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ZAMBA, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE INSURRECTION. 
 
ZAMBA, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE INSURRECTION. 
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM, 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS 
 
 BY 
 
 Mrs. ELIZABETH RICORD, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " ELEMENTS OP THE PHILOSOPHY OP MIND APPLIED 
 TO THE DEVELOPMENT OP THOUGHT AND FEELING." 
 
 ■P Vi',- 
 
 / 
 
 CAMBRIDGE: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JOHN OWEN. 
 
 1842. 
 
 :^^ 
 '^•> 
 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1842, by 
 
 Elizabeth Ricord, 
 
 in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the Eastern District of 
 
 Pennsylvania. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : 
 
 METCALF, KEITH, AND NICHOLS, 
 
 PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This Drama was sketched during" a residence of several 
 years in the West Indies, where the action is supposed 
 to take place. Making allowance for poetic embellish- 
 ment, it is, except in one circumstance, founded on 
 facts connected with individual history. The piece, 
 having been imagined, and even traced out, at least 
 twenty years ago, such as it is now presented to the 
 public, has no relation to the sentiments on the subject 
 of slavery, that, of late, have excited such interest in 
 our republic. My design in the selection of this sub- 
 ject was, when I commenced this drama, and still is,- 
 to exhibit the influence that Evangelical Christianity 
 might exercise over all classes of society, from the 
 highest station of arrogant affluence, to the lowest stage 
 of degraded poverty. 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 It may be necessary to state, that many of the 
 Planters in the French Islands are from the ex-nobility 
 of that nation, and, with then: titles, preserve an aristo- 
 cratical stateliness, in their domestic establishments, in 
 keeping with such rank. The circumstance of exer- 
 cising unlimited control over so many abject dependents, 
 together with a total want of even the semblance of 
 religious principle, renders them exceedingly despotic. 
 In these Islands, neither the sanctity nor the rest of the 
 Sabbath is observed ; but on that day the slaves usually 
 work in the grounds allotted them as their own pro- 
 vision gardens, or sell their available merchandise. On 
 some plantations, the indolent are obliged, even by 
 stripes, thus to labor for themselves. They are taught 
 nothing of the duties springing from Christianity, al- 
 though some of the ceremonies of Catholicism are - ob- 
 served by the slaves. These poor degraded people, as 
 may well be supposed, are superstitious and often very 
 corrupt. Those who are from Africa, sometimes mingle 
 their Fetish or heathen customs with false notions of 
 the Christian religion. Hence the use of charms and 
 poison with a blind reverence of what they esteem 
 supernatural power in some impostor among them. 
 
PREFACE. 7 
 
 This person is commonly an artful, intelligent negro 
 man or woman, who, obtaining a knowledge of plants, 
 uses them with mischievous intent, for gain, malice, or 
 revenge. 
 
 The practice of administering poison to the most 
 valuable slaves on an estate, as well as to the cattle, 
 is not uncommon, and the punishment which succeeds 
 is often terribly cruel. The suspected are not un- 
 frequently tortured to extort confession. Cases of this 
 kind fell, most painfully, under my own observation. 
 The instigator to this mischief was sometimes the most 
 favored slave. 
 
 Zamba, who is represented so passionate, tender, 
 and elevated, is a character nevertheless true to na- 
 ture. In those Islands, native Africans are sometimes 
 seen, beautiful in person, proud in bearing, delicate in 
 tenderness, and of surprising acuteness of intellect. 
 One such, of princely rank, I knew, from the Mendi 
 country. The belief expressed by Zaraba, of meet- 
 ing after death the spirit of his wife upon the waters, 
 and their return to their own country, is a Mendian 
 superstition ; suicide is ofttimes its consequence. 
 
 That Nature has her noblemen among every race of 
 
8 PREFACE. 
 
 the human family, who can doubt ? Even in the most 
 degraded rank, — the rank of the slave, — is sometimes 
 found a soul more free and noble than many a one in- 
 habiting the form of royalty. St. Cloud was the slave 
 and valet of a rich planter, when the French Revolution 
 overthrew the rank, and confiscated the property, of the 
 rich and high-born in the territories of France. In 
 this, one of the richest of its Islands, the slaves, de- 
 clared free by the Convention, were embodied in the 
 army, and many fine estates were apportioned among 
 them. St. Cloud, who was a brave and fine fellow, re- 
 ceived a commission in the army and a plantation ; 
 while his aged master was stripped both of rank and 
 property, and left, without a family, in a most destitute 
 and pitiable condition. St. Cloud came to his assistance, 
 allotted to him from his own means a pension as long 
 as he lived ; and even, it is said, bestowed upon his 
 poor and feeble master, each morning, the service which 
 he had been accustomed in the days of his slavery to 
 render, — the service of a valet. St. Cloud was per- 
 sonally known to me as a most respectable planter. 
 
 The Insurrection, upon which the plot of this Dramatic 
 Poem is founded, occurred many years ago in the Island 
 
PREFACE. 9 
 
 of Martinique. A providential discovery on the eve of 
 the intended massacre, saved the inhabitants of a popu- 
 lous city from sudden destruction. Ambition in two 
 master spirits, one a Haytian negro, the other a free 
 mulatto, nearly resulted in a catastrophe, the thought of 
 which, filled those who must have been its victims, with 
 horror. 
 
 During the reign of Louis the Eighteenth, the peri- 
 od of the supposed action of this Drama, Romanism 
 having revived in France, intolerance of the Protestant 
 faitli was renewed. The idea, therefore, of a missionary 
 being at that time established in one of its Islands, is 
 entirely fictitious. Could this however have been true, 
 no doubt the treatment he might have received from 
 many of the planters, would be analogous to what is here 
 imagined. A private proposal was at that period made 
 from proper authority, in the City of New York, to 
 sound them on the subject of a mission from a society 
 there, and this answer was returned by one of the best 
 educated and freest from sectarian prejudice, " God for- 
 bid that the American Republic should here dissemi- 
 nate its religious and political opinions ! We cannot ad- 
 mit them." In this sentiment, perhaps worldly policy had 
 
10 PREFACE. 
 
 even a greater share than papacy itself. Each proprietor, 
 being in effect a petty sovereign, exercised, on his own 
 domain, a power uncontrolled by the civil government, 
 even over the lives of his slaves : it was for this cause 
 they dreaded the influence of our liberal principles, and 
 not on account of their own religious sentiments. Few 
 of the higher classes professed any better religion than 
 that of Voltaire, but from many minds Evangelical Chris- 
 tianity drew forth high approval. "Mother," said a 
 planter in my hearing, to his parent, " you have the same 
 ten commandments that Protestants obey ; why then do 
 you on Sunday go from mass to the card table, and spend 
 the remainder of the day in amusement? They act 
 consistently with their profession when they keep the 
 whole day sacredly, you Catholics do not. I make no 
 profession, and do as I please." , 
 
 But even in those dark habitations of cruelty, there 
 are souls that would receive the Word of Truth, were it 
 presented to them, as the hungry would receive bread. 
 Louise Soubiese, La bonne Louise^ as she was called, 
 was a free mulatto woman. Having received from me a 
 French Testament, she came, some time after, with the 
 expression of her thanks. "Ah," said she, "how I desire 
 
PREFACE. 11 
 
 the whole Bible ! My son," she added, " says it must 
 be a Divine Book, for since he has read it, he dares no 
 longer indulge in the passions and actions he formerly 
 thought right. He fears the judgments of God." She 
 
 said the ladies De L had borrowed her Testament, 
 
 and were so delighted with it, she could scarce obtain a 
 sight of it, and ended by expressing her ardent desire to 
 procure the Word of God entire. Poor Louise ! I cannot 
 refrain from giving my testimony to worth rarely met 
 with, in any land, or among people of any color. Sin- 
 cerely did I lament, that I had not a spare copy of the 
 Bible in the tongue she understood ; all I carried having 
 been distributed. Affecting instances of this thirst for 
 the Water of Life might be mentioned ; may heavenly 
 showers soon fall upon this barren and desolate region ! 
 
 Having occasionally, through the solicitation of friends, 
 published short portions of this Poem, though not in 
 dramatic form, I am encouraged, from their successful 
 reception, to oifer to the public the entire Drama. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Philadelphia, May 1, 1842. 
 
DRAMATIS PEE-SONiE. 
 
 The Count de Nouville, a Planter. 
 Augustus, Count Clermont^ Ward of De JVouville. 
 Mr. Lawton, a Protestant Missionary. 
 Zamba, an African Prince, now Stave of De JVouville. 
 Alphonse, a free Mulatto in the service of the Baroness 
 of Belfont. 
 
 Baroness of Belfont, aunt of Augustus. 
 Zelia, daughter of Count De JVouville. 
 Nora, attendant on Zelia. 
 Servants, Slaves, &c. 
 
 SCENE laid in an Island of the West Indies. 
 
Z A M B A. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. Seashore : a declivity extending to the 
 shore, covered with trees and flowering shrubs. A 
 large and low mansion appears on the summit of 
 the hill, a cottage below it, near the sea. Sunrise. 
 ZELiA (^descending the hill). 
 How fresh and calm is nature at this hour ! 
 Covered with gems of morn, the opening buds 
 Send forth their fragrant incense to young day. 
 A golden cloud hangs o'er the azure flood, 
 Unruffled by the breeze. Glorious the light 
 That sudden bursts upon the deep dark wave ! 
 Now a molten mirror. Flashing it strikes 
 From peak to peak of yonder mountain, clad 
 
14 ZAMBA. [Act T. 
 
 In the fleece of heaven. The looms of Tyre, drapery 
 So rich, ne'er gave to couch of royalty. 
 
 {She sings.) 
 
 SOKG. 
 See round yon mountain's lofty brow 
 
 The varying clouds at play ; 
 Of every changing hue and shape 
 
 Tinged by the orb of day. 
 Upon that mountain's sunny side 
 
 Sweets fling their odors free ; 
 From spicy grove, from citron bower, 
 
 And fragrant orange tree. 
 
 Though on yon mountain's sunny side 
 
 Glow gems of beauty rare, 
 Yet bondage rolls a bitter tide. 
 
 And woe is nurtured there. 
 O, then, in my sweet humble vale. 
 
 With virtue I would live. 
 
Scene 1.] ZAMBA. 15 
 
 Contented with the simple joys 
 Nature and freedom give. 
 
 That vale was childhood's peaceful home : 
 
 Where in tranquillity 
 I passed the cloudless morn of life, 
 
 With hope, — most joyously ! 
 But now old ocean's stormy flood 
 
 Divides that vale from me, 
 And memory alone doth make 
 
 Its home, sweet vale, in thee ! 
 
 To meditation precious is the prime 
 
 Of morning ; shaking off slumber, 
 
 With cares and griefs, that yester eve oppressed. 
 
 The soul awakes to vigorous exertion. 
 
 A blessed hour it is, when I can steal 
 
 From those who watch each movement, every look, 
 
 And with the tone obsequious, ask my will. 
 
16 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 Alas ! I scarce dare think, lest they descry 
 
 The secret motions of a heart, that finds, 
 
 With none, the sympathy it seeks. 
 
 This balmy breath of heaven refreshes not 
 
 The fevered sense, when spirit is not free. 
 
 Yon bright beams, shining on ocean, earth, and 
 
 sky, 
 Light not the darkened soul ; scarce through the 
 
 eye 
 Give joy, when bondage holds with golden links 
 The form unwilling. Nor yet can truth 
 Enter a guest, when prejudice draws bolt 
 Upon the noble intellect. All here 
 Wear the chain, on body or on mind. 
 How wanders thought ! leading me back to pains 
 From which I fled : — hangs a dark drapery o'er 
 The cheerful morn, and drives devotion far. 
 
 Then let me hasten. 
 In yonder humble cottage I perchance 
 
Scene II.] ZAMBA. 17 
 
 May find the good I seek. Grant it, Father 
 In Heaven ! May thy servant be messenger 
 Of peace unto this troubled breast. How strange 
 The chance, that brought him to this Isle ! Chance ! 
 
 say I ? 
 Pardon, O God ! it was thy Providence. 
 
 (Exit toward the cottage.) 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Cottage near the beach. Mr. Lawton in front, with 
 a book. He rises from his seat, under a tree, to 
 meet Zelia, ivho is advancing. 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Welcome, Lady, to this lonely dwelling. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 If on your private hour my presence brings 
 Intrusion, let me retire. 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 I pray you nay, 
 2 
 
13 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 My Lady. Something of import would you ; 
 Else, one young and happy had not sought out 
 The dwelling of a poor recluse. Fear not 
 To speak your wishes : He whom I serve, 
 Better approves the deed of charity. 
 Than many prayers. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 My boldness pardon 
 In the cause which urged timidity. 
 Report, some days agone, in whispers ran 
 Among the menial train, that line our hall : 
 It said, that in a lonely spot dwelt one, 
 A man, holy and kind ; speaking with tongue 
 Of foreign accent, words and prayers, such as 
 Their ears had never learned. Often he sought, 
 Within their wretched huts, the sick and old. 
 With words of comfort ; kneeled on the hard earth 
 Beside the couch, that misery with its impress 
 Had enstamped, — 
 
Scene II.] ZAMBA. 19 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Pray hold thee, Lady ! 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Nay, — more, — 
 'T was whispered with mysterious air, as strange. 
 That not a prayer this pious man addressed , 
 Unto Mary, — Virgin, — mother of God ! 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Heaven forbid, that on my tongue blasphemy 
 Should rest. Lady, my faith is Protestant. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Of this, I doubted not, when yester eve, 
 
 In the poor hut of old Justine, your prayer 
 
 I heard. Joy leaped within my heart at sound 
 
 Of supplication, in simplicity, 
 
 Offered with faith to Him, who stoops from Heaven 
 
 To hear without a saintly medium. 
 
