CHARACTERS.

MEN.

GIAFFIR, Pacha of Anatolia, father of Zuleika.
OSMAN BEY, his intended son-in-law.

SELIM, nephew of the Pacha, but adopted as his son.
HAROUN, first slave, or keeper of the Haram.

AZIR, Tchocadar, or attendant on Osman.

HASSAN, a piratical Moor.

Officers of the Pachalic, Slaves of the Haram, Guards, Attendants, &c.

Scene, Anatolia near Abydos.

Time, that of the action, or within twelve hours.

SELIM AND ZULEIKA.

A Tragedy.

ACT 1.

SCENE I. A chamber in the Haram, or palace of Giaffir. SELIM, after some convulsive throes, starts from a couch and comes forward.

Sel. The day's far risen-I'll court repose no longer. Heard I not some sound, was it not a voice, some footstep? It was but delusion all-the distempered offspring of a feverish soul, whose fires so fiercely burn, that not the aromatic breeze which steals its odors from a land of sweets can soothe-whose all-consuming care can hear the bird of night, yet feel no relief. I'm not deceivedsome one approaches.

[Enter HAROUN.]

Har. Youth, 'tis well at length we've met. Since the first tambour beat, in vain I've sought thee.

Sel. "Twas long ere that, all sleep denied, with many thoughts oppressed, and deeming the dreary night to pass too slow, I sought Zuleika's chamber. (Haroun starts) Nay, why start'st thou, old man, have I not that privilege, am I not her brother?

Har. True-I forgot-thou art her brother certainly. (with emphasis, and looking with inquiring stedfastness on Selim.)

Sel. Come, come, (with affected indifference) thou know'st after all, 'tis not so. Thou art the Pacha's slave and bound to keep his counsel; but Rumor, that fears not his bow-string, has less reserve.

Har. Thy words astound me.

Sel. At that I marvel not. Within the precincts of a tyrant's walls, 'tis not oft that language dare assume so bold a flight. Be no longer deceived, I know my story.

Har. (much agitated, turns aside for a moment, then) Thou know'st thy story? Deluded youth! what canst thou know but that thou art the son of the Pacha Giaffir, his only son?

Sel. I'll tell thee briefly-there lives not a peasant in all Romelia but knows the contrary-why there, the tale has almost become a fable to woo the traveller's ear, while from the noon-tide sun he seeks the covert of some kindly shade. Dost not remember, Haroun ? yes, yes, thou must, for 'twas but at the close of last Rammezan, when the Pacha left his home to seek with confederate chiefs our Sultan's foes on Widin's plains

Har. 'Tis not forgot.

Sel. His serai, and all within its walls, was left entrusted to thy keeping.

Har. Youth, proceed-I list attentively.

Sel. 'Twas then I won upon thy soul. Thy tenderness could not withstand my boyish importunity-thou gav'st me liberty and life

Har. Alas! the fatal hour-would I had not. (aside and agitated.)

Sel. And like the feathered young, when first it quits its parent's nest to essay its wing in flight, I flew-I soareda world my own!-O'er earth, ocean, sun, and sky, my rapt fancy roamed. E'en man, my fellow, seemed formed anew, or such as I had never seen before. In the first phrenzy of my joy all seemed forgot-And for once, forgive it, Heaven! Zuleika's power was gone! Now mark the sequel.

Har. I do.

Sel. I quickly sought the strand, whence the shallop of a trusty Moor soon bore me to those isles of deathless story, of which I oft had heard, but ne'er before could reach. On one of these, it matters little which, and still less how, by an ancient dervish, journeying to other lands, was my tale revealed. 'Twere tedious and out of place to tell it thee. (with indifference.)

Har. The curse of the Prophet await such ill-timed loquacity! (aside.)

Sel. My hour of liberty expired, to thy charge once more I bent my steps-but oh! how measured, heavy, and slow, were such, compared to those with which I went.