ACT III.

SCENE I.—The Hall of the Palace illuminated—SARDANAPALUS and his Guests at Table.—A storm without, and Thunder occasionally heard during the Banquet.

Sar. Fill full! why this is as it should be: here Is my true realm, amidst bright eyes and faces Happy as fair! Here sorrow cannot reach.

Zam. Nor elsewhere—where the King is, pleasure sparkles.

Sar. Is not this better now than Nimrod's huntings, Or my wild Grandam's chase in search of kingdoms She could not keep when conquered?

Alt. Mighty though They were, as all thy royal line have been, Yet none of those who went before have reached The acme of Sardanapalus, who 10 Has placed his joy in peace—the sole true glory.

Sar. And pleasure, good Altada, to which glory Is but the path. What is it that we seek? Enjoyment! We have cut the way short to it, And not gone tracking it through human ashes, Making a grave with every footstep.

Zam. No; All hearts are happy, and all voices bless The King of peace—who holds a world in jubilee.

Sar. Art sure of that? I have heard otherwise; Some say that there be traitors.

Zam. Traitors they 20 Who dare to say so!—'Tis impossible. What cause?

Sar. What cause? true,—fill the goblet up; We will not think of them: there are none such, Or if there be, they are gone.

Alt. Guests, to my pledge! Down on your knees, and drink a measure to The safety of the King—the monarch, say I? The God Sardanapalus! [ZAMES and the Guests kneel, and exclaim— Mightier than His father Baal, the God Sardanapalus! [It thunders as they kneel; some start up in confusion.

Zam. Why do you rise, my friends? in that strong peal His father gods consented.

Myr. Menaced, rather. 30 King, wilt thou bear this mad impiety?

Sar. Impiety!—nay, if the sires who reigned Before me can be Gods, I'll not disgrace Their lineage. But arise, my pious friends; Hoard your devotion for the Thunderer there: I seek but to be loved, not worshipped.

Alt. Both— Both you must ever be by all true subjects.

Sar. Methinks the thunders still increase: it is An awful night.

Myr. Oh yes, for those who have No palace to protect their worshippers. 40

Sar. That's true, my Myrrha; and could I convert My realm to one wide shelter for the wretched, I'd do it.

Myr. Thou'rt no God, then—not to be Able to work a will so good and general, As thy wish would imply.

Sar. And your Gods, then, Who can, and do not?

Myr. Do not speak of that, Lest we provoke them.

Sar. True—, they love not censure Better than mortals. Friends, a thought has struck me: Were there no temples, would there, think ye, be Air worshippers?[v] that is, when it is angry, 50 And pelting as even now.

Myr. The Persian prays Upon his mountain.

Sar. Yes, when the Sun shines.

Myr. And I would ask if this your palace were Unroofed and desolate, how many flatterers Would lick the dust in which the King lay low?

Alt. The fair Ionian is too sarcastic Upon a nation whom she knows not well; The Assyrians know no pleasure but their King's, And homage is their pride.

Sar. Nay, pardon, guests, The fair Greek's readiness of speech.

Alt. Pardon! sire: 60 We honour her of all things next to thee. Hark! what was that?

Zam. That! nothing but the jar Of distant portals shaken by the wind.

Alt. It sounded like the clash of—hark again!

Zam. The big rain pattering on the roof.

Sar. No more. Myrrha, my love, hast thou thy shell in order? Sing me a song of Sappho[18]; her, thou know'st, Who in thy country threw——

Enter PANIA, with his sword and garments bloody, and disordered. The guests rise in confusion.

Pan. (to the Guards). Look to the portals; And with your best speed to the walls without. Your arms! To arms! The King's in danger. Monarch 70 Excuse this haste,—'tis faith.

Sar. Speak on.

Pan. It is As Salemenes feared; the faithless Satraps——

Sar. You are wounded—give some wine. Take breath, good Pania.

Pan. 'Tis nothing—a mere flesh wound. I am worn More with my speed to warn my sovereign, Than hurt in his defence.

Myr. Well, Sir, the rebels?

Pan. Soon as Arbaces and Beleses reached Their stations in the city, they refused To march; and on my attempt to use the power Which I was delegated with, they called 80 Upon their troops, who rose in fierce defiance.

Myr. All?

Pan. Too many.

Sar. Spare not of thy free speech, To spare mine ears—the truth.

Pan. My own slight guard Were faithful, and what's left of it is still so.

Myr. And are these all the force still faithful?

Pan. No— The Bactrians, now led on by Salemenes, Who even then was on his way, still urged By strong suspicion of the Median chiefs, Are numerous, and make strong head against The rebels, fighting inch by inch, and forming 90 An orb around the palace, where they mean To centre all their force, and save the King. (He hesitates.) I am charged to——

Myr. 'Tis no time for hesitation.

Pan. Prince Salemenes doth implore the King To arm himself, although but for a moment, And show himself unto the soldiers: his Sole presence in this instant might do more Than hosts can do in his behalf.

Sar. What, ho! My armour there.

Myr. And wilt thou?

Sar. Will I not? Ho, there!—but seek not for the buckler: 'tis 100 Too heavy:—a light cuirass and my sword. Where are the rebels?

Pan. Scarce a furlong's length From the outward wall the fiercest conflict rages.

Sar. Then I may charge on horseback. Sfero, ho! Order my horse out.—There is space enough Even in our courts, and by the outer gate, To marshal half the horsemen of Arabia. [Exit SFERO for the armour.

Myr. How I do love thee!

Sar. I ne'er doubted it.

Myr. But now I know thee.

Sar. (to his Attendant). Bring down my spear too— Where's Salemenes?

Pan. Where a soldier should be, 110 In the thick of the fight.

Sar. Then hasten to him——Is The path still open, and communication Left 'twixt the palace and the phalanx?

Pan. 'Twas When I late left him, and I have no fear; Our troops were steady, and the phalanx formed.

Sar. Tell him to spare his person for the present, And that I will not spare my own—and say, I come.

Pan. There's victory in the very word. [Exit PANIA.

Sar. Altada—Zames—forth, and arm ye! There Is all in readiness in the armoury. 120 See that the women are bestowed in safety In the remote apartments: let a guard Be set before them, with strict charge to quit The post but with their lives—command it, Zames. Altada, arm yourself, and return here; Your post is near our person. [Exeunt ZAMES, ALTADA, and all save MYRRHA.

Enter SFERO and others with the King's Arms, etc.