 The sinning creature, for mercy's sake alone. 
 
 I, too, am Protestant. 
 
20 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Now, God be praised ! 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Amen, my reverend friend. 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Yet, 'mid this joy, 
 My heart misgives me, and I tremble too : 
 For virtue is in peril, fair young maid. 
 Where pleasure tempts, and Truth Divine is 
 scorned. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 This do I know, therefore it is I seek 
 Your presence in my need. Against myself, 
 Timid and weak, protection I have sought. 
 Aid unto such, God sends his ministers, 
 A visible support to those, whose faith 
 Is still too weak to grasp the invisible. 
 MR. LAWTON [wUk emotiou). 
 Lady excuse the feeling I cannot hide. 
 
Scene II.] ZAMBA. 21 
 
 Thought backward turns, and brings to my review 
 Images of the past. To me, thou seemst 
 The child, lovely and loved, — my only one, — 
 Torn from these widowed arms, by early death. 
 The lost seems found in thee. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 On me, then, bestow 
 The sweet name of daughter. 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 . O righteous Heaven ! 
 I recognise the Hand that struck my joys. 
 As by the lightning scathed; each leaf and branch 
 Lay prostrate; and the wind passed mightily 
 Over the naked, unresisting trunk. 
 But now, transplanted to another soil. 
 And watered by the genial dews of Grace, 
 Fair fruits of Paradise bloom on these boughs. 
 To do thy will, O God, here — here am I : 
 Direct the way. 
 
22 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 ZELiA (^with anxiety). 
 Alas, how can I thus 
 Have moved the hidden fountain, in that breast, 
 Of grief so bitter ! I pray forgiveness 
 For inadvertent fault ; no harm was meant. 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Forgive thee ! rather bless ; most sweet is it, 
 Young maiden, to be sought and honored 
 With such confidence. But strange thy words, 
 Hard to divine ; how, in such early youth, 
 The faith thy fathers call heretical. 
 Be that, to which thy heart has given its trust. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Strange tale it is, which yet has not been told 
 To any here ; but I would speak it now. 
 Else my poor heart would burst. 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Speak then, daughter, 
 And believe that you may trust the servant 
 Of Him you also serve. 
 
Scene II.] ZAMBA. 23 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Almost in infancy, e'er yet the mind 
 Could prize a father's care or mother's love, 
 To famed Columbia's shore my parents sent 
 Me, their sole child. In careful hands was placed 
 Their dearest treasure ; and so willed Heaven, 
 That under the same friendly roof I found 
 The heir of Clermont's noble house, Augustus, 
 The dear companion of my childhood's sports, 
 Son of my father's friend. In foreign land, 
 Where every tongue, but his alone, was strange, 
 Where we together grew, read the same books. 
 And where in softer hours we talked of home. 
 The same dear home : what wonder then — 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Lady, 
 Why hesitate ? your inmost soul I guess. 
 A friendship, lasting as the love of life, 
 And dearer, was thus commenced : believe me. 
 This confidence is safe within my breast. 
 
24 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 This heart, oppressed with grief and fear, can feel 
 The value of such kindness. To proceed ; 
 The beloved guardians of our early years. 
 Were worthy of the trust. Gifted for earth, 
 Adorned with every grace to fit for heaven. 
 Were Whaley and his gentle wife. 
 Childless, on us their hoard of love bestowed. 
 But not alone our present good they sought ; 
 The Gospel's holy precepts, faithfully 
 Instilled into our minds, sacred we held. 
 When Reason scanned the creed of Romish faith, 
 And beams of Heaven's own Light burst o'er the 
 
 page 
 Of Truth Divine, our doubts removed : casting 
 Aside doctrines our fathers held, we two 
 Opposed, in heart and principle. 
 What we accounted error in our kindred. 
 Affection then became a sacred bond : 
 
Scene IL] ZAMBA. 23 
 
 Each shared the other's hopes and fears ; our joys 
 And griefs were one : blest were we, even 
 In days of deep anxiety and gloom. 
 
 Bitter the grief 
 When mandate came for my return alone : 
 Leave him, who next to Heaven was dear! I 
 
 came ; 
 My native land then saw, and felt with joy 
 Drops of paternal love bedew my cheek. 
 My mother's tomb was all of her I found. 
 'T is pain to speak the rest. 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Fear nothing. Lady, 
 Let me know all. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Unused to the vain show. 
 That makes the sum of worldly happiness, 
 I find myself a stranger, though at home. 
 The idol of a father's fondest love, 
 
OQ ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 The mistress absolute of bowing slaves, 
 
 I am myself a captive, not unlike 
 
 The deity enchained in ancient Tyre 
 
 Fast to the feet of Hercules, lest he 
 
 Escape his worshippers. Jewels most rare 
 
 Cover a breast that sorrow makes its home. 
 
 In sinful paths my feet are often led. 
 
 I plead in vain, a father's gathering frown 
 
 Presses with fear and grief this sinking heart : 
 
 Yielding, to Heaven I scarce dare lift a prayer. 
 
 Offend my God ! O, what a mortal grief! 
 
 Like some frail bark, tossed on the raging wave, 
 
 Compass and rudder lost, — thus with my soul. 
 
 Friend I have none ; for he who would have stayed 
 
 My sliding steps is far, O, far away. 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Not so : there 's One with wakeful eye looks on ; 
 Who does, for good, events most adverse turn. 
 Within their bounds He locks the mighty waves: 
 Holds with his hand the driving hurricane, 
 
Scene II.] ZAMBA. 27 
 
 • 
 And draws the bolts of Death. This wondrous 
 
 might 
 
 Is coupled with a Love as wondrous. 
 
 The meanest creature formed by His hand, 
 
 Is object of His care. The little bird, 
 
 The tiny insect, sporting on the breath 
 
 Of lightest zephyr, even the reptile, 
 
 Object of our disgust, He guards and feeds. 
 
 The sunbeams glad the eyes, and the breeze cools 
 
 The fevered senses, of the veriest wretch 
 
 That walks the earth. The field yields him bread. 
 
 And fountain water. Shall He, whose mercies 
 
 Reach even the vile, forget his children ; 
 
 Leave them in their need ? Rather the mother 
 
 Shall forget her babe : she may, in frailty 
 
 Of our nature ; but His love is changeless 
 
 As the Throne eternal ! 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 These words, good Sir, 
 Lighten in part the load of heavy thought. 
 
28 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 Still I doubt : can Love Omnipotent, 
 Perfect, consist with trials, various 
 And great as mine ? 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Virtue in circumstance 
 Is often placed to try it and refine. 
 Thus precious things of earth are purified : 
 Cast in the furnace, the Refiner sees 
 His image in the brightening gold ; but know, 
 That not a moment longer than it needs 
 For the complete impression, will He leave 
 It there. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 My fearful heart trembles, while 
 It rejoices. Should I fail ! — 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 O, fear not : 
 Tempted to stray, thy refuge is in God ; 
 For aid thou 'rt bid to pray, neglecting not 
 
Scene II.] ZAMBA. 29 
 
 A watch to keep over the wayward thought. 
 Treacling with fearless step the narrow path, 
 Thorny though it be, and at the entrance 
 Dark, — sweet flowers grow there, and light, at 
 
 first 
 A twilight beam, — The Sun of Righteousness 
 Rising, will cast his splendors o'er the way, 
 Lightening thy pathway to the perfect day. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Helpless and timid, too long have I strayed. 
 
 Unto your cot, my steps were led by Him, 
 
 Who keeps his eye upon the little flock. 
 
 That follow where He leads. Help thus He gives 
 
 My inexperience ; — and your reward, — 
 
 His love, and smile approving. 
 
 {Exit Zelia.) 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Blest reward ! 
 For this, my country, wealth, and friends were left, 
 
30 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 And trusting to the treacherous deep my life, f 
 
 I sought in foreign solitude a home, 
 Here, where the glowing sun pours on our race 
 Disease and death. His smile, who gave com- 
 mand, 
 " Go preach to all the Gospel of my Grace," — 
 His smile, — a world for it, how small the price ! 
 
 (Exit into the cottage.) 
 
 SCENE HI. 
 
 Saloon in the house of the Count De JVouville : 
 
 Count De JVouville and Baroness of Belfont. 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 Good friend, forbear ! inflame not thus your blood. 
 
 Anger, in this our burning clime, dries up 
 
 The vital current ; 'T is most unwholesome 
 
 And laborious exercise of spirit. 
 
 Pleasure has rights, a gallant court she holds 
 
 In these soft bowers. Perpetual summer sheds 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. 3jl 
 
 Perpetual sweets. The cooling mid-day breeze 
 Invites us to repose, the evening hour 
 To banquet, song, and dance. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Lady, of joy 
 Speak not to me, whose life wears out in care. 
 Time was, when banquet, dance, and song 
 Were welcome, as golden hours winged with bliss. 
 But now vexation lengthens out the day. 
 And chases slumber from the night. My wealth 
 I hold in hazard : — slaves in mutiny : — 
 My child in disobedience. 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 Zelia ! 
 Impossible ! so loving, gentle, good ! 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Would she were perverse ! I should know my 
 
 course. 
 But with her gentle nature, how can mine 
 
32 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 Be harsh and uncomplying ? Yes, my friend, 
 
 'T is subject of regret, that I e'er sent 
 
 Such early youth from the parental home. 
 
 A father truly can desire no more 
 
 Of outward charm than I in Zelia find. 
 
 My whitening locks admonish the discharge 
 
 Of passions, ruling in my manhood's noon ; 
 
 Bidding me look for happiness to her 
 
 Whose infancy gave but a passing joy. 
 
 But grief seems seated in my daughter's breast, 
 
 I look in vain for sportive gayety : 
 
 Nor song, nor dance, doth charm her. Firm, yet 
 
 mild, 
 The mirth of youth repels she : it would seem 
 Sorrow hath borrowed for her pleasure's robe. 
 The day of rest, our gayest festival, 
 Sacred with her to God and solitude, — 
 With prayer she wearies out the lonely hours : 
 And if command, perchance, unwilling brings 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. 33 
 
 Her presence to the festal board, the jest, 
 
 The laugh, no welcome from her meet ; reproof 
 
 Is seated in her speaking eye, whence steals, 
 
 Beneath the downcast lid, the precious dew. 
 
 For this did I consign her to the care 
 
 Of strangers, whose mistaken fancies, warping 
 
 Her tender mind, gave to my loving arms 
 
 A melancholy girl, — a devotee ? 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 Calm, calm thee. Count ! 't is childhood's prejudice, 
 Which better knowledge soon will wear away. 
 Leave her to me, her school shall be the world, 
 And I the teacher, in the dear delights 
 Of life. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Your friendship, Lady, of my youth the joy. 
 Comes now to be the solace of my age. 
 Gladly I M hail the hour, that shall unite 
 My house to that of Clermont, consummate 
 3 
 
34 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 The marriage of your nephew with my child. 
 
 Augustus, methinks, should hasten his return, 
 
 Lately apprized of this our old design, 
 
 So closely kept from Zelia. Now Heaven grant 
 
 The foolish girl, by sullenness, draw not 
 
 From him disgust. Wealth, broad and solid, thus 
 
 Shall flow around them. 
 
 (^Enter a servanty in haste.) 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 My lord, your presence 
 In the outer hall, they wait. Six oxen. 
 Of the finest breed, are dead, and the slaves. 
 So choice, from Guinea's coast, just purchased, 
 Are seized with dying agonies. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Villains ! 
 And bloodhounds ! thus to gorge themselves with 
 
 life. 
 Lady, I will have vengeance. 
 
 (^Exeunt.) 
 
Scene IV.] ZAMBA. 35 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 A negro cabin, shaded by plantain trees. 
 
 ZAMBA (in front, walking in agitation). 
 The hour draws nigh, the hour of vengeance 
 
 comes ! 
 Vengeance, too long delayed, so much desired. 
 Ha ! hated foe ! this hand shall childless write 
 Thy haughty house. From me, thou didst tear 
 The last, most loved, the only one that fate 
 Had left to me. Yes, I will rend from thee 
 The solace of thy age ! — thy daughter ! 
 I laugh thee now to scorn ! — thy Zelia dies ! 
 
 {Pauses. — Continues, in a softened tone.) 
 Zelia, the gentle one ! — Zelia ! Can I, 
 Whose soul was soft as woman's, do this deed ? 
 Dissolving nature gushes from my eyes, 
 At the free sports of happy infancy : — 
 The tottering step of age makes me a child ! 
 
