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CHRIST:
Obdurate spirit! 160
Thou seest but the Past in the To-come.
Pride is thy error and thy punishment.
Boast not thine empire, dream not that thy worlds
Are more than furnace-sparks or rainbow-drops
Before the Power that wields and kindles them. 165
True greatness asks not space, true excellence
Lives in the Spirit of all things that live,
Which lends it to the worlds thou callest thine.

…

MAHOMET:
…Haste thou and fill the waning crescent
With beams as keen as those which pierced the shadow 170
Of Christian night rolled back upon the West,
When the orient moon of Islam rode in triumph
From Tmolus to the Acroceraunian snow.

…

Wake, thou Word
Of God, and from the throne of Destiny 175
Even to the utmost limit of thy way
May Triumph

…

Be thou a curse on them whose creed
Divides and multiplies the most high God.

_________DRAMATIS PERSONAE____________________

MAHMUD.
HASSAN.
DAOOD.
AHASUERUS, A JEW.
CHORUS OF GREEK CAPTIVE WOMEN.
[THE PHANTOM OF MAHOMET II. (OMITTED, EDITION 1822.)]
MESSENGERS, SLAVES, AND ATTENDANTS.

SCENE:
CONSTANTINOPLE.

TIME: SUNSET.

_________________SCENE______________________

A TERRACE ON THE SERAGLIO.
MAHMUD SLEEPING,
AN INDIAN SLAVE SITTING BESIDE HIS COUCH.

 

 CHORUS OF GREEK CAPTIVE WOMEN:
 

 We strew these opiate flowers
 

 On thy restless pillow,--
 

 They were stripped from Orient bowers,
 

 By the Indian billow.
 

 Be thy sleep                    5
 

 Calm and deep,
 

 Like theirs who fell--not ours who weep!
 

INDIAN:
Away, unlovely dreams!
Away, false shapes of sleep
Be his, as Heaven seems, 10
Clear, and bright, and deep!
Soft as love, and calm as death,
Sweet as a summer night without a breath.

CHORUS:
Sleep, sleep! our song is laden
With the soul of slumber; 15
It was sung by a Samian maiden,
Whose lover was of the number
Who now keep
That calm sleep
Whence none may wake, where none shall weep. 20

INDIAN:
I touch thy temples pale!
I breathe my soul on thee!
And could my prayers avail,
All my joy should be
Dead, and I would live to weep, 25
So thou mightst win one hour of quiet sleep.

CHORUS:
Breathe low, low
The spell of the mighty mistress now!
When Conscience lulls her sated snake,
And Tyrants sleep, let Freedom wake. 30
Breathe low–low
The words which, like secret fire, shall flow
Through the veins of the frozen earth–low, low!

SEMICHORUS 1:
Life may change, but it may fly not;
Hope may vanish, but can die not; 35
Truth be veiled, but still it burneth;
Love repulsed,–but it returneth!