THE

RETURN OF THE DRUSES.

A Tragedy.

PLACE, An Islet of the Southern Sporades, colonized by Druses of Lebanon, and garrisoned by the Knights-Hospitallers of Rhodes. SCENE, A Hall in the Prefect's Palace.

ACT I.

Enter stealthily KARSHOOK, RAGHIB, AYOOB, and other initiated Druses, each as he enters casting off a robe that conceals his distinctive black vest and white turban; then, as giving a loose to exultation,

Kar. The moon is carried off in purple fire: Day breaks at last! Break glory, with the day, On Djabal's dread incarnate mystery

Now ready to resume its pristine shape
Of Hakeem, as the Khalib vanished erst

In what seemed death to uninstructed eyes,
On red Mokattam's verge—our Founder's flesh,
As he resumes our Founder's function!

Ragh.

Sweep to the Christian Prefect that enslaved

So long us sad Druse exiles o'er the sea!

- Death

Ay. Most joy be thine, O Mother-mount! Thy brood Returns to thee, no outcasts as we left;

But thus-but thus! Behind, our Prefect's corse;
Before, a presence like the morning-thine,

Absolute Djabal late,-God Hakeem now
That day breaks!

Kar.

Off then, with disguise at last!
As from our forms this hateful garb we strip,
Lose every tongue its glozing accent too,
Discard each limb the ignoble gesture! Cry,
'Tis the Druse Nation, warders on our mount
Of the world's secret, since the birth of time,
-No kindred slips, no offsets from thy stock,
No spawn of Christians are we, Prefect, we
Who rise...

Ay.

Ragh.

Who shout...

Who seize, a first-fruits, ha

Spoil of the spoiler ! Brave!

[They begin to tear down, and to dispute for, the decorations

Kar.

of the Hall.

Hold !

Ay.

And mine shall it continue!

Kar.

-Mine, I say,;

Just this fringe!

Take anything beside! Lo, spire on spire,
Curl serpentwise wreathed columns to the top
Of the roof, and hide themselves mysteriously
Among the twinkling lights and darks that haunt
Yon cornice! Where the huge veil, they suspend
Before the Prefect's Chamber of delight,
Floats wide, then falls again (as if its slave,
The scented air, took heart now, and anon
Lost heart, to buoy its breadths of gorgeousness
Above the gloom they droop in)—all the porch
Is jewelled o'er with frost-work charactery;
And see yon eight-point cross of white flame, winking
Hoar-silvery like some fresh-broke marble-stone:
Raze out the Rhodian's Cross there, so thou leav'st me
This single fringe!

Ay.

Ha, wouldst thou, dog-fox? Help! -Three handbreadths of gold fringe, my son was set To twist, the night he died!

Kar.

Nay, hear the knave!

And I could witness my one daughter borne,

A week since, to the Prefect's couch, yet fold
These arms, be mute, lest word of mine should mar
Our Master's work, delay the Prefect here

A day, prevent his sailing hence for Rhodes-
How know I else?-Hear me denied my right
By such a knave!