Sfe. King! your armour.

Sar. (arming himself). Give me the cuirass—so: my baldric; now My sword: I had forgot the helm—where is it? That's well—no, 'tis too heavy; you mistake, too— It was not this I meant, but that which bears 130 A diadem around it.

Sfe. Sire, I deemed That too conspicuous from the precious stones To risk your sacred brow beneath—and trust me, This is of better metal, though less rich.

Sar. You deemed! Are you too turned a rebel? Fellow! Your part is to obey: return, and—no— It is too late—I will go forth without it.

Sfe. At least, wear this.

Sar. Wear Caucasus! why, 'tis A mountain on my temples.

Sfe. Sire, the meanest Soldier goes not forth thus exposed to battle. 140 All men will recognise you—for the storm Has ceased, and the moon breaks forth in her brightness.

Sar. I go forth to be recognised, and thus Shall be so sooner. Now—my spear! I'm armed. [In going stops short, and turns to SFERO. Sfero—I had forgotten—bring the mirror[19].

Sfe. The mirror, Sire?

Sar. Yes, sir, of polished brass, Brought from the spoils of India—but be speedy. [Exit SFERO.

Sar. Myrrha, retire unto a place of safety. Why went you not forth with the other damsels?

Myr. Because my place is here.

Sar. And when I am gone—— 150

Myr. I follow.

Sar. You! to battle?

Myr. If it were so, 'Twere not the first Greek girl had trod the path. I will await here your return.

Sar. The place Is spacious, and the first to be sought out, If they prevail; and, if it be so, And I return not——

Myr. Still we meet again.

Sar. How?

Myr. In the spot where all must meet at last— In Hades! if there be, as I believe, A shore beyond the Styx; and if there be not, In ashes.

Sar. Darest thou so much?

Myr. I dare all things 160 Except survive what I have loved, to be A rebel's booty: forth, and do your bravest.

Re-enter SFERO with the mirror.

Sar. (looking at himself). This cuirass fits me well, the baldric better, And the helm not at all. Methinks I seem [Flings away the helmet after trying it again. Passing well in these toys; and now to prove them. Altada! Where's Altada?

Sfe. Waiting, Sire, Without: he has your shield in readiness.

Sar. True—I forgot—he is my shield-bearer By right of blood, derived from age to age. Myrrha, embrace me;—yet once more—once more— 170 Love me, whate'er betide. My chiefest glory Shall be to make me worthier of your love.

Myr. Go forth, and conquer! [Exeunt SARDANAPALUS and SFERO. Now, I am alone: All are gone forth, and of that all how few Perhaps return! Let him but vanquish, and Me perish! If he vanquish not, I perish; For I will not outlive him. He has wound About my heart, I know not how nor why. Not for that he is King; for now his kingdom Rocks underneath his throne, and the earth yawns 180 To yield him no more of it than a grave; And yet I love him more. Oh, mighty Jove! Forgive this monstrous love for a barbarian, Who knows not of Olympus! yes, I love him Now—now—far more than——Hark—to the war shout! Methinks it nears me. If it should be so, [She draws forth a small vial. This cunning Colchian poison, which my father Learned to compound on Euxine shores, and taught me How to preserve, shall free me! It had freed me Long ere this hour, but that I loved until 190 I half forgot I was a slave:—where all Are slaves save One, and proud of servitude, So they are served in turn by something lower In the degree of bondage: we forget That shackles worn like ornaments no less Are chains. Again that shout! and now the clash Of arms—and now—and now——

Enter ALTADA.

Alt. Ho, Sfero, ho!

Myr. He is not here; what wouldst thou with him? How Goes on the conflict?

Alt. Dubiously and fiercely.

Myr. And the King?

Alt. Like a king. I must find Sfero, 200 And bring him a new spear with his own helmet.[w] He fights till now bare-headed, and by far Too much exposed. The soldiers knew his face, And the foe too; and in the moon's broad light, His silk tiara and his flowing hair Make him a mark too royal. Every arrow Is pointed at the fair hair and fair features, And the broad fillet which crowns both.

Myr. Ye Gods, Who fulminate o'er my father's land, protect him! Were you sent by the King?

Alt. By Salemenes, 210 Who sent me privily upon this charge, Without the knowledge of the careless sovereign. The King! the King fights as he revels! ho! What, Sfero! I will seek the armoury— He must be there. [Exit ALTADA.

Myr. 'Tis no dishonour—no— 'Tis no dishonour to have loved this man. I almost wish now, what I never wished Before—that he were Grecian. If Alcides Were shamed in wearing Lydian Omphale's She-garb, and wielding her vile distaff; surely 220 He, who springs up a Hercules at once, Nursed in effeminate arts from youth to manhood, And rushes from the banquet to the battle, As though it were a bed of love, deserves That a Greek girl should be his paramour, And a Greek bard his minstrel—a Greek tomb His monument. How goes the strife, sir?

Enter an Officer.

Officer. Lost, Lost almost past recovery. Zames! Where Is Zames?

Myr. Posted with the guard appointed To watch before the apartment of the women. 230 [Exit Officer.

Myr. (sola). He's gone; and told no more than that all's lost! What need have I to know more? In those words, Those little words, a kingdom and a king, A line of thirteen ages, and the lives Of thousands, and the fortune of all left With life, are merged; and I, too, with the great, Like a small bubble breaking with the wave Which bore it, shall be nothing. At the least, My fate is in my keeping: no proud victor Shall count me with his spoils.

Enter PANIA.

Pan. Away with me, 240 Myrrha, without delay; we must not lose A moment—all that's left us now.

Myr. The King?

Pan. Sent me here to conduct you hence, beyond The river, by a secret passage.

Myr. Then He lives——

Pan. And charged me to secure your life, And beg you to live on for his sake, till He can rejoin you.

Myr. Will he then give way?

Pan. Not till the last. Still, still he does whate'er Despair can do; and step by step disputes The very palace.

Myr. They are here, then:—aye, 250 Their shouts come ringing through the ancient halls, Never profaned by rebel echoes till This fatal night. Farewell, Assyria's line! Farewell to all of Nimrod! Even the name Is now no more.

Pan. Away with me—away!

Myr. No: I'll die here!—Away, and tell your King I loved him to the last.

Enter SARDANAPALUS and SALEMENES with Soldiers. PANIA quits MYRRHA, and ranges himself with them.

