Wiles, the Gamester's Throw,
The Soldier's Fame, the Merchant's Gains,
The Lover's Joy, the Prisoner's Chains,
Are but as Fortune shall bestow;
'Tis Fortune governs all below.

Sixth Dance of Captives to the Chorus.

[Exeunt.]