VOLTAIRE: 60+ Works in One Volume - Philosophical Writings, Novels, Historical Works, Poetry, Plays & Letters. Вольтер. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Вольтер
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thy savage power

       Deprives at once the best and tenderest hearts

       Of their humanity!

      ZOPIR.

       Alas! Palmira,

       Spite of myself, I feel for thy misfortunes,

       Pity thy weakness, and lament thy fate.

      PALMIRA.

       You will not grant me then——

      ZOPIR.

       I cannot yield thee

       To him who has deceived thy easy heart,

       To a base tyrant; No: thou art a treasure

       Too precious to be parted with, and makest

       This hypocrite but more detested.

      SCENE III.

       Table of Contents

      ZOPIR, PALMIRA, PHANOR.

      ZOPIR.

       Phanor,

       What wouldst thou?

      PHANOR.

       At the city gate that leads

       To Moad’s fertile plain, the valiant Omar

       Is just arrived.

      ZOPIR.

       Indeed; the tyrant’s friend,

       The fierce, vindictive Omar, his new convert,

       Who had so long opposed him, and still fought

       For us!

      PHANOR.

       Perhaps he yet may serve his country,

       Already he hath offered terms of peace;

       Our chiefs have parleyed with him, he demands

       An hostage, and I hear they’ve granted him

       The noble Seid.

      PALMIRA.

       Seid? gracious heaven!

      PHANOR.

       Behold! my lord, he comes.

      ZOPIR.

       Ha! Omar here!

       There’s no retreating now, he must be heard;

       Palmira, you may leave us.—O ye gods

       Of my forefathers, you who have protected

       The sons of Ishmael these three thousand years,

       And thou, O Sun, with all those sacred lights

       That glitter round us, witness to my truth,

       Aid and support me in the glorious conflict

       With proud iniquity!

      SCENE IV.

       Table of Contents

      ZOPIR, OMAR, PHANOR, Attendants.

      ZOPIR.

       At length, it seems,

       Omar returns, after a three years’ absence,

       To visit that loved country which his hand

       So long defended, and his honest heart

       Has now betrayed: deserter of our gods,

       Deserter of our laws, how darest thou thus

       Approach these sacred walls to persecute

       And to oppress; a public robber’s slave;

       What is thy errand? wherefore comest thou hither?

      OMAR.

       To pardon thee: by me our holy prophet,

       In pity to thy age, thy well-known valor,

       And past misfortunes, offers thee his hand:

       Omar is come to bring thee terms of peace.

      ZOPIR.

       And shall a factious rebel offer peace

       Who should have sued for pardon? gracious gods!

       Will ye permit him to usurp your power,

       And suffer Mahomet to rule mankind?

       Dost thou not blush, vile minion as thou art,

       To serve a traitor? hast thou not beheld him

       Friendless and poor, an humble citizen,

       And ranking with the meanest of the throng?

       How little then in fortune or in fame!

      OMAR.

       Thus low and grovelling souls like thine pretend

       To judge of merit, whilst in fortune’s scale

       Ye weigh the worth of men: proud, empty being,

       Dost thou not know that the poor worm which crawls

       Low on the earth, and the imperial eagle

       That soars to heaven, in the all-seeing eye

       Of their eternal Maker are the same,

       And shrink to nothing? men are equal all;

       From virtue only true distinction springs,

       And not from birth: there are exalted spirits

       Who claim respect and honor from themselves

       And not their ancestors: these, these, my lord,

       Are heaven’s peculiar care, and such is he

       Whom I obey, and who alone deserves

       To be a master; all mankind like me

       Shall one day fall before the conqueror’s feet,

       And future ages follow my example.

      ZOPIR.

       Omar, I know thee well; thy artful hand

       In vain hath drawn the visionary portrait;

       Thou mayest deceive the multitude, but know,

       What Mecca worships Zopir can despise:

       Be honest then, and with the impartial eye

       Of reason look on Mahomet; behold him

       But as a mortal, and consider well

       By what base arts the vile impostor rose,

       A camel-driver, a poor abject slave,

       Who first deceived a fond, believing woman,

       And now supported by an idle dream

       Draws in the weak and credulous multitude:

       Condemned to exile, I chastised the rebel

       Too lightly, and his insolence returns

       With double force to punish my indulgence.

       He fled with Fatima from cave to cave,

       And suffered chains, contempt and banishment;

       Meantime the fury which he called divine

       Spread like a subtle poison through the crowd;

       Medina was infected: Omar then,

       To reason’s voice attentive, would have stopped

       The impetuous torrent; he had courage then

       And virtue to attack the proud usurper,

       Though now he crouches to him like a slave.

       If thy proud master be indeed a prophet,

       How didst thou dare to punish him? or why,

       If an impostor,