36 ZAMBA, [Act I. 
 
 In spirit then I rove along the streams 
 That roll their golden sands to Afric's coast. 
 Again, beneath the lofty palmetto, 
 Recline luxurious, upon the mat, 
 A mother's hand has wrought. 
 The joyous voices of my infant brothers, 
 Ring strangely in my ears ! and she ! — O, she ! 
 Amaba ! Ha ! Amaba, — where art thou ? 
 Thou, in whose smile my soul did sun itself. 
 How blessed was I, when twlHght's curtain veiled 
 The beams of sultry day, with footsteps swift, 
 Scarce leaving their impression on the sand, 
 I hastened to thy leafy bower, my love ! 
 Joy dancing in my breast, as thy accents 
 Gave welcome greeting : then the lively dance. 
 And song, and mirth, and converse unrestrained, 
 Gave wings to time. O, happy, happy hours ! 
 
 (Strong emotion.) 
 And when returned from warfare with my foes. 
 
Scene IV. ZAMBA. 37 
 
 Not princely honors could on me bestow 
 Such triumph as when thee with spoils I decked. 
 Thy beauty shone, encircled by the bands 
 Of ivory and gold, my hand had torn 
 From necks of captive kings. 
 
 (Pauses.) 
 
 Prince ! Conqueror ! 
 Lover ! has this been ? 
 
 ( The sound of a horn is heard, he starts,) 
 
 Fool, fool ! I waken 
 From the dream, which makes me weak and craven. 
 That sound proclaims that I am prince no longer, 
 But a mean slave ! called by its blast to toil 
 For my worst foe ! O ! is there not a bolt, 
 Launched by the thunder, that can reach his 
 
 heart ? 
 Harder than rocks, that sport them with the waves, 
 Grinding the wrecks, freighted with living men, 
 Whose shrieks they heed not ! harder is his heart, 
 
38 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 Who sported with my anguish, with the tears, 
 Of her, he tore from me ! — my wife ! Amaba ! 
 {He strikes his brow with clenched hands.) 
 (In a low, bitter tone.) 
 With him, I too will sport, heed not his love, 
 But mock his anguish and his bitter tears, 
 When, pale and cold, he views the lifeless form 
 Of his own child, his last, beloved one ; 
 And when he faltering asks, who did the deed ? 
 I '11 shout reply, — Amaba's spirit sent 
 The bowl of death to Zelia ! — this, to you ! — 
 Driving my dagger's point deep in his heart, 
 Then turn it on myself ! — 
 
 ALPHONSE, {who enters unseen, during the latter part 
 of the soliloquy.) 
 
 Nay, nay, my friend. 
 For thou must live and reign with me : Our revolt 
 Shall be the signal for a general one. 
 The slaves, timid and indolent though they be, 
 
Scene IV.] ZAMBA. 39 
 
 Are restless in their chains ; they want a chief 
 
 Of metal firm, and courage daring, 
 
 To stir them up to action : then will they 
 
 Bold deeds and cruel do ; like tigers roused. 
 
 They are savage in their wrath : fit tools for us 
 
 To work our dire revenge, and triumph too. 
 
 'T is not for vengeance only that I burn. 
 
 For power hath charms sweeter than vengeance, far. 
 
 The glorious day now bursts upon my sight, 
 
 Which to the kingly Haytian rival gives. 
 
 That day shall see a diadem circling 
 
 This royal brow. Then, Zamba, thou, my friend, 
 
 Shalt next the throne hold princely rank. 
 
 (Pauses.) 
 {Surprised.) How now ! 
 
 Doth joy not swell the soul of Zamba .'' why 
 So sad } all is not lost ! 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 Lost to Zamba ! 
 
40 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 Birth made me prince, fortune has made me slave. 
 All hope is lost, all passion dead, save one ; 
 Revenge, revenge ! 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Revenge is well, if well 
 It be employed. Great wrongs, I doubt not. 
 Lay upon you, though to me unknown. 
 But I would listen, while into my breast 
 Your griefs you count. 
 
 {Aside.) His whim I will humor, 
 Madness it were to lose him. 
 
 (Aloud.) My Zamba, 
 Speak ! doubt not the sympathy that longs 
 To make your woes its own. 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 Brief my sad tale. 
 On Benin's coast, there, where the mighty Niger 
 Divides its waters through a hundred channels, 
 With cooling and with fertile influence ; 
 
Scene IV.] ZAMBA. 41 
 
 There was I chief. A band of daring warriors 
 Obeyed my voice, and followed me to fight 
 Against a hostile herd of fierce Ashantes, 
 Descending on our hamlets ; these repelling, 
 In the hot chase, too far we wandered ; 
 We were surrounded and made prisoners. 
 Then, when night closed upon that fatal day, 
 We saw, while raging in our bonds, from far, 
 The flame consume our dwellings : and the shrieks 
 That frantic rose to heaven, stunned the racked 
 
 sense. 
 It was the death-cry of our aged parents, 
 And little children. The morrow's dawn 
 Brought throngs of captured people. Mothers, in 
 
 prime 
 Of womanhood, stood with their sons and daugh- 
 ters. 
 Active youths, and comely maidens : these, 
 A weeping train, followed the victor's steps. 
 
42 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 In this sad group there stood my heart's own idol, 
 My dear Amaba ! who but one short moon 
 Had blessed me with her love. As frighted bird 
 Darts to its nest, so rushed she to my arms. 
 Encircled thus she stood, and heedless seemed 
 Of the hard fate that waited her and me. 
 She cared not, while side by side we walked, 
 Whither her footsteps tended. Alas, 
 'T was to the cruel sea they bore us, 
 Grave of the helpless ! pathway to despair ! 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Great are your wrongs, my friend ; to be enslaved. 
 Were an injustice that cries up to Heaven, 
 Calling down vengeance on the aggressor. 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 Nay, 
 Slavery in our land is but common lot. 
 The fate of warfare, a game, in which the strong 
 Or skilful win the prize. 
 
Scene IV.] ZAMBA. 43 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 The love of gain 
 Sends these white traffickers to Afric's coast, 
 Carrying bawbles to the barbarous chiefs, 
 To change for human flesh. These to chastise, 
 And to avenge my race, now nerves this hand. 
 Arming in virtue's cause. 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 Nay, Alphonse, 
 Such are subtleties of argument 
 Above my understanding. Call you it 
 Virtue, to fill with discontent, envy. 
 And hate, those simple ones, whose sad estate 
 Is servitude ? Your love of gain, of power, 
 Will it not make them doubly slaves ? — then where 
 Your virtue ? 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 {Aside.) Now may the spirit of evil 
 Afflict me, if this I leave unpunished. 
 
44 ZA.MBA. [Act I. 
 
 (Moud.) Zamba, thou art witty, but the better ; 
 I love thy spirit, sense, and greatly count 
 Upon thy wisdom to direct the plan, 
 Tending to general good. But time hastens, 
 And the story of thy wrongs unfinished : 
 My heart demands it of thee. 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 Truly saidst thou, 
 Alphonse, on love of gain are founded ills 
 Innumerable. But it boots me not 
 On what the ill is founded, so I suffer. 
 Slavery is not the ill I would avenge. 
 Though galling is its chain. O worse ! far worse ! 
 But thou shalt hear the tale of villany. 
 That drinks up all my blood ! 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Go on. I listen. 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 Sold to the white, Amaba shared my fate. 
 
Scene IV.] ZAMBA. 45 
 
 As faded from the sight our native land, 
 The bond uniting us, still stronger grew. 
 Rank, honor, home, and freedom, she to me ; 
 I, all on earth to her. Such tenderness 
 And truth, they pitied, — barbarians pitied, 
 And would not separate. Together sold. 
 The Count De Nouville was our purchaser, 
 Our master, tyrant ! May all the curses 
 Pronounced by Fetish men, on Afric's shores. 
 Light on his head ! 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Calm thee, Zamba ; vengeance. 
 Our wacthword, waits 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 It does ! I swear to aid thee ! 
 Without it life is hateful. She whose smile 
 Made day of night was blotted from the heaven 
 Of my love. Torn from my arms, Amaba 
 Died ! slain by her bitter grief, and I live ! 
 
46 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 Dragging through years of woe the maddening hope 
 To wreak upon the head of Count De Nouville, 
 Tyrant licentious, the woes he heaped on mine. 
 
 Amaba ! this time has come ! Zamba now 
 Hastes to meet rejoicing, on the briny wave, 
 Thy spirit, sated with the sacrifice 
 His hand has made. Then again on wings 
 Of love to Benin's burning shore, there bathe 
 In lucid streams, and rest in fragrant bowers 
 Our unchained souls, to separate no more. 
 I come ! Amaba ! 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Of death, talk not : 
 Live to take ample vengeance. The white man, 
 Disdaining now our tawny race, shall learn. 
 In fear, respect for Afric's sable sons. 
 These foul oppressors crushed beneath our stroke, 
 Shall to the victors leave their wives and daughters. 
 
 ( The conch sounds again,) 
 
Scene IV.] ZAMBA. 47 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 I must away. Hark ! 't is the call to labor. 
 
 {Exit) 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 A madman this ! 
 But I must not lose him ; talents he has, 
 And courage, for my purpose. The Island 
 Gained, I '11 not constrain his humor ; would die .'' 
 I '11 let him, he might be dangerous rival. 
 Of human kind he hates but one, while I 
 Hate all : born of mingled blood, to no one 
 Race belong ; over them all. I 'd triumph. 
 My father white, even in his grave I curse him ! 
 A menial he left his only son. 
 My mother, O, I blush to own her name ; 
 A low, enslaved, untutored African ! 
 What then am I .'' a monster ; ay, and I 
 Will do such acts of unheard villany. 
 That Nature shall cast me off, a blot 
 
48 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 On her fair face, or Fame exalt me 
 To a hero. {Pauses.) 
 
 My sister fair, Baronne of Belfont, styled ! 
 Humbly to her I long enough have bowed. 
 Crushed by her haughty look and stern command. 
 She, at my feet shall sue, yes, vainly sue. 
 My father's wealth 't is time I now enjoy. 
 And homage of his slaves. Power ! O, most sweet 
 To him who wore its yoke — constrained to pay 
 Obeisance. Upon his tongue falsehood dwells, 
 In his heart, deadly hate ! By guile or force. 
 Breaking the yoke, as on a loathsome worm. 
 Tramples he on his tyrant, and the fools 
 Who aided him, chastises he with scorpions ! 
 Talk they of virtue ? what is it ? — the bawble 
 That priests do play withal : and promises ? — 
 Perfumed air. Fools inhale my honeyed breath, 
 'T will swell them out, but never fatten. 
 They count on vast estates when I am king : 
 
Scene IV.] ZAMBA. 49 
 
 Grants shall they have ; fair, large territories ! — 
 
 (Pauses and smiles.) 
 In the moon ! — No matter, let them help me. 
 Once a Baron, next step will make me king ! 
 And then, rewards shall come ; we '11 see, why 
 
 then, — 
 They may serve me : 't will be sufficient honor. 
 They serve me now, as I were king already. 
 At my command they go, do my bidding 
 Without questioning. Say I to one, 
 Destroy the cattle of the Count, your master, 
 'T is done ; poison his valued Africans, 
 They do it. {He pauses and walks about in agitation.) 
 
 True, compunctious visitings 
 At times annoy me, and in dreams I hear 
 The cries of the poor wretches punished 
 For deeds urged on by me. But what do I 
 With conscience .'' Conscience ! a bugbear ! 
 
 there is 
 
 4 
 
50 ZAMBA. [Act I. 
 
 No such thing as conscience. The remembrance 
 Of the nurse's prattle torments the man. 
 E'en priests laugh at it, for when we confess 
 A lie or theft, they bid us tell our prayers, 
 Twice o'er, then laugh at us for fools. Thus have 
 I heard them at their cups. {*d bell rings.) 
 
 Ha! 
 My service, Lady, freely shalt thou have, 
 Thou wilt not need it long. (Exit.) 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. 51 
 
 A C T 1 1. 
 
 SCENE I. Saloon in the house of the Count De 
 
 JYouville. Count De JVouville. Zelia. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Daughter, too long has lenity been used, 
 
 The ruin grows more wide. Our flocks and herds 
 
 Already are the prey of miscreants. 
 
 Who now destroy each other. Can I look 
 
 Tamely on destruction as it hovers 
 
 Over our wealth ; ourselves ? Child, who can say 
 
 Whether this mischief stop short of our lives ? 
 
 Perchance these wretches may presume upon, 
 
 What cowardice they count in us, and lay 
 
 Their treacherous hands upon our very persons. 
 
 They shall be made to feel with whom they dare 
 
 To trifle. 
 
