Chapter 31

ISMERON _asleep.--Enter_ ZEMPOALLA.

_Zemp_. Ho, Ismeron, Ismeron! He stirs not; ha, in such a dismal cell Can gentle sleep with his soft blessings dwell? Must I feel tortures in a human breast, While beasts and monsters can enjoy their rest? What quiet they possess in sleep's calm bliss! The lions cease to roar, the snakes to hiss, While I am kept awake, Only to entertain my miseries. Or if a slumber steal upon my eyes, Some horrid dream my labouring soul benumbs And brings fate to me sooner than it comes. Fears most oppress when sleep has seized upon The outward parts, and left the soul alone. What envied blessings these cursed things enjoy! Next to possess, 'tis pleasure to destroy. Ismeron! ho, Ismeron, Ismeron! [_Stamps_.

_Ism_. Who's that, that with so loud and fierce a call Disturbs my rest?

_Zemp_. She, that has none at all, Nor ever must, unless thy powerful art Can charm the passions of a troubled heart.

_Ism_. How can you have a discontented mind, To whom the gods have lately been so kind?

_Zemp_. Their envious kindness how can I enjoy, When they give blessings, and the use destroy?

_Ism_. Dread empress, tell the cause of all your grief; If art can help, be sure of quick relief.

_Zemp_. I dreamed, before the altar that I led A mighty lion in a twisted thread; I shook to hold him in so slight a tie, Yet had not power to seek a remedy: When, in the midst of all my fears, a clove, With hovering wings, descended from above, Flew to the lion, and embraces spread, With wings, like clasping arms, about his head, Making that murmuring noise that cooing doves Use, in the soft expression of their loves; While I, fixed by my wonder, gazed to see So mild a creature with so fierce agree: At last the gentle dove turned from his head, And, pecking, tried to break the slender thread, Which instantly she severed, and released From that small bond the fierce and mighty beast, Who presently turned all his rage on me, And, with his freedom, brought my destiny.

_Ism_. Dread empress, this strange vision you relate Is big with wonder, and too full of fate, Without the god's assistance, to expound. In those low regions, where sad night hangs round The drowsy vaults, and where moist vapours steep The god's dull brows, that sways the realm of sleep; There all the informing elements repair, Swift messengers of water, fire, and air, To give account of actions, whence they came, And how they govern every mortal frame; How, from their various mixture, or their strife, Are known the calms and tempests of our life: Thence souls, when sleep their bodies overcome, Have some imperfect knowledge of their doom. From those dark caves those powers shall strait appear; Be not afraid, whatever shapes they wear.

_Zemp_. There's nothing, thou canst raise, can make me start; A living form can only shake my heart.

_Ism_. _You twice ten hundred deities, To whom we daily sacrifice; You powers, that dwell with fate below, And see what men are doomed to do; Where elements in discord dwell; Thou god of sleep, arise and tell Great Zempoalla what strange fate Must on her dismal vision wait._

_Zemp_. How slow these spirits are! Call, make them rise, Or they shall fast from flame and sacrifice.

_Ism_. Great empress, Let not your rage offend what we adore, And vainly threaten, when we must implore. Sit silently, and attend-- While my powerful charms I end.

_By the croaking of the toad, In their caves that make abode; Earthy Dun that pants for breath, With her swelled sides full of death; By the crested adders' pride, That along the clifts do glide; By thy visage fierce and black; By the death's-head on thy back; By the twisted serpents placed For a girdle round thy waist; By the hearts of gold that deck Thy breast, thy shoulders, and thy neck: From thy sleepy mansion rise, And open thy unwilling eyes, While bubbling springs their music keep, That use to lull thee in thy sleep._

_God of Dreams rises_.

_God_. Seek not to know what must not be revealed; Joys only flow where fate is most concealed: Too busy man would find his sorrows more, If future fortunes he should know before; For, by that knowledge of his destiny, He would not live at all, but always die. Enquire not, then, who shall from bonds be freed, Who 'tis shall wear a crown, and who shall bleed: All must submit to their appointed doom; Fate and misfortune will too quickly come: Let me no more with powerful charms be pressed; I am forbid by fate to tell the rest.

[_The god descends_.

_Zemp_. Stay, cozener, thou, that hat'st clear truth like light, And usest words dark as thy own dull night. You tyrant gods, do you refuse to free The soul, you gave, from its perplexity? Why should we in your mercies still believe, When you can never pity, though we grieve? For you have bound yourselves by harsh decrees; And those, not you, are now the deities. [_Sits down sad_.

_Ism_. She droops under the weight of rage and care: You spirits, that inhabit in the air, With all your powerful charms of music, try To bring-her soul back to its harmony.

SONG SUNG BY AERIAL SPIRITS.

_Poor mortals, that are clogged with earth below, Sink under love and care, While we, that dwell in air, Such heavy passions never know. Why then should mortals be Unwilling to be free From blood, that sullen cloud, Which shining souls does shroud? Then they'll shew bright, And like us light, When leaving bodies with their care, They slide to us and air_.

_Zemp_. Death on these trifles! Cannot your art find Some means, to ease the passions of the mind? Or, if you cannot give a lover rest, Can you force love into a scornful breast?

_Ism_. Tis reason only can make passions less; Art gives not new, but may the old increase; Nor can it alter love in any breast, That is with other flames before possessed.

_Zemp_. If this be all your slighted arts can do, I'll kindle other flames, since I must burn, And all their temples into ashes turn.

_Ism_. Great queen--

_Zemp. If you would have this sentence staid, Summon their godheads quickly to your aid, And presently compose a charm, that may Love's flames into the stranger's breast convey, The captive stranger, he whose sword and eyes Wheree'er they strike, meet ready victories: Make him but burn for me, in flames like mine, Victims shall bleed, and feasted altars shine: If not-- Down go your temples, and your gods shall see They have small use of their divinity. [_Exeunt_.