CARAZA. 
In that black day, when slaughter’d thousands fell
Around these fatal walls, the tide of war
Bore me victorious onward, where Demetrius
Tore, unresisted, from the giant hand
Of stern Sebalias, the triumphant crescent,
And dash’d the might of Asam from the ramparts. 
There I became, nor blush to make it known,
The captive of his sword.  The coward Greeks,
Enrag’d by wrongs, exulting with success,
Doom’d me to die with all the Turkish captains;
But brave Demetrius scorn’d the mean revenge,
And gave me life.—­

HASAN. 
Do thou repay the gift,
Lest unrewarded mercy lose its charms. 
Profuse of wealth, or bounteous of success,
When heav’n bestows the privilege to bless,
Let no weak doubt the gen’rous hand restrain;
For when was pow’r beneficent in vain? [Exeunt.

ACT V.—­SCENE I.

ASPASIA, sola.

In these dark moments of suspended fate,
While yet the future fortune of my country
Lies in the womb of providence conceal’d,
And anxious angels wait the mighty birth;
O! grant thy sacred influence, pow’rful virtue! 
Attentive rise, survey the fair creation,
Till, conscious of th’ encircling deity,
Beyond the mists of care thy pinion tow’rs. 
This calm, these joys, dear innocence! are thine: 
Joys ill exchang’d for gold, and pride, and empire.

[Enter Irene and attendants.

SCENE II.

ASPASIA, IRENE and attendants.

IRENE. 
See how the moon, through all th’ unclouded sky,
Spreads her mild radiance, and descending dews
Revive the languid flow’rs; thus nature shone
New from the maker’s hand, and fair array’d
In the bright colours of primeval spring;
When purity, while fraud was yet unknown,
Play’d fearless in th’ inviolated shades. 
This elemental joy, this gen’ral calm,
Is, sure, the smile of unoffended heav’n. 
Yet! why—­

MAID. 
Behold, within th’ embow’ring grove
Aspasia stands—­

IRENE. 
With melancholy mien,
Pensive, and envious of Irene’s greatness. 
Steal, unperceiv’d, upon her meditations
But see, the lofty maid, at our approach,
Resumes th’ imperious air of haughty virtue. 
Are these th’ unceasing joys, th’ unmingled pleasures,
[To Aspasia. 
For which Aspasia scorn’d the Turkish crown? 
Is this th’ unshaken confidence in heav’n? 
Is this the boasted bliss of conscious virtue? 
When did content sigh out her cares in secret? 
When did felicity repine in deserts?

ASPASIA. 
Ill suits with guilt the gaieties of triumph;
When daring vice insults eternal justice,
The ministers of wrath forget compassion,
And snatch the flaming bolt with hasty hand.

IRENE. 
Forbear thy threats, proud prophetess of ill,
Vers’d in the secret counsels of the sky.