52 ZAMBA. [Act II. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Father, permit your Zelia 
 To plead ; since, in your bosom, she will find 
 An advocate : for nature pleads the cause 
 Of Reason and Humanity. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Zelia, 
 Your ignorance and innocence would cause 
 A smile, were not the matter of moment 
 So serious. Well, say on ; my nature 
 Is indulgent. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Of punishment, you speak, 
 My father ; should we not discriminate ? 
 Search out the guilty, not confound with them 
 The innocent and helpless ? 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 The scourge shall 
 Search them out ; make them confess, — 
 
Scene L] ZAMBA. 53 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 And think you 
 Severity can open hearts ? force truth 
 Upon the lips ? rather will it close up 
 The heart to good, open the lips to lies, 
 And accusation false of one another. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 That cannot be ; in vice, they are all alike. 
 To punish all, far short the mark we fall not, 
 Some guilt we always hit. Daughter, you see 
 , Not all the blackness of this race, their hearts 
 Are darker than their faces ! 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Ah father, 
 It is in our human nature darkness lies ; 
 And circumstance in them makes it seem darker. 
 Search round the globe, is there upon its face 
 Being more wretched than the slave, deprived 
 Of country, kindred, liberty and hope ; 
 
54 ZAMBA. [Act II. 
 
 Unused to toil, — until, in stranger land, 
 His eye reluctant sees the dawn, calling 
 To fruitless labor ? 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Now, out, I say, 
 Upon such reasoning ! Was man not doomed, 
 By the brow's sweat, his daily bread to gain ? 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 True, father, the command rests on us all. 
 Yet all do not thus toil : we who are masters 
 Enjoy in seeming idleness our bread ; 
 Perchance, they who without reward, labor 
 For us, may feel aggrieved. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Sophistry, child, 
 I perceive thou'st learnt in yon Republic. 
 Know'st not that different grades have been as- 
 signed 
 To men ? — and if, by circumstance, to us 
 Wealth has been given, ease follows in its train. 
 
ScEicE I.] ZAMBA. 55 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 This may be so, but liberty hath charms 
 
 To sweeten labor, poverty and pain ; 
 
 And hence the bitterness, with which the slave, 
 
 Who is not all a slave, being in spirit 
 
 Freed by Truth Divine, regards his master. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Thou art a foolish child : all men are slaves, 
 In some guise or other ; some to their own 
 Ignoble natures ; others to outward forms 
 Qf fashion, pomp, religion, civil law. 
 A king, — what but a master ? and we, 
 The slaves to furnish out his lodging, food, 
 Attire, and equipage, with regal state. 
 And law, — what is it but a decent fetter 
 Put on society ? all men are slaves 
 That wear it. And priestcraft, — what ? 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Nay, father, 
 
56 ZAMBA. [Act II. 
 
 Dearest father ! do not yourself a harm. 
 
 These thoughts, are not the thoughts of sober truth, 
 
 Of Truth Divine. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Girl, interrupt me not. 
 I say, the knaves who preach should practise. 
 Fit lecturers on morality indeed 
 Are men who grind the faces of the poor. 
 Who fatten on the tears of starving 
 Infancy ! I 'd loathe the bread that 's purchased 
 By labor of the little wretch that leaves. 
 Before the dawn, the couch, where arms maternal 
 Gives to the shivering form its warmest shelter. 
 Now fie upon such manhood ! these are brutes 
 Compared with him that serves him of the toil 
 Of Afric's stalwart sons ! who even makes 
 The stubborn knave smart for his indolence. 
 Good cabins, clothes, and food, and time for sports. 
 Have these ungrateful villains. 
 
Scene L] ZAMBA. 57 
 
 {In anger.) What! ho, there! 
 
 Who waits ? I lose temper, daughter ; you rouse 
 My wrath by such arguments : answer not ; 
 Too much I 've heard already. 
 
 (Servant enters.) 
 
 Did my lord call ? 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Yes, 
 Bid my Intendant come. To measures sharp. 
 Must we resort, since leisure too copious 
 Gives miscreants scope to plot and execute 
 Mischief most foul. 
 
 ( To the Intendant who enters.) 
 
 See that more work be laid 
 Upon those murderous knaves : at evening hour, 
 The time they gave to sports and dances gay, 
 Henceforth let them do the labor of the brutes. 
 By their own wickedness destroyed. 
 {Intendant bows and exit. Exit Count another way.) 
 
58 ZAMBA. [Act II. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! that we erring creatures, 
 With eagle eye, should scan each other's faults, 
 Regardless of our own. One wraps his form 
 In furs, and proudly glances on the wretch, 
 Who, shivering and hungry, crouches beside 
 The stately portal of his splendid home, 
 Which entering, he investigates the cause 
 Of misery at the antipodes ; J 
 
 And eloquently pleads for those, whose wants 
 Will never touch his purse, in their redress. 
 How few there are that ask, — " Who is my neigh- 
 bour ? " 
 And fewer still, like the Samaritan, 
 Pour oil into his wounds. O my father ! 
 No heart of stone is thine. Prosperity 
 In golden armor cased thee ; every shaft, 
 By pity winged, glances beside the mark : 
 But grace can find an entrance to thy heart. 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. 59 
 
 For thee I '11 pray, and weary Heaven with tears. 
 {^Throws herself upon a couch.) 
 {Enter Baroness of Belfont.) 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 Zelia, you weep ! why ceaseless flow these tears ? 
 In youth's fair spring, pleasure puts forth its buds ; 
 Cull them, sweet maid, e'er faded is their bloom ; 
 Their fragrance wasted on the passing breeze. 
 
 ^ ZELIA. 
 
 Lady, think you that pleasure is the end 
 And object sole of this our mortal life ? 
 
 I BARONESS. 
 
 What other end ? — Woman is formed for it. 
 To youth, is lent the charm of novelty : 
 Its magic wand, to every changing scene 
 Enchantment gives ; this fairy season love 
 m in his prime. Beauty his arrows wings 
 With lilies, roses, violets, emblems 
 Of woman, youthful, lovely, graceful, sweet ; 
 
60 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Empress and victor in the world of love. 
 When time, most unsuspected, steals away 
 The rosy hours of life, then comes pleasure's noo^ 
 Fortune gives bliss more solid, more intense. 
 Ease spreads its downy couch, and luxury, 
 Substantial, varying, endless joys unfolds. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Your picture, lady, is not yet complete : 
 Comes there no evening to this sunny day 
 No winter to this fruitful year ? 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 Pleasure, 
 The goddess of each soft delight, excludes 
 From her domain both night and age : 
 Nature in courtly ministry, the skies, 
 With a dark drapery veils, shutting out day, 
 Ofttimes offensive to the softened sense : 
 Art then with lustre hangs the fairy court 
 Of fashion, its radiance more enchanting 
 
Scene L] ZAMBA. 61 
 
 Than the brightest beam of sunlight. And thus 
 When age to beauty gives the withering touch, 
 Art quick undoes the mischief, repairing 
 With skill divine the form and lineaments ; 
 Bids roses bloom upon the faded cheek 
 With deeper glow, and on the sallowed brow 
 Lilies more fair expand. This magic court, 
 Zelia, invites your presence. Youth, beauty, 
 Fortune, love, to you the sceptre give. 
 More, would you have, fair maid ? 
 
 § ZELIA. 
 
 ^ Yes, Lady, yes ! 
 
 A good there is, more highly prized by me. 
 Far sweeter than the fragrant morn of youth. 
 Brighter than rose blooming upon the cheek 
 Of Beauty, dearer than first sigh of Love, 
 Than Fortune's golden gifts more precious 
 Is Heaven's approving smile. Disease or age 
 Must pale the brightest cheek : falsehood or death 
 
Q2, ZAMBA. [Act II 
 
 Wither the rose of love : than fair one's whim 
 Fortune more fickle still, takes back the gifts 
 She once conferred. Think you the world will smile 
 On us ? Ah, lady, no ! This paradise 
 Blackened with tempest, will to desert turn, 
 All wild and desolate : the heart in vain 
 Seek its lost joys, and clasp the fiend, despair. 
 But Heaven can smooth the thorny couch of carl. 
 Can still the throb which rends the aching breast, 
 Will smile, should fortune, friendship, love, all 
 frown, I 
 
 And give to death, man's most terrific foe, | 
 
 An angel's form, beaming with peace and hope. 
 This is the good I crave. 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 Such thoughts of glooifi 
 I give to sadder hours ; succeeding years, 
 Zelia, will leave us time to turn devout. % 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 In fairy land we dwell ; the clarion sound 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. 63 
 
 Of Death in some unthought of hour, this scene 
 Of mimic bliss will change — reality 
 Will break upon us. 
 
 BARONESS (going). 
 
 I must now away, 
 For numerous guests to-morrow crown my board, 
 My people wait for orders. May I hope 
 That you, young friend, will grace the festive 
 scene ? 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 To-morrow is the christian's holy day. 
 
 The sacred hours I dare not give to mirth, — 
 
 They all to Heaven belong. 
 
 COUNT (ivho had entered unseen). 
 
 What mean you, girl. 
 So to provoke a father, too indulgent ? 
 Assuming thus the right to act or not. 
 As whim or idle notions prompt ? Would you 
 To a cloister, — there to whine and pray ; or 
 
64 ZAMBA. [Act II. 
 
 Rather among heretics, to chapel ? 
 Mix with the noisy herd, who arrogate, 
 Each for himself, the right to judge, tearing 
 The mitre from his Holiness ? Hear, me, 
 And obey. I command thee, child, to leave 
 Religious matters to the priesthood ; such 
 Is their business ; yours, to please your father. 
 Woman should have no thought, no will, but how 
 To charm. It ill befits her tender frame 
 And feeble mind, to enter in the lists 
 With man, and wrangle for opinions. O, 
 Much do I lament my own misjudgment. 
 Better hadst thou been ignorant, even 
 Of the elements of letters, than thus 
 Acquire, 'mong low republicans, the art 
 To set a father at defiance. 
 
 ( With softened expression,) 
 Well, 
 Let it pass ; seek now to merit the love 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. 65 
 
 Of him, thy future husband. Clermont's lord 
 Returns, and thee I destine for his bride. 
 What means this deadly paleness ? Zelia ! speak ! 
 
 (She faints.) 
 Help, help ! my daughter dies ! 
 
 {Maid-servants enter and go to Zelia.) 
 Wretch, that I am ! 
 With harshness thus to wound thy gentle soul. 
 My lovely child ! open once more those eyes, 
 Dear as the light to mine. O, speak again ; 
 No music but thy voice delights my ear. 
 
 (^Zelia lying upon a sofa ; the Count hanging over 
 her ; attendants busy about her. Baroness fanning 
 herself.) 
 
 BARONESS (to her maids). 
 Haste, maidens ! bear me out ; this scene o'er- 
 
 comes 
 My heart, of tender feeling all made up. 
 See how I tremble ! So ! — support me there ! 
 5 
 
66 ZAMBA. [Act II. 
 
 Olinde ! ha ! raise me up ! — gently ! I *m faint ! 
 Scenes of distress, my heart could ne'er endure. 
 Take, take me from this sight ! poor, poor Zelia! 
 Dear Count, my friend ! adieu ! 
 
 {Aside.) How pale she is ! 
 She talked of death just now : and frightful 't is 
 To think of it : let me be gone. 
 (Exit Baroness, leaning languishingly on her maids,) 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Ojoy! 
 She wakes to life ! my child ! 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Father, — what ? tears ! 
 COUNT (motions to attendants, who go out). 
 Tears of love and joy. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Ah yes, love and joy : 
 I dreamed but now of love and joy, sweet dream ! 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Dream ! what dream ? Ah, she is ill again ! 
 
Scene L] 2AMBA. 67 
 
 ZELiA (aside). 
 Augustus comes, such was the dream I had. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 What say 'st thou, sweet? speak to me my beloved! 
 
 ZELIA (timidly). 
 Didst thou, dear father, speak of young Clermont; 
 Or was it but a dream ? 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 No dream was it, 
 I spoke of him, and every hour we wait 
 His presence. Wilt thou not give him welcome? 
 His father was my friend. The Count Clermont 
 In dying, to my care Augustus left : 
 His lands, his slaves, his vast inheritance. 
 "Watch over them, my dearest friend," said he, 
 *' And make my son your own. In fitting time 
 Give Zelia to his arms." Ye, both, were sent 
 Instruction to receive in distant lands. 
 Columbia's shore I chose, for bloody hands 
 
$8 ZAMBA. [Act II. 
 
 Our country's sceptre held. Concealed from thee 
 Was my design ; lest, in some female whim, 
 Thy heart might feel repugnance to the youth 
 Whom thou in merry days of childhood loved'st. 
 My daughter, wilt thou now repel him ? 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Who? 
 Him ! repel Augustus .'* 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Enough, my child. 
 That smile, that tear, that eye and cheek tell tales. 
 Come to my arms, for love must have its vent, 
 Else would its pressure break my o'ercharged heart. 
 Thy smile will now bring sunshine to my soul. 
 And thy reward shall be the treasured wealth 
 Kept for thee. I will to the Baroness. 
 'T is fitting she my joy partake. Daughter, 
 The Lady of Belfont holds vast estate, 
 Augustus is her heir ; offend her not. 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. 69 
 
 So will I have it, for to-morrow's feast 
 
 Thy best attire and loveliest smile prepare. (Exit.) 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 He comes ! and comes for me ! this joy, so great 
 Oppresses me. My chamber let me seek, 
 His name to praise, who every good bestows. 
 His grace to ask, who all his children guides. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
70 ZAMBA. [Act III. 
 
 ACT III. 
 SCENE I. Seashore ; a slope covered with orange 
 
 and mango trees. Ship in the offing at anchor. 
 
 Sunset. 
 