Sar. Since it is thus, We'll die where we were born—in our own halls[x] Serry your ranks—stand firm. I have despatched A trusty satrap for the guard of Zames, All fresh and faithful; they'll be here anon. All is not over,—Pania, look to Myrrha. [PANIA returns towards MYRRHA.

Sal. We have breathing time; yet once more charge, my friends— One for Assyria!

Sar. Rather say for Bactria! My faithful Bactrians, I will henceforth be King of your nation, and we'll hold together This realm as province.

Sal. Hark! they come—they come.

Enter BELESES and ARBACES with the Rebels.

Arb. Set on, we have them in the toil. Charge! charge!

Bel. On! on!—Heaven fights for us, and with us—On!

[They charge the King and SALEMENES with their troops, who defend themselves till the arrival of ZAMES with the Guard before mentioned. The Rebels are then driven off, and pursued by SALEMENES, etc. As the King is going to join the pursuit, BELESES crosses him.

Bel. Ho! tyrant—I will end this war.

Sar. Even so, 270 My warlike priest, and precious prophet, and Grateful and trusty subject: yield, I pray thee. I would reserve thee for a fitter doom, Rather than dip my hands in holy blood.

Bel. Thine hour is come.

Sar. No, thine.—I've lately read, Though but a young astrologer, the stars; And ranging round the zodiac, found thy fate In the sign of the Scorpion, which proclaims That thou wilt now be crushed.

Bel. But not by thee. [They fight; BELESES is wounded and disarmed.

Sar. (raising his sword to despatch him, exclaims)— Now call upon thy planets, will they shoot 280 From the sky to preserve their seer and credit?

[A party of Rebels enter and rescue BELESES. They assail the King, who in turn, is rescued by a Party of his Soldiers, who drive the Rebels off.

The villain was a prophet after all. Upon them—ho! there—victory is ours. [Exit in pursuit.

Myr. (to Pan.) Pursue! Why stand'st thou here, and leavest the ranks Of fellow-soldiers conquering without thee?

Pan. The King's command was not to quit thee.

Myr. Me! Think not of me—a single soldier's arm Must not be wanting now. I ask no guard, I need no guard: what, with a world at stake, Keep watch upon a woman? Hence, I say, 290 Or thou art shamed! Nay, then, I will go forth, A feeble female, 'midst their desperate strife, And bid thee guard me there—where thou shouldst shield Thy sovereign. [Exit MYRRHA.

Pan. Yet stay, damsel!—She's gone. If aught of ill betide her, better I Had lost my life. Sardanapalus holds her Far dearer than his kingdom, yet he fights For that too; and can I do less than he, Who never flashed a scimitar till now? Myrrha, return, and I obey you, though 300 In disobedience to the monarch. [Exit PANIA.

Enter ALTADA and SFERO by an opposite door.

Alt. Myrrha! What, gone? yet she was here when the fight raged, And Pania also. Can aught have befallen them?

Sfe. I saw both safe, when late the rebels fled; They probably are but retired to make Their way back to the harem.

Alt. If the King Prove victor, as it seems even now he must, And miss his own Ionian, we are doomed To worse than captive rebels.

Sfe. Let us trace them: She cannot be fled far; and, found, she makes 310 A richer prize to our soft sovereign Than his recovered kingdom.

Alt. Baal himself Ne'er fought more fiercely to win empire, than His silken son to save it: he defies All augury of foes or friends; and like The close and sultry summer's day, which bodes A twilight tempest, bursts forth in such thunder As sweeps the air and deluges the earth. The man's inscrutable.

Sfe. Not more than others. All are the sons of circumstance: away— 320 Let's seek the slave out, or prepare to be Tortured for his infatuation, and[y] Condemned without a crime. [Exeunt.

Enter SALEMENES and Soldiers, etc.

Sal. The triumph is Flattering: they are beaten backward from the palace, And we have opened regular access To the troops stationed on the other side Euphrates, who may still be true; nay, must be, When they hear of our victory. But where Is the chief victor? where's the King?

Enter SARDANAPALUS, cum suis, etc., and MYRRHA.

Sar. Here, brother.

Sal. Unhurt, I hope.

Sar. Not quite; but let it pass. 330 We've cleared the palace——

Sal. And I trust the city. Our numbers gather; and I've ordered onward A cloud of Parthians, hitherto reserved, All fresh and fiery, to be poured upon them In their retreat, which soon will be a flight.

Sar. It is already, or at least they marched Faster than I could follow with my Bactrians, Who spared no speed. I am spent: give me a seat.

Sal. There stands the throne, Sire.

Sar. Tis no place to rest on, For mind nor body: let me have a couch, 340 [They place a seat. A peasant's stool, I care not what: so—now I breathe more freely.

Sal. This great hour has proved The brightest and most glorious of your life.

Sar. And the most tiresome. Where's my cupbearer? Bring me some water.

Sal. (smiling) 'Tis the first time he Ever had such an order: even I,[z] Your most austere of counsellors, would now Suggest a purpler beverage.

Sar. Blood—doubtless. But there's enough of that shed; as for wine, I have learned to-night the price of the pure element: 350 Thrice have I drank of it, and thrice renewed, With greater strength than the grape ever gave me, My charge upon the rebels. Where's the soldier Who gave me water in his helmet?[20]

One of the Guards. Slain, Sire! An arrow pierced his brain, while, scattering[aa] The last drops from his helm, he stood in act To place it on his brows.

Sar. Slain! unrewarded! And slain to serve my thirst: that's hard, poor slave! Had he but lived, I would have gorged him with Gold: all the gold of earth could ne'er repay 360 The pleasure of that draught; for I was parched As I am now. [They bring water—he drinks. I live again—from henceforth The goblet I reserve for hours of love, But war on water.

Sal. And that bandage, Sire, Which girds your arm?

Sar. A scratch from brave Beleses.

Myr. Oh! he is wounded![ab]

Sar. Not too much of that; And yet it feels a little stiff and painful, Now I am cooler.

Myr. You have bound it with——

Sar. The fillet of my diadem: the first time That ornament was ever aught to me, 370 Save an incumbrance.

Myr. (to the Attendants). Summon speedily A leech of the most skilful: pray, retire: I will unbind your wound and tend it.

Sar. Do so, For now it throbs sufficiently: but what Know'st thou of wounds? yet wherefore do I ask? Know'st thou, my brother, where I lighted on This minion?

Sal. Herding with the other females, Like frightened antelopes.

Sar. No: like the dam Of the young lion, femininely raging (And femininely meaneth furiously, 380 Because all passions in excess are female,) Against the hunter flying with her cub, She urged on with her voice and gesture, and Her floating hair and flashing eyes,[21] the soldiers, In the pursuit.

Sal. Indeed!

Sar. You see, this night Made warriors of more than me. I paused To look upon her, and her kindled cheek; Her large black eyes, that flashed through her long hair As it streamed o'er her; her blue veins that rose Along her most transparent brow; her nostril 390 Dilated from its symmetry; her lips Apart; her voice that clove through all the din, As a lute pierceth through the cymbal's clash, Jarred but not drowned by the loud brattling; her Waved arms, more dazzling with their own born whiteness Than the steel her hand held, which she caught up From a dead soldier's grasp;—all these things made Her seem unto the troops a prophetess Of victory, or Victory herself, Come down to hail us hers.[22]

Sal. (aside). This is too much. 400 Again the love-fit's on him, and all's lost, Unless we turn his thoughts. (Aloud.) But pray thee, Sire, Think of your wound—you said even now 'twas painful.

Sar. That's true, too; but I must not think of it.

Sal. I have looked to all things needful, and will now Receive reports of progress made in such Orders as I had given, and then return To hear your further pleasure.

Sar. Be it so.

Sal. (in retiring). Myrrha!

Myr. Prince!

Sal. You have shown a soul to-night, Which, were he not my sister's lord——But now 410 I have no time: thou lovest the King?

Myr. I love Sardanapalus.

Sal. But wouldst have him King still?

Myr. I would not have him less than what he should be.

Sal. Well then, to have him King, and yours, and all He should, or should not be; to have him live, Let him not sink back into luxury. You have more power upon his spirit than Wisdom within these walls, or fierce rebellion Raging without: look well that he relapse not.

Myr. There needed not the voice of Salemenes 420 To urge me on to this: I will not fail. All that a woman's weakness can——

Sal. Is power Omnipotent o'er such a heart as his: Exert it wisely. [Exit SALEMENES.

Sar. Myrrha! what, at whispers With my stern brother? I shall soon be jealous.

Myr. (smiling). You have cause, Sire; for on the earth there breathes not A man more worthy of a woman's love, A soldier's trust, a subject's reverence, A king's esteem—the whole world's admiration!

Sar. Praise him, but not so warmly. I must not 430 Hear those sweet lips grow eloquent in aught That throws me into shade; yet you speak truth.

Myr. And now retire, to have your wound looked to, Pray lean on me.

Sar. Yes, love! but not from pain. [Exeunt omnes.



ACT IV.

SCENE I.—SARDANAPALUS discovered sleeping upon a Couch, and occasionally disturbed in his slumbers, with MYRRHA watching.

Myr. (sola, gazing). I have stolen upon his rest, if rest it be, Which thus convulses slumber: shall I wake him? No, he seems calmer. Oh, thou God of Quiet! Whose reign is o'er sealed eyelids and soft dreams, Or deep, deep sleep, so as to be unfathomed, Look like thy brother, Death,[23]—so still, so stirless— For then we are happiest, as it may be, we Are happiest of all within the realm Of thy stern, silent, and unwakening Twin. Again he moves—again the play of pain 10 Shoots o'er his features, as the sudden gust Crisps the reluctant lake that lay so calm[ac] Beneath the mountain shadow; or the blast Ruffles the autumn leaves, that drooping cling Faintly and motionless to their loved boughs. I must awake him—yet not yet; who knows From what I rouse him? It seems pain; but if I quicken him to heavier pain? The fever Of this tumultuous night, the grief too of His wound, though slight, may cause all this, and shake 20 Me more to see than him to suffer. No: Let Nature use her own maternal means, And I await to second, not disturb her.

Sar. (awakening). Not so—although he multiplied the stars, And gave them to me as a realm to share From you and with you! I would not so purchase The empire of Eternity. Hence—hence— Old Hunter of the earliest brutes! and ye,[ad] Who hunted fellow-creatures as if brutes! Once bloody mortals—and now bloodier idols, 30 If your priests lie not! And thou, ghastly Beldame! Dripping with dusky gore, and trampling on The carcasses of Inde—away! away! Where am I? Where the spectres? Where—No—that Is no false phantom: I should know it 'midst All that the dead dare gloomily raise up From their black gulf to daunt the living. Myrrha!

Myr. Alas! thou art pale, and on thy brow the drops Gather like night dew. My beloved, hush— Calm thee. Thy speech seems of another world, 40 And thou art lord of this. Be of good cheer; All will go well.

Sar. Thy hand—so—'tis thy hand; 'Tis flesh; grasp—clasp—yet closer, till I feel Myself that which I was.

Myr. At least know me For what I am, and ever must be—thine.

Sar. I know it now. I know this life again. Ah, Myrrha! I have been where we shall be.

Myr. My lord!

Sar. I've been i' the grave—where worms are lords And kings are——But I did not deem it so; I thought 'twas nothing.

Myr. So it is; except 50 Unto the timid, who anticipate That which may never be.

Sar. Oh, Myrrha! if Sleep shows such things, what may not Death disclose?

Myr. I know no evil Death can show, which Life Has not already shown to those who live Embodied longest. If there be indeed A shore where Mind survives, 'twill be as Mind All unincorporate: or if there flits A shadow of this cumbrous clog of clay. Which stalks, methinks, between our souls and heaven, 60 And fetters us to earth—at least the phantom, Whate'er it have to fear, will not fear Death.

Sar. I fear it not; but I have felt—have seen— A legion of the dead.

Myr. And so have I. The dust we tread upon was once alive, And wretched. But proceed: what hast thou seen? Speak it, 'twill lighten thy dimmed mind.

Sar. Methought——

Myr. Yet pause, thou art tired—in pain—exhausted; all Which can impair both strength and spirit: seek Rather to sleep again.

Sar. Not now—I would not 70 Dream; though I know it now to be a dream What I have dreamt:—and canst thou bear to hear it?

Myr. I can bear all things, dreams of life or death, Which I participate with you in semblance Or full reality.

Sar. And this looked real, I tell you: after that these eyes were open, I saw them in their flight—for then they fled.

Myr. Say on.