 AUGUSTUS (advancing). 
 Hail, native Isle ! upon thy fruitful soil 
 All-bounteous Nature lavishes her charms. 
 How beautiful art thou ! though but a speck 
 In this fair creation of the Great Being, 
 Whose hand made all, and made all fair and good. 
 Thou, Earth ! art glorious in thy loveliness : 
 Yon arch of azure, thine imperial dome, 
 Sparkling with moving gems. In royal state, 
 We walk beneath, and press with joyous steps 
 Thy turf of richer dye, more varied hues. 
 Than gorgeous tapestry, pressed by the foot 
 Of Eastern beauty on her bridal day. 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. 71 
 
 At early dawn, when the cool breezes play 
 O'er silvery waves, among the forest oaks, 
 A ruby curtain veiling half the sky. 
 Rolls back apace, until the glorious sun 
 A flood of light sheds over mountain top. 
 Turret and spire. And now at closing day, 
 When lowing flocks return to seek the fold, 
 And birds chirp out an evening song of praise ; 
 The orb descending shows a broader disk. 
 Quenching his light in floods of molten gold ; 
 While the full moon, now veiled in snowy fleece, 
 Now riding in unclouded lustre, calms 
 And refreshes, by her silver ray, both 
 Wearied sense and soul. 
 
 Most beautiful, ye hills, and vales, and woods ! 
 Sweet flowers, and gentle birds, and insects bright! 
 Perfuming the fields, singing in groves, sporting 
 In sunbeams, how I love ye all ! 
 Thou Ocean too ! so fearfully sublime 
 
72 ZAMBA. [Act III. 
 
 In storm, hast beauty in thy rest. All things 
 In this material world are fair to him, 
 Who, with the heart's deep gratitude, receives 
 Them as the bounteous gifts of Love supreme. 
 He looks abroad, the master and the guest 
 Of an abode, formed for his transient stay. 
 In vain ye fling your odors, scented bowers ! 
 In vain your song, musicians of the grove ! 
 Waters ! ye flow for nought; and lights of heaven! 
 Useless your fires, if man were not ! 
 
 Still lives he not for you. That hand. 
 Which felled the forests of a thousand years, 
 Erected cities with an hundred gates. 
 And ploughed the waves that battle with the skies; 
 That hand shall rest as nerveless as yon clod. 
 The eye, that drank in beauty and explored 
 The page of wisdom, reached the starry world, 
 Shall close for ever its admiring gaze. 
 The form that holds dominion o'er thee, — Earth ! 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. 73 
 
 Take to thy sod, for dust it is ; but know, 
 The soul is not for thee. 
 
 Then boast thee not 
 Of all thy glorious beauty. The brightness 
 Of yonder orbs, that roll in light eternal, 
 Fades in the glory of the deathless soul ! 
 The soul, released from this material, 
 Bursting its shell, now takes celestial flight. 
 Thy beauties, Earth ! like tints of summer morn, 
 Vanish before the kindling blaze of Heaven ! 
 
 [Exit slowly among the trees.) 
 Enter Zelia with JVora, an attendant. 
 
 ZELiA {sings). 
 Lo ! the hour of setting day. 
 Come, let us to the ocean's side, 
 To watch the parting, lingering ray 
 Fade softly o'er the swelling tide. 
 There we '11 pour our evening hymn, 
 While forest, field, and flood grow dim. 
 
f4: ZAMBA. [Act III. 
 
 Now, the sun has sunk to rest 
 Upon his fleecy bed of gold, 
 Each little warbler seeks its nest. 
 And flocks now hasten to the fold. 
 
 Come ! this is the hour to pray. 
 
 Our Father seek, at closing day. 
 
 See the dusky mantle fall 
 
 O'er the bright flowers and golden wave ; 
 
 Sad semblance of the mournful pall 
 
 That covers beauty in the grave. 
 Let us make our prayer to Him, 
 Whose brighter glories ne'er grow dim. 
 
 One, by one, the stars appear 
 Upon the heaven's deep sapphire arch ; 
 And like a host are marshalled there. 
 To follow Time's unwearied march. 
 
 Here we '11 sing our evening hymn 
 
 To the bright star of Bethlehem. 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. 75 
 
 Nora, good Nora ! 
 Thou who didst nurse me in my infant years, 
 Well do I remember thy kind care, scarce 
 Exceeded by a mother's. With her own, 
 Thy image, as I saw thee then, ever 
 Is blended. Over thee, my kind old nurse, 
 I much rejoice, that Heaven should thus extend 
 Its mercy. Hope scarcely whispered it, though 
 On wings of love to Mercy's Throne, I bore 
 Thee in my daily prayer ; and now, angels look 
 With joy upon the grace poured in thy heart 
 When age has blanched thy head. 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Yes, Lady, yes. 
 Nora is poor and sinful ; long has sinned. 
 My heart is touched to think how the great God 
 Is good to negro woman. Your prayer 
 He heard for Nora. I will bless him ever ! 
 
76 ZAMBA. [Act III. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 And thou dost well, good nurse ; 't is God alone 
 Who giveth good. Fmd we it in others 
 
 Or ourselves, it is from Him. 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Him I seek, 
 Where else can Nora go ? (Sings.) 
 
 Saviour, thou didst die for me, 
 Buy with thy life my liberty ; 
 Such thy love to me a slave, 
 Gav'st thyself my soul to save. 
 Thee I '11 seek, for thou canst free. 
 And wilt, from sin's hard slavery. 
 
 [Exeunt towards the sea.) 
 
 1 
 I 
 
Scene II.] ZAMBA. 77 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Twilight rapidly closing ; full moon rising ; JV*e- 
 groes coming from the seashore carrying heavy 
 burdens. 
 
 AUGUSTUS {advancing). 
 Ha ! slaves employed when they should seek repose 
 From toil laborious, under the beams 
 Of burning Cancer ! Who is the man 
 With heart that can thus use his fellow men ? 
 
 (To a slave.) 
 Who is your master ? 
 
 SLAVE. 
 
 The Count De Nouville. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 The Count De Nouville ! did I hear aright ? 
 Father of her I love ! Oh, how can I 
 Believe it true ? 
 
 ( To another slave.) 
 
 To whom do you belong ? 
 
75 ZAMBA, [Act 111. 
 
 SLAVE. 
 To Count Clermont. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 It must be so ! 
 These are my father's lands, my heritance. 
 These walks are all familiar, yonder grove, 
 Grown tall and thick since last its shade I trod. 
 By memory is marked with childhood's sports ; 
 And there the hedge which I have often passed 
 To meet my little playfellow, sweet Zelia ! 
 Days of my infancy ! dear recollections, 
 
 {Other negroes advancing,) 
 What do I see ? yon aged form bending 
 Beneath that load, too heavy for — ha ! he falls ! 
 
 [A stroke is heard.) 
 Hold villain ! strike not, — 
 
 SLAVE DRIVER. 
 
 Sir, I have orders 
 To see the work performed ; interference 
 Would on me bring blame. 
 
 {Exeunt slaves, passing quickly.) 
 
Scene II.] ZAMBA. 79 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 Now God so help me 
 As I protect these helpless ones I They know 
 Not yet Clermont, their master, rather friend. 
 Yes, friend and father to the most abased 
 That labors for me. Else could I not pray 
 To Thee, my Father, who in heaven art. 
 
 {Exit, ascending the hill.) 
 Enter Mphonse, 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Clermont ! did he say Clermont } he, the heir 
 Returned .'* Then must I use despatch : the work 
 No longer brooks delay. The slaves must rise. 
 Should they know their lord, and, knowing, love, 
 My plot would fail. Yonder fools he pitied. 
 This will win them to betray me ; strike now 
 Or die, I must. Zamba ! ho ! Zamba ! 
 
 {Zamha in the distance.) 
 He hears me not, I '11 after him. {Exit in running.) 
 
80 ZAMBA. [Act III. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Zelia with JVora ascending from the shore. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Alas, he comes not ! Yonder stately ship 
 Departs with the fresh breeze. O, my torn heart ! 
 Desponding thought sits heavy on it. 
 Fly from myself would I, and rest on Him 
 Who bears the weary ; Father in heaven ! name 
 Hallowed and sweet, filling with peace the soul. 
 He knows my griefs, my fears and murmurs, yet 
 Pities and forgives. O ! should wayward thought 
 Again intrude, find entrance in my breast, 
 Do thou expel it. Father, and, instead. 
 
 Plant holy resignation ! Fleeting, weak. 
 Are my best purposes : scarce formed, back rush 
 A thousand idle fancies, crushinor each 
 High resolve. 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Lady, hear old Nora, — night 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. 81 
 
 Comes fast : the dew will harm you. Mistress, dear, 
 Let us to the mansion. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Right, good Nora : 
 Hasten we then. 
 
 Zamba enters, crossing their path : his look is 
 troubled. 
 
 ZELIA {in a kind tone). 
 Good evening, Zamba. {Exit with JS'ora.) 
 
 ZAMBA, 
 
 Rather curse Zamba, gentle, most gentle one ! 
 
 T would ease my thoughts and nerve my arm. 
 
 Coward 
 Blood rushes back on this heart at sight of thee. 
 Those eyes of innocence are daggers, and 
 The softest murmur of thy voice doth strike me 
 With panic fear, but inspires no pity. 
 Zamba ! in infancy, didst feed on milk 
 6 
 
82 ZAMBA. [Act III. 
 
 Of tigers ? Had woman nursed thee, pity 
 Were in thy breast for woman. 
 
 (jfife gazes after her.) 
 Ha ! whence ? who ? 
 Who is this stranger ? stranger ? no, Zelia 
 In close and fond embrace he clasps. Alphonse 
 Spoke of the Lord Clermont ; perchance 't is he. 
 He ! Clermont ! For him also prepare the cup 
 Of Death ^ Wretch ! by yon wave I 've sworn it ! 
 
 Die ! 
 Must he .'' noble, young, and happy ! Ha ! what ! 
 They love, that gentle pair ; smiles on their cheeks. 
 And tears on hers, like dew on rosebuds ; their 
 
 eyes 
 Sparkle with joy, as stars in the clear heaven. 
 Such joy was once my own. Thou, Amaba ! 
 Thou thus didst gaze upon thy Zamba then, 
 But thou art gone, Amaba ; thou art dead. 
 Dead ! ha ! Who slew thee ? He ! Vengeance 
 
 awaken ! 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. 83 
 
 Amaba calls thee from the chilly waves. 
 Mournful her spirit cries to ^Tamba's soul 
 And chases pity thence. Drink, drink the cup, 
 Sweet youth ; with her 't will not be bitter. 
 With her ? — Zelia! and must she drink it too ? 
 
 (^He pauses.) 
 Ill was I once, 
 Suffering from pain and want ; no friend to care 
 For Zamba. With temples throbbing, burning 
 With fever and tormenting thirst, life 
 Was too bitter : still I clung to it. Then 
 Came the angel mercy in her shape ; yes, 
 Zelia brought help and comfort, gave me life. 
 Have I then grown a monster ? — Ha ! 
 Come they this way ? then, like a troubled ghost 
 Let me fly morning light. {Exit.) 
 
 Enter Augustus and Zelia. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 I scarce yet give 
 
84 ZAMBA. [Act III. 
 
 Credit to my sight, but fear to waken 
 From a pleasant dream and find thee gone. 
 Thanks deep and fervent render we to Him 
 Who o'er thee watched and brought to — 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 Ah, dearest, 
 Words are but feeble emblems of the thought. 
 Forgive my silence, tears might best express, 
 Were they not too unmanly, what I feel. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 It was but now that bodings dark, of storms^ 
 And wrecks, brought terror to my mind. 
 Anxious from yonder height, I watched a sail 
 That, flapping in the breeze, of anchorage 
 Gave signs. Disappointed hope to grief gave 
 Place when it departed ; for you escaped 
 My gaze and took me unawares. True is it, 
 That help is nearest when hope is farthest. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 My eye, my ear, now take large draughts of bliss, 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. 85 
 
 Deprived so long. Your father's blest designs 
 Know you, dearest ? 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 I do. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 And sanction them .'' 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Augustus, can you doubt ? 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 No, sweet one, but 
 Confirmation of this hope from thee was bliss 
 My heart sought to enjoy. Now take, vain world ! 
 Thy boasted gifts away, I have enough, 
 Zelia and Heaven. (Exeunt.) 
 
86 ZAMBA. [Act III. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Saloon in the house of the Baroness of Belfont. 
 Baroness reclining in a languid manner on a sofa. 
 Ji young mulatto girl, richly attired, decorated 
 with massive chains and rings of gold, sitting upon 
 the floor at the feet of the Baroness, fanning her. 
 A servant woman waiting at a distance. 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 A stranger, say you, 
 And he unattended at this late hour ? 
 Olinde, when will you cease these idle tales ? 
 Not long since you stunned me with the 'count 
 Of some poor starving and disgusting wretch, 
 Who craved from me assistance. Another 
 Comes ; some poor adventurer on foot. Go 
 With such messages to my Intendant : 
 It is his business. And, — and, — stay OHnde ! 
 Wants he, this stranger I mean, a supper 
 
Scene IV.] ZAMBA. 87 
 
 And a bed, why give it him ; he shall not say 
 The house of Belfont was discourteous. 
 Importune me no more. (Exit servant.) 
 