Sar. I saw, that is, I dreamed myself Here—here—even where we are, guests as we were, Myself a host that deemed himself but guest, 80 Willing to equal all in social freedom; But, on my right hand and my left, instead Of thee and Zames, and our customed meeting, Was ranged on my left hand a haughty, dark, And deadly face; I could not recognise it, Yet I had seen it, though I knew not where: The features were a Giant's, and the eye Was still, yet lighted; his long locks curled down On his vast bust, whence a huge quiver rose With shaft-heads feathered from the eagle's wing, 90 That peeped up bristling through his serpent hair.[ae] I invited him to fill the cup which stood Between us, but he answered not; I filled it; He took it not, but stared upon me, till I trembled at the fixed glare of his eye: I frowned upon him as a king should frown; He frowned not in his turn, but looked upon me With the same aspect, which appalled me more, Because it changed not; and I turned for refuge To milder guests, and sought them on the right, 100 Where thou wert wont to be. But—— [He pauses.

Myr. What instead?

Sar. In thy own chair—thy own place in the banquet— I sought thy sweet face in the circle—but Instead—a grey-haired, withered, bloody-eyed, And bloody-handed, ghastly, ghostly thing, Female in garb, and crowned upon the brow, Furrowed with years, yet sneering with the passion Of vengeance, leering too with that of lust, Sate:—my veins curdled.[24]

Myr. Is this all?

Sar. Upon Her right hand—her lank, bird-like, right hand—stood 110 A goblet, bubbling o'er with blood; and on Her left, another, filled with—what I saw not, But turned from it and her. But all along The table sate a range of crowned wretches, Of various aspects, but of one expression.

Myr. And felt you not this a mere vision?

Sar. No: It was so palpable, I could have touched them. I turned from one face to another, in The hope to find at last one which I knew Ere I saw theirs: but no—all turned upon me, 120 And stared, but neither ate nor drank, but stared, Till I grew stone, as they seemed half to be, Yet breathing stone, for I felt life in them, And life in me: there was a horrid kind Of sympathy between us, as if they Had lost a part of death to come to me, And I the half of life to sit by them. We were in an existence all apart From heaven or earth——And rather let me see Death all than such a being!

Myr. And the end? 130

Sar. At last I sate, marble, as they, when rose The Hunter and the Crone; and smiling on me— Yes, the enlarged but noble aspect of The Hunter smiled upon me—I should say, His lips, for his eyes moved not—and the woman's Thin lips relaxed to something like a smile. Both rose, and the crowned figures on each hand Rose also, as if aping their chief shades— Mere mimics even in death—but I sate still: A desperate courage crept through every limb, 140 And at the last I feared them not, but laughed Full in their phantom faces. But then—then The Hunter laid his hand on mine: I took it, And grasped it—but it melted from my own; While he too vanished, and left nothing but The memory of a hero, for he looked so.

Myr. And was: the ancestor of heroes, too, And thine no less.

Sar. Aye, Myrrha, but the woman, The female who remained, she flew upon me, And burnt my lips up with her noisome kisses; 150 And, flinging down the goblets on each hand, Methought their poisons flowed around us, till Each formed a hideous river. Still she clung; The other phantoms, like a row of statues, Stood dull as in our temples, but she still Embraced me, while I shrunk from her, as if, In lieu of her remote descendant, I Had been the son who slew her for her incest.[25] Then—then—a chaos of all loathsome things Thronged thick and shapeless: I was dead, yet feeling— 160 Buried, and raised again—consumed by worms, Purged by the flames, and withered in the air! I can fix nothing further of my thoughts, Save that I longed for thee, and sought for thee, In all these agonies,—and woke and found thee.

Myr. So shalt thou find me ever at thy side, Here and hereafter, if the last may be. But think not of these things—the mere creations Of late events, acting upon a frame Unused by toil, yet over-wrought by toil— 170 Such as might try the sternest.

Sar. I am better. Now that I see thee once more, what was seen Seems nothing.

Enter SALEMENES.

Sal. Is the king so soon awake?

Sar. Yes, brother, and I would I had not slept; For all the predecessors of our line Rose up, methought, to drag me down to them. My father was amongst them, too; but he, I know not why, kept from me, leaving me Between the hunter-founder of our race, And her, the homicide and husband-killer, 180 Whom you call glorious.

Sal. So I term you also, Now you have shown a spirit like to hers. By day-break I propose that we set forth, And charge once more the rebel crew, who still Keep gathering head, repulsed, but not quite quelled.

Sar. How wears the night?

Sal. There yet remain some hours Of darkness: use them for your further rest.

Sar. No, not to-night, if 'tis not gone: methought I passed hours in that vision.

Myr. Scarcely one; I watched by you: it was a heavy hour, 190 But an hour only.

Sar. Let us then hold council; To-morrow we set forth.

Sal. But ere that time, I had a grace to seek.

Sar. 'Tis granted.

Sal. Hear it Ere you reply too readily; and 'tis For your ear only.

Myr. Prince, I take my leave. [Exit MYRRHA.

Sal. That slave deserves her freedom.

Sar. Freedom only! That slave deserves to share a throne.

Sal. Your patience— 'Tis not yet vacant, and 'tis of its partner I come to speak with you.

Sar. How! of the Queen?

Sal. Even so. I judged it fitting for their safety, 200 That, ere the dawn, she sets forth with her children For Paphlagonia, where our kinsman Cotta[26] Governs; and there, at all events, secure My nephews and your sons their lives, and with them Their just pretensions to the crown in case——

Sar. I perish—as is probable: well thought— Let them set forth with a sure escort.

Sal. That Is all provided, and the galley ready To drop down the Euphrates; but ere they Depart, will you not see——

Sar. My sons? It may 210 Unman my heart, and the poor boys will weep; And what can I reply to comfort them, Save with some hollow hopes, and ill-worn smiles? You know I cannot feign.

Sal. But you can feel! At least, I trust so: in a word, the Queen Requests to see you ere you part—for ever.

Sar. Unto what end? what purpose? I will grant Aught—all that she can ask—but such a meeting.

Sal. You know, or ought to know, enough of women, Since you have studied them so steadily[af], 220 That what they ask in aught that touches on The heart, is dearer to their feelings or Their fancy, than the whole external world. I think as you do of my sister's wish; But 'twas her wish—she is my sister—you Her husband—will you grant it?

Sar. 'Twill be useless: But let her come.

Sal. I go. [Exit SALEMENES.

Sar. We have lived asunder Too long to meet again—and now to meet! Have I not cares enow, and pangs enow, To bear alone, that we must mingle sorrows, 230 Who have ceased to mingle love?