 My humor is 
 Not to be disturbed. I am weary. The day. 
 Myself, and the whole world displease me. 
 Zelia, the Count, all wrapped within themselves, 
 Are selfish, gloomy : and then the homage 
 Expected daily from those whose business is 
 To flatter women and on them bestow 
 The attention claimed by beauty, such homage 
 To-day has failed. Time was, — why talk of time ? 
 Since time has brushed but lightly o'er these 
 
 charms, 
 Nor dimmed their lustre : so says my glass : 
 
 {Looking at herself in a mirror,) — then 
 Small cause for such chagrin. ; an accident 
 Of light esteem, had not Zelia, in my mind, 
 Waked doubts of the future. Sickness, age, and 
 
 death 
 
98 ZAMBA. [Act III. 
 
 Are ugly in perspective ; suffering 
 
 In body, charms decayed or lost ; and then, 
 
 The last, but greatest terror, death ! O why 
 
 Do I thus tremble ? doubtless many years 
 
 Are yet before me ; still, death and the tomb. 
 
 So lonely, horrible, will come at last. 
 
 I cannot be exempt from the sad tax 
 
 Of human nature. These eyes must close 
 
 To all life's joys. What then ! what then ? Ah 
 
 then 
 To Judgment. — Priests say to Purgatory, 
 And that masses well paid, will liberate. 
 After ages passed in pain. Small comfort. 
 Philosophers do say that death is sleep 
 Which lasts for ever ; this like I better ; 
 But the thought is dreary. Sleep for ever ! 
 Why, on such conditions, is life given ? 
 O fate ! most cruel, inexorable. 
 That placed me here. Fate ! what ! who ! where 
 
 is fate ? 
 
Scene TV.] ZAMBA. 89 
 
 I am sore bewildered. Let me to bed, 
 And if I can, forget in sleep, the thoughts 
 That waking, would distract me. (Going.) 
 
 (Reenter servant.) 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 My lady, 
 The Count of Clermont is the stranger. 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 How ? 
 My nephew ! Joy, joy ! distracting thoughts 
 Away ! I fly to meet him. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
90 ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 SCENE I. CuUivated grounds, slaves at work. 
 Time, Sabbath. 
 ALPHONSE {to the Slaves). 
 Yes, thus it is ; all work, work, work ! no time 
 For rest. They tell us of a holy day 
 When men in other lands from labor cease : 
 Such custom not for us. Good friends, dear friends ! 
 Much I pity you ; myself I pity too. 
 The rich man sleeps, we wake to toil ; 
 And when he rises from his couch of ease, 
 Some hours have passed, since from the flinty bed, 
 Our limbs, weary with short repose, have risen. 
 On our bare heads the sun falls vertical. 
 And shelter none we find from wind and storm. 
 They, our masters, are made of other blood : 
 Their forms are delicate ; the sun at noon, 
 Or falling dews, they cannot bear. 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. 91 
 
 And one like us, with skin of bronze, must shade, 
 (For lightest reed is in their fingers heavy,) 
 Yes, shade them from the ray that tarnishes 
 Their fairness ! [Murmurs among the slaves.) 
 
 Murmur not, good friends ; 
 Why should we ? this is trifling : we were made 
 To serve the white man ; we must be patient 
 And submissive. True, scorn is hard to bear, 
 But scorn will hurt us not. Would it were food ! 
 Then might we have withal our mouths to fill ! 
 Of this no need to speak, food does not lack ; 
 Coarse it is true, but suffices hunger. 
 Why then complain ? What to you is it 
 That the dainty stomach of the white man 
 Craves daintier nourishment } Has he not gold 
 To satisfy his wants ? Be content, my friends ; 
 Why should ye murmur ? 
 
 SLAVES. 
 
 We would our rights ; 
 This gold is ours, fruit of our own labor. 
 
9^ ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 True, but ye are slaves ; therefore be silent. 
 No right have ye to gold : gold has its right 
 In you ; it was the price paid for you. Friends ! 
 Good friends ! be quiet ; — nay then, hear me out. 
 Ye are strong and young, and happy, — 
 
 SLAVES. 
 
 Nay, nay, 
 Not happy, — we want freedom, rest, and gold. 
 
 ALPHONSE, 
 
 Good friends, ye are impatient ; hear me out. 
 
 I tell ye, to complain ye have no cause ; 
 
 But cause ye may have ! Manhood can bear, age 
 
 Cannot ; and ye are growing old ; labor 
 
 Will then be hard, and perchance like Cauda, — 
 
 Yes, like old Cauda ; know ye poor Cauda ? 
 
 SLAVES. 
 
 The aged one ? We know her : what of her ? 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Within my hut I sat at yester eve, 
 
Scene 1.] ZAMBA. 93 
 
 A trembling voice I heard, ''Give me some food," 
 It said. I looked and Canda's withered form, 
 Half bent with age, stood suppliant at my door. 
 And well did I remember her, for late 
 I 'd seen a cruel driver lay the scourge 
 On this poor aged wretch. Her speech pursued : 
 " The troubles of my life are nearly done. 
 But I would food, and would not die alone. 
 My master says, Since work you can no more, 
 Go to the fields and die ! Would I were dead ! " 
 The tears ran down her cheeks. Have you no child. 
 Poor Cauda, then, I said, to care for you ? 
 "None, none; on Guinea's coast my children 
 
 stayed. 
 To white man's land I came alone. There 's none 
 To care for Cauda ! " 
 
 (Raising his voice.) Such are your mis'ries, 
 
 Ye sable sons of Africa ! and will 
 Ye tamely bear them ? slaves are ye then, both 
 In soul and body. 
 
94 ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 Slaves, in loud cries. 
 
 No ! no ! freedom we 
 Will have ! ^ 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Vain is your boast, for coward blood 
 Runs in your veins ! When this tongue is silent 
 Basely will ye return to servile toil ; 
 Luxuries provide the white, being denied 
 The bread your little ones demand ! 
 Clothe him with finest stuffs, yourselves in rags 
 Which scarcely cover ye : furnish for him 
 
 costly couch, 
 Yours the hard plank : yield to him the labor 
 Of your youth, your life, and when useless grown, 
 To be cast off, like superannuated 
 Brutes, to die unsuccoured. 
 
 Slaves throw down their implements of labor. 
 Rather die now ! 
 We '11 have the white man's blood ! Give us a 
 
 leader ! 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. 95 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 In me behold him. Your wrongs are mine. Trust 
 To my care your lives and liberty, dearer 
 Than my own. 
 
 SLAVES. 
 
 Long live Alphonse, our chief. 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Trust 
 To me, friends ; my plan is laid ; hundreds are 
 gained (In a low tone.) 
 
 And ready to strike the blow. Midnight hour 
 Will see us master of yon castle gates. 
 The sleep that settles this night on the eyes 
 Of our oppressors, shall know no waking ! 
 
 SLAVES. 
 
 Huzza, huzza ! freedom ! freedom ! freedom ! 
 Long live Alphonse, our chief! 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Good friends, forbear 
 
96 ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 These cries ; else may destruction rest on us 
 And on our dearest hopes. I must away ; 
 When night begins to fall, meet me yonder, 
 
 (Pointing.) 
 Where the lofty palmist rears its head, there 
 Shall you hear all ; and till then be silent 
 As the grave. {Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Saloon. Baroness of Belfont alone, sitting on a 
 
 sofa, in a thoughtful attitude. 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 Wherefore the gloom that like incubus sits 
 
 So heavy at my heart ; vainly I sought 
 
 By the sweet strains that never failed to charm, 
 
 In the enchanting measure of the dance, 
 
 In the smooth, racy jest, and merry laugh 
 
 Of cavalier and dame, to drive away 
 
 The melancholy fiend. 'T is vain ! The thought 
 
 With added force returns : One there exists 
 
Scene II.] ZAMBA. 97 
 
 To whom I must account. My feast, this day, 
 Zelia refused to grace ; sacred command 
 She plead. Divine the Power which can prevail 
 With one so young, to hide from the admiring gaze, 
 Such charms as hers. My nephew, too, displeasure 
 On his brow, took hasty leave, when revelry 
 Commenced with joyous song. How can this be ? 
 It is unnatural in such young years 
 
 To Ha ! Zelia and my nephew ! 
 
 {Enter Augustus and Zelia.) 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 I come, 
 Dear Lady, to pray you excuse, for what 
 May seem you ill. Not in discourtesy 
 Did I, this day, decline the honor of 
 Your feast ; but my heart has other customs 
 Learned. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 I, too, dear aunt, crave pardon. 
 
 .7 
 
9a ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 Nephew, 
 Methinks you might have spared offence : to me 
 Small matter, for my mind is sad : yet much 
 I marvel, that you can forego the life 
 Pleasure holds out to youth. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 Ah, dearest aunt ! 
 Have you not travell'd the enchanted ground, 
 Rifled the sweets of pleasure, drank of her cup 
 Circean ? What then ? her fruits most luscious. 
 Are they not at core armed with cruel points * 
 That wound the taster ? And the nectarous draught, 
 Has it not bitter in its sediment ? 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 I would, Augustus, I could answer nay : 
 I cannot ! But perchance it is in wealth 
 
 * Referring to a fruit in those Islands, of beautiful exterior, 
 with sharp thorns attached to the core or seed-vessel, that 
 wound those who are tempted to taste it. 
 
Scene II.] ZAMBA. 99 
 
 Thou seekest bliss ? if so, to add to thine 
 
 I have such store might satisfy the wish 
 
 Of Croesus. Thou art my heir, content thee. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 Riches 't is true possess their value ; but how much .'' 
 Can they buy friendship for the lonely heart ; 
 Or bring they comfort in affliction's hour ? 
 Do they pluck anguish from the couch of pain ; 
 Or will they draw the sting from sharp remorse ? 
 Can they bribe death for one short hour of life ? 
 Ah ! can they purchase Heaven ? 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 They cannot : 
 Yet is not earth without its good. If gold 
 Be trash, and riches do take wing, still fame 
 Is solid, good and lasting. To be famed 
 For beauty, honor, wisdom, must give bliss. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 Let Beauty speak. Its bloom and fragrance rare 
 Fade in the sun and waste upon the breeze, 
 
100 ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 And time, the pilferer, leaves it not a charm. 
 Beauty that 's past, like sear and faded flowers. 
 Is gone : the hearts it gained, will fly to charms 
 Newer and brighter. 
 
 Let the illustrious, 
 Proclaim their victories. O'er midnight lamps 
 They 've toiled, in tented fields they 've bled, and 
 
 found 
 The good they sought ; but what is it ? listen : 
 Vanity and vexation are inscribed 
 On all : fools have done as much as we, and 
 Praise is but breath, passing like summer breeze, 
 Rippling the ocean but to toss a straw. 
 The next hour 't is still, and the straw moves not : 
 Thus with fame. Shall we cater then for joys 
 Of sense, with them to feed the mind ? seeking 
 Its high ambition to content, with praise 
 Of mortals ; persuade the noble Reason 
 That dust is treasure ? never. 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. 101 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 Then, whither go, 
 With the fond yearning of th' unsated soul ? 
 How satisfy the longing of the heart, 
 That sought for happiness from every breeze 
 Or gleam of sunshine, calling it good. 
 Substantial good ? I sought it from the world 
 And in myself, but vainly sought : where then 
 Shall I seek happiness .'* 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 In God alone, the source 
 Of good, we find the spring of joy unfailing. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Path to the seashore, shaded with vines and flowering 
 
 shrubs* Augustus and Zelia. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Happiness ! 
 Earth is full of it ; so light within me 
 
102 ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 Sits my spirit, I seem to move on air : 
 
 Mere words, a vehicle for thought too heavy. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 Add to them wings of music, dearest ; 
 And while the path we thread to the cottage 
 Of pious Lawton, it will calm thy thought 
 Love, to pour it out in song. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Willingly, 
 If thus it please thee. 
 
 {She sings.) 
 How pleasant to breathe the opening buds, 
 That perfume the softening gale ; 
 And sweet to rove where the summer floods 
 Wind through the leafy vale : 
 There with the friend we love, to stray, 
 While watching the gentle swell 
 Of the silvery wave, and list to the lay 
 Of the evening bird, as she sings farewell 
 To the gorgeous sovereign of day. 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. 103 
 
 And pleasant the sound of the hallowed bell, 
 
 That tells of the hour of prayer ; 
 
 And pleasant the sound of the organ's deep swell 
 
 And the hymn as it bursts on the ear. 
 
 But sweeter far with the friend we love, 
 
 Away from the busy world to rove, 
 
 And walk to the house of prayer ; 
 
 We feel that our Father, who hears from above. 
 
 With blessing will meet us there. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 True, dearest ; 
 Friendship 's the balm of life, the honied drop 
 By mercy mingled in the cup of woe ; 
 When wealth and beauty pass, and the world's smile 
 Passes with them, does friendship follow too ? 
 Not so ; purer and warmer far its flame : 
 Glowing within the heart in sorrow's hour. 
 The world too joyous, flies the couch of pain ; 
 Friendship is there, to pillow on its breast 
 
104 ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 The aching head. Such friend to me, thou 'It be 
 My ZeUa ! and I, such friend to thee. 
 
 ((Sings.) 
 Should old Time, with heavy pace, 
 Wear furrows in thy lovely face. 
 Brushing away its bloom and grace, 
 Grief nigh thee, 
 Earth fly thee. 
 Still love's immortal smile, Time cannot chase. 
 
 (Both sing.) 
 Then by the stream of life borne down. 
 In other's bliss, ourselves we crown ; 
 Pass lightly by the world's cold frown. 
 Side by side 
 May we glide, 
 'Scaping all storms, safe to the port of rest. 
 
Scene IV.] ZAMBA. 105 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Seashore ; Cottage, negroes outside, in the attitude of 
 worship ; among them is Zamha, in deep attention. 
 Mr Lawton standing at the porch, Augustus and 
 ZeliUj at a little distance, approaching the cottage, 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 See, there he stands, in meek humility ; 
 Lifting up holy hands with fervent prayer. 
 Prayer for the sinful, sorrowful, and weak. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 Ah, what a prayer was that ! it seemed as Heaven 
 Drew near to earth, and God was there to hear. 
 And was he not .'* sure from his dwelling-place 
 High in the heavens, he looks on man below, 
 And listens when his servants plead. Their tears 
 He gathers up, sending down showers of grace, 
 To water seed they sow in sadness here. 
 Listen we to the message. 
 
 ( They approach the porch.) 
 
106 ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 MR. LAWTON {speoks to the slaves). 
 
 My children ! 
 Hear the words from Heaven, speaking good-will. 
 Burdened are ye ? Sweet rest to you they bring ; 
 Rest in your God from sorrow, guilt, despair. 
 Hungry are ye ? Here is the bread of life. 
 Thirsty ? A spring from the fount eternal, 
 Sends out pure water ; drink, and live for ever. 
 Are ye in want ? Treasure is freely given, 
 Treasure unfailing ; more than the whole store 
 From old Golconda's mine : the pearl of price. 
 More precious than the product, all amassed 
 Of ocean in its twice ten thousand caves. 
 Enslaved are ye ? the jubilee is come. 
 The price is paid ; return ye ransomed ones. 
 Do bitter sorrows press around the heart ? 
 Come, then, and cast them at the feet of Him, 
 Who bore our sorrows and who shares our griefs. 
 No friend have you ? He is a friend unfailing ; 
 
Scene IV.] ZAMBA. 107 
 
 Brother is not so near, mother so kind. 
 No home ? Look then away from earth, see, far 
 Beyond the confines of this narrow world, 
 Higher than yonder stars and the pure sky, 
 A dwelling is prepared, in which the light 
 Of our own sun would be but darkness ; for 
 It is lighted by the smile of Him, who, 
 In light unconceived, doth dwell. My friends ; 
 Such is the home prepared in Heaven, for those 
 Who love and serve the blessed Son of God. 
 There tears are shed no more, and every chain 
 Is broken. 
 
 Poor wanderer ! frail, guilty, desolate ; 
 Tossed by the storm and destin'd to the tomb ; 
 To-day art here, to-morrow in the dust ! 
 Wilt thou reject life, purity, and bliss ? — 
 And choose — {He pauses in emotion.) 
 
 (Zamba shows great agitation.) 
 
108 ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 AUGUSTUS {aside^ to Zelia), 
 Angels weep thus o'er sinning men. 
 
 MR. LAWTON (contiuues). 
 Fear not, ye little flock ; your father wills 
 A kingdom to bestow : Soon shall your labors 
 
 cease ; 
 The fight of faith be won, the crown bestowed. 
 Your mansion is prepared ; a few more tears, 
 A few more sighs, your Saviour calls you home ; 
 Press on, look upwards, and obtain the prize ! 
 [Hymn sung by a chorus of voices.) 
 
 How beautiful upon the mountains 
 
 Are the beams of rising day ; 
 
 How sweet the gush of bubbling fountains, 
 
 In the thirsty traveller's way. 
 
 How beautiful upon the mountains 
 Is the messenger of peace ! 
 And sweeter far than gushing fountains 
 Are the messages of grace. 
 
Scene IV.] ZAMBA. 109 
 
 To the mind, in darkness straying, 
 Bright the light of Truth appears ; 
 Upon the heart, where sorrow 's preying, 
 How the Gospel's comfort cheers. 
 
 To the tempted and forsaken 
 Sweet it is bright Hope to bring ; 
 To the soul by guilt o'ertaken 
 Doubly sweet of Grace to sing. 
 
 ( The negroes with reverence salute Mr. Lawton and 
 retire. Augustus and Zelia advance towards the 
 cottage and meet them. They speak in kind and 
 cheerful tone to the slaves.) 
 Good evening, friends, good evening to you all : 
 Glad are we to see ye. 
 
 ZAMBA {aside). 
 
 Wretched Zamba ! 
 Friend, say they ? O most accursed traitor ! 
 
110 ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 More blasting to me than the lightning's bolt, 
 Their looks so gentle and their words so kind. 
 
 AUGUSTUS {to the slaves). 
 'T is well employed, good friends, thus to attend 
 The pious counsels of yon holy man. 
 His words are words of truth, and point out good ; 
 Good here below and happiness in Heaven. 
 
 ZAMBA {aside). 
 And to lost Zamba misery in hell ! 
 
 SLAVE. 
 
 Thanks, dear Lord and Lady : blessings on you. 
 Thanks unto God our Father who didst give 
 Us such kind friends. Thanks for the Gospel too 
 And for this holy man. But more than all 
 Thanks for the blessed Saviour : for sinners 
 Like us he died. May we love God, and man, 
 Work faithfully, and when we die ascend 
 To Heaven ! 
 
 (Exeunt slaves, ascending the hill. Zamba retires 
 among the trees and falls on his knees.) 
 
Scene IV.] ZAMBA. HI 
 
 ZELIA. 
 My heart, Augustus, is now full of joy ; 
 Another drop would make it overflow. 
 O ! that the Lady Belfont might discover 
 The only source of joy, and taste the stream 
 Flowing from this Fount : Love to God, and 
 To our neighbour Love. This incorporate 
 With the love of self ; taking rise in Grace, 
 Fills up the channels made by human woe, 
 Expands in a broad flood, that flows 
 Through earth and heaven. 
 
 (JWr. Lawton, approaching from the cottage^ meets 
 Augustus and Zelia.) 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Lady, good eve ; permit 
 My welcome of the Lord Clermont, with thanks 
 For this attendance on our worship. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 Thanks 
 
112 ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 Would I pay to you, revered and worthy Sir, 
 For care upon these ignorant men bestowed. 
 More wretched made throuf^h ignorance and sin 
 Than by their servitude. I hail the day 
 Auspicious, which to minds benighted, brings 
 The light of Truth, and to those enslaved 
 Redemption : distant or near 't is bright. Beams 
 Of celestial glory alone outshine 
 Its radiance. Then, sin restrained, woe in 
 A fearful deluge shall cease o'er men to sweep. 
 Mercy and Justice, Love and Peace, the fruits 
 Of Eden's bowers, shall refresh once more 
 The human family. The chain that binds 
 The captive, body or soul, struck by the 
 Sledge of Truth, shall shiver into atoms ; 
 And man, rising from his thraldom, sing, 
 In chorus with the Angels, the Anthem 
 Of Liberty ! 
 
Scene TIL] ZAMBA. 113 
 
 Enter Count De JVouville, 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 What do I hear, and see ! 
 Augustus, thou ! and Zelia ! in discourse 
 Most treasonable, with a low dastard. 
 Who, with base intent to undermine 
 The fealty of our people, has landed 
 In this Isle ; not openly, but in treacherous 
 Privacy, has footing gained. Dark hints 
 I have just heard, of insurrection, and. 
 Questioning the faithful servitor of 
 The Lady Belfont, from Alphonse, I heard 
 Of nightly haunts of slaves, within this hut, 
 Inhabited by this mischievous man ! 
 
 {To Mr. Lawton.) 
 Whence came you, and by what authority 
 Are you here ^ 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 My lord, as fitly might 
 
 8 
 
H4 ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 I question by what right you such demand 
 
 Make of me. Have I not liberty to go 
 
 And come as likes me } May I not dwell here 
 
 Or there as suits me } But pardon reply, 
 
 I not in rudeness meant, though made to question 
 
 Most ungracious. Then, this my answer ; 
 
 By His authority, who gave command, 
 
 That until time shall end, his servants do, 
 
 To every soul of man, th' eternal truth, 
 
 And gospel of His grace, proclaim. 
 
 By such authority I came. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 No more ! 
 False man, I '11 hear no more ; away ! To lure 
 The simple and to draw the gold from fools. 
 And women, is thy trade. Holla there ; guards ! 
 I '11 teach this man devout, that e'er he thus 
 Practise his subtile arts, a grant he show 
 From other power. 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. 115 
 
 AUGUSTUS (to the guards). 
 
 Hold ! at your peril, hold ! 
 Dare not to lay unhallowed hand on him, 
 Who comes ambassador from the High Court, 
 Which soon must try, both you, and me, and all. 
 My house his home, his safe asylum, be ; 
 A temple where our God shall be adored. 
 The centre from which truth shall emanate, 
 Sheddinff forth radiant beams on our dark Isle. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Peace, peace, rash youth ! The vengeance of the 
 
 Church 
 May on your head be brought for heresy. 
 Vain is your boast of power ; for you depend 
 In person and possessions yet on me. 
 Your father's friend will pass as though unheard, 
 The warmth of wild enthusiasm : stir not 
 Then my wrath. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 My father's friend 
 
llg ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 I most duly honor ; still more, in him 
 Beholding the parent of my Zelia, 
 By him permitted to call mine, thus he 
 My father. These dear ties justly claim 
 My gratitude, my duty, love : but the debt 
 I owe unto my Saviour, God, cancel 
 They not ; annul not to Him allegiance. 
 Nor constrain me in his cause my interest 
 To disown, and on his name to suffer 
 Such foul reproach. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Infatuated boy, 
 Once more forbear ; presume not on my love. 
 Your duty, guards. 
 
 {Guards approach the missionary.) 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Father, do not this deed : 
 Sin not thus against God. With impunity 
 Upon this man your hand cannot be laid. 
 His wrong will be avenged. 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. 117 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 O, grief, madness ! 
 Words cannot express my shame and anger. 
 Zelia, my daughter, to me thus lost ! O, 
 How distorted now that mind, where fond hope 
 Pictured out the image of her who bore thee. 
 In thee I sought the joyousness that won my 
 'Early love. O cruel disappointment. 
 Thus to find my heart's best treasure ! 
 
 {To Mr. Lawton.) 
 'T is you, 
 Or such as you, have blasted my best hopes, 
 Have robbed declining years of happiness. 
 May every curse — 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 My father, curse him not. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 I will curse him ; my slaves he 's tampered with, 
 Until in mutiny they rise. They e'en 
 
Ilg ZAMBA. [Act IV. 
 
 Destroy each other ! Of my cattle, scarce 
 One is left. Perchance us to rob of life 
 They at this moment plot. 
 
 {To the guards.) 
 Bear him away 
 Unto the pavilion, and let the slave 
 Zamba be his watch this night. 
 
 ZELiA {to Augustus). 
 
 Now to the Lord 
 Who giveth help, let us look up ! 
 
 AUGUSTUS {to Mr. Lawton). 
 
 Good Sir, 
 All that a youth can do, count you upon. 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 Receive my thanks, young friends. Your laws for- 
 bid 
 My mission ; to them resistance would be 
 Wrong. Welcome are these bonds ; I receive them 
 With joy, as tokens of the honor, which 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. 119 
 
 On me is conferred : counted worthy 
 To suffer in the cause dearer to me 
 Than life. I go, led by Him on whom my hope 
 Is stayed. Be it to prison, his presence 
 There will bless ; be it to death, for ever 
 Shall I be with Him ! (Exit) 
 
 ZAMBA (^starts up from among the shrubs). 
 To him will I go, 
 This blessed man ! unbind him, set him free ! 
 If ever upon man the Christian's God 
 Has set his image, it is on this man. 
 My heart is bound to him : I '11 to his feet, 
 And pour out all my soul. I could almost 
 Adore him. From crime he yet may save me. 
 To my post let me fly. God of Christians, 
 Aid me ! (Exit.) 
 
120 ZAMBA. [Act V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. Midnight. The Count De ^Touville's 
 chamber. Ji lamp burning. The Count in agita- 
 tion walking the room. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 O, torture indescribable ! 
 If there be hell, within my breast it burns ! 
 If a just God, how terrible the thought ! 
 Wretch then am I, beyond all hope and help. 
 What have I done ? what can it be, but guilt, 
 That now with anguish makes my heart o'erflow. 
 I can endure no more. 
 My weeping child ! noble Augustus too ! 
 I would not hear. Minister of Heaven ! yes, 
 Such he seemed ; and O ! the look he gave of mute 
 Reproach as he followed. I cannot bear 
 To think that I, the Count De Nouville, should 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. ]21 
 
 Heap base insult on a man, and such a man ! 
 Shame burns my cheek ; my heart is torn ; is 't 
 
 guilt ? 
 What is guilt ? I never thought of it, but 
 When I felt the wrong that others did me. 
 And punished it. Is not he guilty, this man ? 
 My heart says not : then am I unjust. This 
 Can I acknowledge .'* confess myself at fault ! 
 O, that were mean. How can I bow to man ? 
 Yet am I not amenable to One 
 Above me ? I feel it so. Already 
 The sting I bear within me on myself 
 Turns, piercing my very soul. Is this all ? 
 If, for a single crime, the penalty 
 Death is imposed by man upon his fellow, 
 Then must death eternal be inflicted 
 For crimes innumerable against God. 
 Like waves they rise and swell, my sins, my sins ! 
 