Re-enter SALEMENES and ZARINA.

Sal. My sister! Courage: Shame not our blood with trembling, but remember From whence we sprung. The Queen is present, Sire.

Zar. I pray thee, brother, leave me.

Sal. Since you ask it. [Exit SALEMENES.

Zar. Alone with him! How many a year has passed[27], Though we are still so young, since we have met, Which I have worn in widowhood of heart. He loved me not: yet he seems little changed— Changed to me only—would the change were mutual! He speaks not—scarce regards me—not a word, 240 Nor look—yet he was soft of voice and aspect, Indifferent, not austere. My Lord!

Sar. Zarina!

Zar. No, not Zarina—do not say Zarina. That tone—That word—annihilate long years, And things which make them longer.

Sar. 'Tis too late To think of these past dreams. Let's not reproach— That is, reproach me not—for the last time——

Zar. And first, I ne'er reproached you.

Sar. 'Tis most true; And that reproof comes heavier on my heart Than——But our hearts are not in our own power. 250

Zar. Nor hands; but I gave both.

Sar. Your brother said It was your will to see me, ere you went From Nineveh with——(He hesitates.)

Zar. Our children: it is true. I wish to thank you that you have not divided My heart from all that's left it now to love— Those who are yours and mine, who look like you, And look upon me as you looked upon me Once——but they have not changed.

Sar. Nor ever will. I fain would have them dutiful.

Zar. I cherish Those infants, not alone from the blind love 260 Of a fond mother, but as a fond woman. They are now the only tie between us.

Sar. Deem not I have not done you justice: rather make them Resemble your own line than their own Sire. I trust them with you—to you: fit them for A throne, or, if that be denied——You have heard Of this night's tumults?

Zar. I had half forgotten, And could have welcomed any grief save yours, Which gave me to behold your face again.

Sar. The throne—I say it not in fear—but 'tis 270 In peril: they perhaps may never mount it: But let them not for this lose sight of it. I will dare all things to bequeath it them; But if I fail, then they must win it back Bravely—and, won, wear it wisely, not as I[ag] Have wasted down my royalty.

Zar. They ne'er Shall know from me of aught but what may honour Their father's memory.

Sar. Rather let them hear The truth from you than from a trampling world. If they be in adversity, they'll learn 280 Too soon the scorn of crowds for crownless Princes, And find that all their father's sins are theirs. My boys!—I could have borne it were I childless.

Zar. Oh! do not say so—do not poison all My peace left, by unwishing that thou wert A father. If thou conquerest, they shall reign, And honour him who saved the realm for them, So little cared for as his own; and if——

Sar. 'Tis lost, all Earth will cry out, "thank your father!" And they will swell the echo with a curse. 290

Zar. That they shall never do; but rather honour The name of him, who, dying like a king, In his last hours did more for his own memory Than many monarchs in a length of days, Which date the flight of time, but make no annals.

Sar. Our annals draw perchance unto their close; But at the least, whate'er the past, their end Shall be like their beginning—memorable.

Zar. Yet, be not rash—be careful of your life, Live but for those who love.

Sar. And who are they? 300 A slave, who loves from passion—I'll not say Ambition—she has seen thrones shake, and loves; A few friends who have revelled till we are As one, for they are nothing if I fall; A brother I have injured—children whom I have neglected, and a spouse——

Zar. Who loves.

Sar. And pardons?

Zar. I have never thought of this, And cannot pardon till I have condemned.

Sar. My wife!

Zar. Now blessings on thee for that word! I never thought to hear it more—from thee. 310

Sar. Oh! thou wilt hear it from my subjects. Yes— These slaves whom I have nurtured, pampered, fed, And swoln with peace, and gorged with plenty, till They reign themselves—all monarchs in their mansions— Now swarm forth in rebellion, and demand His death, who made their lives a jubilee; While the few upon whom I have no claim Are faithful! This is true, yet monstrous.

Zar. 'Tis Perhaps too natural; for benefits Turn poison in bad minds.

Sar. And good ones make 320 Good out of evil. Happier than the bee, Which hives not but from wholesome flowers.

Zar. Then reap The honey, nor inquire whence 'tis derived. Be satisfied—you are not all abandoned.

Sar. My life insures me that. How long, bethink you, Were not I yet a king, should I be mortal; That is, where mortals are, not where they must be?

Zar. I know not. But yet live for my—that is, Your children's sake!

Sar. My gentle, wronged Zarina! I am the very slave of Circumstance 330 And Impulse—borne away with every breath! Misplaced upon the throne—misplaced in life. I know not what I could have been, but feel I am not what I should be—let it end. But take this with thee: if I was not formed To prize a love like thine, a mind like thine, Nor dote even on thy beauty—as I've doted On lesser charms, for no cause save that such Devotion was a duty, and I hated All that looked like a chain for me or others 340 (This even Rebellion must avouch); yet hear These words, perhaps among my last—that none E'er valued more thy virtues, though he knew not To profit by them—as the miner lights Upon a vein of virgin ore, discovering That which avails him nothing: he hath found it, But 'tis not his—but some superior's, who Placed him to dig, but not divide the wealth Which sparkles at his feet; nor dare he lift Nor poise it, but must grovel on, upturning 350 The sullen earth.

Zar. Oh! if thou hast at length Discovered that my love is worth esteem, I ask no more—but let us hence together, And I—let me say we—shall yet be happy. Assyria is not all the earth—we'll find A world out of our own—and be more blessed Than I have ever been, or thou, with all An empire to indulge thee.

Enter SALEMENES.

Sal. I must part ye— The moments, which must not be lost, are passing.

Zar. Inhuman brother! wilt thou thus weigh out 360 Instants so high and blest?

Sal. Blest!

Zar. He hath been So gentle with me, that I cannot think Of quitting.

Sal. So—this feminine farewell Ends as such partings end, in no departure. I thought as much, and yielded against all My better bodings. But it must not be.

Zar. Not be?

Sal. Remain, and perish——

Zar. With my husband——

Sal. And children.

Zar. Alas!

Sal. Hear me, sister, like My sister:—all's prepared to make your safety Certain, and of the boys too, our last hopes; 370 'Tis not a single question of mere feeling, Though that were much—but 'tis a point of state: The rebels would do more to seize upon The offspring of their sovereign, and so crush——

Zar. Ah! do not name it.

Sal. Well, then, mark me: when They are safe beyond the Median's grasp, the rebels Have missed their chief aim—the extinction of The line of Nimrod. Though the present King Fall, his sons live—for victory and vengeance.

Zar. But could not I remain, alone?

Sal. What! leave 380 Your children, with two parents and yet orphans— In a strange land—so young, so distant?

Zar. No— My heart will break.

Sal. Now you know all—decide.

Sar. Zarina, he hath spoken well, and we Must yield awhile to this necessity. Remaining here, you may lose all; departing, You save the better part of what is left, To both of us, and to such loyal hearts As yet beat in these kingdoms.

Sal. The time presses.

Sar. Go, then. If e'er we meet again, perhaps 390 I may be worthier of you—and, if not, Remember that my faults, though not atoned for, Are ended. Yet, I dread thy nature will Grieve more above the blighted name and ashes Which once were mightiest in Assyria—than—— But I grow womanish again, and must not; I must learn sternness now. My sins have all Been of the softer order——hide thy tears— I do not bid thee not to shed them—'twere Easier to stop Euphrates at its source 400 Than one tear of a true and tender heart— But let me not behold them; they unman me Here when I had remanned myself. My brother, Lead her away.

Zar. Oh, God! I never shall Behold him more!

Sal. (striving to conduct her). Nay, sister, I must be obeyed.

Zar. I must remain—away! you shall not hold me. What, shall he die alone?—I live alone?

Sal. He shall not die alone; but lonely you Have lived for years.

Zar. That's false! I knew he lived, And lived upon his image—let me go! 410

Sal. (conducting her off the stage). Nay, then, I must use some fraternal force, Which you will pardon.

Zar. Never. Help me! Oh! Sardanapalus, wilt thou thus behold me Torn from thee?

Sal. Nay—then all is lost again, If that this moment is not gained.

Zar. My brain turns— My eyes fail—where is he? [She faints.

Sar. (advancing). No—set her down; She's dead—and you have slain her.

Sal. 'Tis the mere Faintness of o'erwrought passion: in the air She will recover. Pray, keep back.—[Aside.] I must Avail myself of this sole moment to 420 Bear her to where her children are embarked, I' the royal galley on the river. [SALEMENES bears her off.

Sar. (solus). This, too— And this too must I suffer—I, who never Inflicted purposely on human hearts A voluntary pang! But that is false— She loved me, and I loved her.—Fatal passion! Why dost thou not expire at once in hearts Which thou hast lighted up at once? Zarina![ah] I must pay dearly for the desolation Now brought upon thee. Had I never loved 430 But thee, I should have been an unopposed Monarch of honouring nations. To what gulfs A single deviation from the track Of human duties leads even those who claim The homage of mankind as their born due, And find it, till they forfeit it themselves!

Enter MYRRHA.

Sar. You here! Who called you?

Myr. No one—but I heard Far off a voice of wail and lamentation, And thought——

Sar. It forms no portion of your duties To enter here till sought for.

Myr. Though I might, 440 Perhaps, recall some softer words of yours (Although they too were chiding), which reproved me, Because I ever dreaded to intrude; Resisting my own wish and your injunction To heed no time nor presence, but approach you Uncalled for:—I retire.

Sar. Yet stay—being here. I pray you pardon me: events have soured me Till I wax peevish—heed it not: I shall Soon be myself again.

Myr. I wait with patience, What I shall see with pleasure.

Sar. Scarce a moment 450 Before your entrance in this hall, Zarina, Queen of Assyria, departed hence.

Myr. Ah!

Sar. Wherefore do you start?

Myr. Did I do so?

Sar. 'Twas well you entered by another portal, Else you had met. That pang at least is spared her!

Myr. I know to feel for her.

Sar. That is too much, And beyond nature—'tis nor mutual[ai] Nor possible. You cannot pity her, Nor she aught but——

Myr. Despise the favourite slave? Not more than I have ever scorned myself. 460

Sar. Scorned! what, to be the envy of your sex, And lord it o'er the heart of the World's lord?

Myr. Were you the lord of twice ten thousand worlds— As you are like to lose the one you swayed— I did abase myself as much in being Your paramour, as though you were a peasant— Nay, more, if that the peasant were a Greek.

Sar. You talk it well——

Myr. And truly.

Sar. In the hour Of man's adversity all things grow daring Against the falling; but as I am not 470 Quite fall'n, nor now disposed to bear reproaches, Perhaps because I merit them too often, Let us then part while peace is still between us.

Myr. Part!

Sar. Have not all past human beings parted, And must not all the present one day part?

Myr. Why?

Sar. For your safety, which I will have looked to, With a strong escort to your native land; And such gifts, as, if you had not been all A Queen, shall make your dowry worth a kingdom.

Myr. I pray you talk not thus.

Sar. The Queen is gone: 480 You need not shame to follow. I would fall Alone—I seek no partners but in pleasure.

Myr. And I no pleasure but in parting not. You shall not force me from you.

Sar. Think well of it— It soon may be too late.

Myr. So let it be; For then you cannot separate me from you.

Sar. And will not; but I thought you wished it.

Myr. I!

Sar. You spoke of your abasement.

Myr. And I feel it Deeply—more deeply than all things but love.

Sar. Then fly from it.

Myr. 'Twill not recall the past— 490 'Twill not restore my honour, nor my heart. No—here I stand or fall. If that you conquer, I live to joy in your great triumph: should Your lot be different, I'll not weep, but share it. You did not doubt me a few hours ago.

Sar. Your courage never—nor your love till now; And none could make me doubt it save yourself. Those words——

Myr. Were words. I pray you, let the proofs Be in the past acts you were pleased to praise This very night, and in my further bearing, 500 Beside, wherever you are borne by fate.

Sar. I am content: and, trusting in my cause, Think we may yet be victors and return To peace—the only victory I covet. To me war is no glory—conquest no Renown. To be forced thus to uphold my right Sits heavier on my heart than all the wrongs[aj] These men would bow me down with. Never, never Can I forget this night, even should I live To add it to the memory of others. 510 I thought to have made mine inoffensive rule An era of sweet peace 'midst bloody annals, A green spot amidst desert centuries, On which the Future would turn back and smile, And cultivate, or sigh when it could not Recall Sardanapalus' golden reign. I thought to have made my realm a paradise, And every moon an epoch of new pleasures. I took the rabble's shouts for love—the breath Of friends for truth—the lips of woman for 520 My only guerdon—so they are, my Myrrha: [He kisses her. Kiss me. Now let them take my realm and life! They shall have both, but never thee!