122 ZAMBA. [Act V. 
 
 (jHTe sinks on a sofa, covering his face. Zamba enters 
 softly, stands contemplating his master, then kneels 
 before him.) 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 Look up, my master ! see one at your feet 
 Whom pride and passion made your deadliest foe. 
 Mercy I crave from Heaven, from you. This hour. 
 This very hour, my guilty hand prepared 
 To shed your blood ; cut down the loveliest flower 
 E'er bloomed in noble house, your Zelia. 
 
 COUNT {starting up). 
 Execrable monster ! thou art the fiend 
 Come to torment me now. Out of my sight ! 
 But no ! seize him ! where are my domestics ? 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 My lord, from Zamba nothing need you fear, 
 I come to save you. Here is my poignard : 
 Use it upon me when you doubt my truth. 
 The slaves are rising. 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. 123 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 How sayest thou ? rising ! 
 Alphonse spoke truth then, and the wretch Lawton, 
 A villain is and hypocrite. 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 Not so. 
 The villain is Alphonse ! By ambition 
 Urged, the slaves he practised on, and I, most 
 Miserable wretch, driven by revenge, I 
 Promised to give him aid. But he, my lord, 
 Of whom you speak, is innocent. Through him 
 I come to save, if it be not too late, 
 Your house and you. His word, the word of God, 
 Whom he doth serve, like an arrow pierced 
 The proud heart of Zamba. Appointed 
 His guard this night, I entered his prison 
 And told him all my guilt. He bade me fly 
 To you, confess my crime, my penitence. 
 " God," said the holy man, " who sees the heart. 
 
124 ZAMBA. [Act V. 
 
 Abhors deceit ; with sin concealed therein, 
 
 He will not pardon." With lightning's speed I 
 
 came, 
 First liberating him ; and he is gone 
 The pious slaves to assemble ; hoping that 
 His influence may quell this insurrection. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 I am confounded with my own folly ! 
 And thee — 
 
 {Shouts without.) 
 Ha ! what mean those shouts ? come 
 they — the — 
 O my daughter ! I fly to thy succour. 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 Trust me, 
 My master ; the slave Zamba will be true. 
 Remain within your chamber, for rebels 
 Are everywhere ; safety is not without. 
 Hither will I conduct the lady Zelia, 
 By this private way. 
 
Scene I.] ZAMBA. 125 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Take thy weapon ; in 
 Her defence thou 'It need it ; and Heaven speed 
 thee. 
 
 (Exit Zamba.) 
 How can I call on Heaven in my need ? 
 Which all my prosperous and happy days 
 Passed unacknowledged ? Mercy ! O mercy ! 
 On my aged head. Mercy upon my child ! 
 
 (JYoise increases.) 
 My poor people ! Zamba, much abused ! 
 Pardon, pardon, your wretched master. 
 And yonder holy man, servant of God ! — 
 
 {Female shrieks without.) 
 O ! God of mercy hear me, when I vow 
 To give to thee my wealth, my child, myself. 
 Save us in this hour ! 
 
126 ZAMBA. [Act V. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Bedchamber. Zelia in a loose dress. Shouts without, 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Ha ! again ! another and another ! 
 Nora, my nurse, why do you tarry thus ^ 
 {Enter JVora running.) 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Haste, lady ; throw this robe around you ; come. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 But whither, Nora ? why do you tremble ? 
 And these shouts, what mean they ? quick, O tell 
 me. 
 
 NORA. 
 
 Zamba I met within the passage ; he 
 Bade me use despatch ; — my lady hasten 
 To the Count's chamber, which faithful Zamba 
 Guards. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Nora, explain. Why to my father I 
 
Scene II.] ZAMBA. 127 
 
 Zamba guards the door : wherefore ? and these 
 
 shouts ? — 
 Say, quick ! 
 
 NORA {in a low impressive tone). 
 
 The slaves are risen to murder you ! 
 Murder the whites ! 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Now God of mercy shield ! 
 {Enter Baroness of Belfont, and ^Augustus, by an 
 opposite door.) 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 Thus far safe ; recline thee on this couch ; now 
 Must I away. Zelia, dearest, see thou 
 To the Lady of Belfont, and stir not 
 Hence, upon your peril. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Augustus, stay ; 
 What means this frightful tumult, this report 
 Of insurrection ? tell me. 
 
128 ZAMBA. [Act V. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 From deep sleep 
 This night was I awaked by Zamba. "Fly, 
 Fly," he said, " and save the Lady Belfont. 
 To the chamber of Lady Zelia guide her. 
 The slaves, conducted by Alphonse, revolt. 
 Lawton is freed, and hastes to seek for aid 
 Among his little flock. Go you to him ; 
 I, to defend the Count De Nouville." 
 He said, and darted from me ; then shielded 
 By the orange grove, hither, my aunt. 
 Conducted I to thee ; those most loved 
 Being united, claim undivided thought. 
 Beloved ones, I go. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Go not, I pray ! 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 Useless here my presence, dearest, my blood 
 In such defence, I would not spare. 
 
Scene II.] ZAMBA. 129 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 Yet stay, 
 Augustus ; to my father take us ; 
 This passage, by Zamba guarded, leads 
 To his chamber ; thither, for greater safety. 
 Guide us. 
 AUGUSTUS (raising the Baroness, who is kneeling). 
 Come then, dear aunt, arise ! let us away ; 
 Hasten we ! {A loud crash without.) 
 
 Ha ! they burst the outer door ! 
 Quick ! fly we to the Count ! 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 Help us, O God ! 
 The time is come when other help is vain. 
 Right were you, Zelia : to the truth I bow. 
 Mercy ! O God. (Exeunt.) 
 
130 ZAMBA. [Act V. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 A hall. Zamba, guarding the entrance to the CounVs 
 chamber. Alphonse, with armed negroes, bursts in. 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Ha, Zamba ! where didst hide thyself ? I sought 
 
 But vainly for thee. Hast administered 
 
 The poison ? Ah, I see, thou dost enter 
 
 The chamber of the Count, — soon Count no more. 
 
 How now ! silent, eh ! what 's this ! treachery ? 
 
 Have at thee, then ; thou diest ! 
 
 {Draws his sword on Zamba.) 
 ZAMBA (in an attitude of defence). 
 
 Hear me, Alphonse. 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 I will not hear thee, traitor ! 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 But a word : 
 There is a Power, Alphonse ; and you and I 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. 131 
 
 Must bow before it. Already conscience 
 In me accuser — 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! thou preachest. 
 Hast been to yon conventicle ? well, well, 
 Content thee now ; a chaplain will I have 
 Within my palace, to say mass, or prayers. 
 Pass we into the chamber ; come, undo the door. 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 Not so ; I prithee now, Alphonse, return 
 And quell this tumult. All may yet be well 
 And pardoned, — 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Pardoned ! say'st thou so, base slave ? 
 Coward ! thou hast spoken, this I pardon not ; 
 Take that, and that, slave ! 
 
 {He rushes on Zamba ; theyjight.) 
 (^Enter from the passage Augustus, Baroness, Zelia, 
 and JYora. 
 
132 ZAMBA. [Act V. 
 
 AUGUSTUS {to Alphonse, striking him with his sword). 
 And thou, villain, that ! 
 ALPHONSE {to the armed slaves). 
 Here are they all ; the lady Belfont, 
 The heir, the heiress, whites, foes to our race ; 
 Be brave, and finish this night's tragedy ; 
 To-morrow ye are free. Come on, and act 
 Like valiant men. 
 
 ZELiA (advancing to the slaves). 
 
 Friends, I see among you 
 Some I have succoured, tended in sickness. 
 I have fed your little ones, have been your friend. 
 Me would you injure ? I believe it not. 
 See, I trust you. 
 {Advancing nearer to them, they draw bach irresolute.) 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Listen not to her ; 
 It is to flatter you and beg for life, 
 Now ye have power. Come, here is plunder, 
 precious 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. I33 
 
 Gold, this ye shall have. Come on, fear not 
 The whites ; we '11 crush them, and the scourge 
 
 never 
 More shall ye feel. 
 
 (Aside.) So ! I goad them there. 
 
 They like not this discourse of scourge. 
 {To them.) Come, strike ! 
 
 {Slaves rush forward.) 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 Mercy ! mercy ! Alphonse, you, my brother ! 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Ha, Baronne ! do you thus confess ? 't is well ; 
 I now would have the part which to me falls 
 Of goods, my father left, you sole enjoying. 
 Render them up. Lady ! 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 Spare me, Alphonse ! 
 And take what part you will. 
 
134 ZAMBA. [Act V. 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 I will have all. 
 {Raises his sword to strike the Baroness.) 
 BARONESS (rushing bach). 
 Oj mercy ! mercy ! Heaven defend me now ! 
 
 (Zamba, placing himself before her, engages 
 Alphonse. Augustus defends Zelia.) 
 Count (entering armed, from the chamber). 
 My child ! my friends ! to die with you I come, 
 Or help defend ! 
 
 ALPHONSE. 
 
 Now have at him ! Huzza ! 
 We '11 have them all : let our oppressors fall. 
 SLAVES (who rush with raised weapons upon the 
 Count, shouting). 
 Revenge ! revenge ! Let our oppressors fall ! 
 (^Enter Mr. Lawton with armed negroes, who surround 
 and disarm the insurgents.) 
 
Scene III.] ZAMBA. I35 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 God, in this hour of need, 
 Doth succour send. 
 ALPHONSE (^raising his sword over the head of the 
 Count.) 
 
 My arm shall hinder it. 
 ZAMBA [arrests the stroke, by piercing the breast of 
 
 Jllphonse.) 
 Die, if it must be ! though spare thee I would. 
 
 ALPHONSE {to Zamba). 
 Traitor ! thou hast conquered ; O death ! (Dies.) 
 
 COUNT, 
 
 Thanks, thanks ! 
 Where begin, where end them ? I am o'erwhelmed. 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 To Him, who saved us in this fearful hour, 
 Be praise first offered. 
 
 BARONESS. 
 
 With reverence 
 And love, Him would I praise, while sound sits on 
 
136 ZAMBA. [Act V. 
 
 These lips. Hope, in my heart with trembling 
 
 enters, 
 Of pardon, for my past forgetfulness ; 
 May mercy now its blessed earnest be. 
 
 ZELIA. 
 
 ! blessed evil, bringing forth such good. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Virtue and truth triumphant in this hour 
 Shall o'er us reign for ever. Zamba, friend ! 
 No more a slave, as nature's freeman honor 
 
 1 thee, preserver of my house : this debt 
 My means can never cancel. Injured much 
 Wast thou, but God avenged thee. On my head, 
 Like coals of living fire, hast thou, for wrongs, 
 Rewarded benefits. Forgiveness prove 
 
 By the acceptance of my friendship here. 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 Bonds stronger than my former chains unite 
 Me to your house. My lord, you henceforth 
 
Scene TIL] ZAMBA. I37 
 
 May command the heart and hand of Zamba. 
 God that heart has changed : with heart, with hand. 
 With tongue I '11 serve him ever. 
 
 COUNT (to Mr. Lawton). 
 To you, what shall I say, who, sent by Heaven, 
 I met with injury both deep and base ? 
 Seeking my good, the good of these poor souls, 
 I meant you harm. Shame stains my cheek while 
 
 thus 
 Your wrongs I own. 
 
 MR. LAWTON. 
 
 My lord, think not on them. 
 But on the Friend, who died that you, and I, 
 And all who trust in Him might ever live : 
 By whose help the ills of life enduring. 
 We pass to joys eternal. Led by Him, 
 Press onward to the prize, of conquest sure : 
 The young and old, high born and low, master 
 And slave, admitted to the lists, contend. 
 10 
 
138 ZAMBA. [Act V, 
 
 This world is not the end of our being. 
 
 Life is a journey ; all its stages marked 
 
 By Wisdom infinite. Following 
 
 Such Leader, be it e'en through flood or flame, 
 
 The City of our Rest triumphant shall 
 
 We enter. There all ranks are equal : Love 
 
 Reigns eternally. 
 
 COUNT. 
 
 Here also let it reign 
 In us. 
 
 (To the slaves.) 
 My friends ! yes doubly are ye so : 
 My friends, by service this night rendered ; 
 And by the service we will jointly pay 
 To the Great Master unto whom we owe, 
 I and ye all, the service of the heart, 
 And lip, and life. Much have I this night learned 
 Of these my duties ; much still I hope to learn. 
 And hope you all will learn, from that good man, 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 ZAMBA. 
 
 139 
 
 To whom our debt is large. I would make it 
 Larger. Bankrupt, it rests upon my Surety. 
 Debts immense to God, to man ruin involving. 
 By Him are cancelled ! 
 
 (To Mr. Lawton.) 
 
 He will repay you, — 
 I can never. 
 
 ;■>;* 
 

 ZAMBA, 
 
 
 OR 
 
 THE 
 
 INSURRECTION. 
 
 •• 
 
 • 
 ••• 
 
 A 
 
 DRAMATIC POEM, 
 
 
 ISi FIVE ACTS. 
 
 
 BY 
 
 Mrs 
 
 .ELIZABETH RICORD, 
 
 AUTHOR OP " 
 
 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF MIND APPLIED 
 
 TO THE 
 
 DBVKTrflPMENT OP THOUGHT AND FEELING." 
 
 
 CAMBRIDGE: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JOHN OWEN. | 
 
 
 1842. 
 
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