Myr. No, never! Man may despoil his brother man of all That's great or glittering—kingdoms fall, hosts yield, Friends fail—slaves fly—and all betray—and, more Than all, the most indebted—but a heart That loves without self-love! 'Tis here—now prove it.

Enter SALEMENES.

Sal. I sought you—How! she here again?

Sar. Return not Now to reproof: methinks your aspect speaks 530 Of higher matter than a woman's presence.

Sal. The only woman whom it much imports me At such a moment now is safe in absence— The Queen's embarked.

Sar. And well? say that much.

Sal. Yes. Her transient weakness has passed o'er; at least, It settled into tearless silence: her Pale face and glittering eye, after a glance Upon her sleeping children, were still fixed Upon the palace towers as the swift galley Stole down the hurrying stream beneath the starlight; 540 But she said nothing.

Sar. Would I felt no more Than she has said!

Sal. 'Tis now too late to feel. Your feelings cannot cancel a sole pang: To change them, my advices bring sure tidings That the rebellious Medes and Chaldees, marshalled By their two leaders, are already up In arms again; and, serrying their ranks, Prepare to attack: they have apparently Been joined by other Satraps.

Sar. What! more rebels? Let us be first, then.

Sal. That were hardly prudent 550 Now, though it was our first intention. If By noon to-morrow we are joined by those I've sent for by sure messengers, we shall be In strength enough to venture an attack, Aye, and pursuit too; but, till then, my voice Is to await the onset.

Sar. I detest That waiting; though it seems so safe to fight Behind high walls, and hurl down foes into Deep fosses, or behold them sprawl on spikes Strewed to receive them, still I like it not— 560 My soul seems lukewarm; but when I set on them, Though they were piled on mountains, I would have A pluck at them, or perish in hot blood!— Let me then charge.

Sal. You talk like a young soldier.

Sar. I am no soldier, but a man: speak not Of soldiership, I loathe the word, and those Who pride themselves upon it; but direct me Where I may pour upon them.

Sal. You must spare To expose your life too hastily; 'tis not Like mine or any other subject's breath: 570 The whole war turns upon it—with it; this Alone creates it, kindles, and may quench it— Prolong it—end it.

Sar. Then let us end both! 'Twere better thus, perhaps, than prolong either; I'm sick of one, perchance of both. [A trumpet sounds without.

Sal. Hark!

Sar. Let us Reply, not listen.

Sal. And your wound!

Sar. 'Tis bound— 'Tis healed—I had forgotten it. Away! A leech's lancet would have scratched me deeper;[ak] The slave that gave it might be well ashamed To have struck so weakly.

Sal. Now, may none this hour 580 Strike with a better aim!

Sar. Aye, if we conquer; But if not, they will only leave to me A task they might have spared their king. Upon them! [Trumpet sounds again.

Sal. I am with you.

Sar. Ho, my arms! again, my arms! [Exeunt.



ACT V.

SCENE I.-The same Hall in the Palace.

MYRRHA and BALEA.

Myr. (at a window)[28] The day at last has broken. What a night Hath ushered it! How beautiful in heaven! Though varied with a transitory storm, More beautiful in that variety! How hideous upon earth! where Peace and Hope, And Love and Revel, in an hour were trampled By human passions to a human chaos, Not yet resolved to separate elements— 'Tis warring still! And can the sun so rise, So bright, so rolling back the clouds into 10 Vapours more lovely than the unclouded sky, With golden pinnacles, and snowy mountains, And billows purpler than the Ocean's, making In heaven a glorious mockery of the earth, So like we almost deem it permanent; So fleeting, we can scarcely call it aught Beyond a vision, 'tis so transiently Scattered along the eternal vault: and yet It dwells upon the soul, and soothes the soul, And blends itself into the soul, until 20 Sunrise and sunset form the haunted epoch Of Sorrow and of Love; which they who mark not, Know not the realms where those twin genii[al] (Who chasten and who purify our hearts, So that we would not change their sweet rebukes For all the boisterous joys that ever shook The air with clamour) build the palaces Where their fond votaries repose and breathe Briefly;—but in that brief cool calm inhale Enough of heaven to enable them to bear 30 The rest of common, heavy, human hours, And dream them through in placid sufferance, Though seemingly employed like all the rest Of toiling breathers in allotted tasks[am] Of pain or pleasure, two names for one feeling, Which our internal, restless agony Would vary in the sound, although the sense Escapes our highest efforts to be happy.

Bal. You muse right calmly: and can you so watch The sunrise which may be our last?

Myr. It is 40 Therefore that I so watch it, and reproach Those eyes, which never may behold it more, For having looked upon it oft, too oft, Without the reverence and the rapture due To that which keeps all earth from being as fragile As I am in this form. Come, look upon it, The Chaldee's God, which, when I gaze upon, I grow almost a convert to your Baal.

Bal. As now he reigns in heaven, so once on earth He swayed.

Myr. He sways it now far more, then; never 50 Had earthly monarch half the power and glory Which centres in a single ray of his.

Bal. Surely he is a God!

Myr. So we Greeks deem too; And yet I sometimes think that gorgeous orb Must rather be the abode of Gods than one Of the immortal sovereigns. Now he breaks Through all the clouds, and fills my eyes with light That shuts the world out. I can look no more.

Bal. Hark! heard you not a sound?

Myr. No, 'twas mere fancy; They battle it beyond the wall, and not 60 As in late midnight conflict in the very Chambers: the palace has become a fortress Since that insidious hour; and here, within The very centre, girded by vast courts And regal halls of pyramid proportions, Which must be carried one by one before They penetrate to where they then arrived, We are as much shut in even from the sound Of peril as from glory.

Bal. But they reached Thus far before.

Myr. Yes, by surprise, and were 70 Beat back by valour: now at once we have Courage and vigilance to guard us.

Bal. May they Prosper!

Myr. That is the prayer of many, and The dread of more: it is an anxious hour; I strive to keep it from my thoughts. Alas! How vainly!

Bal. It is said the King's demeanour In the late action scarcely more appalled The rebels than astonished his true subjects.

Myr. 'Tis easy to astonish or appal The vulgar mass which moulds a horde of slaves; 80 But he did bravely.

Bal. Slew he not Beleses? I heard the soldiers say he struck him down.

Myr. The wretch was overthrown, but rescued to Triumph, perhaps, o'er one who vanquished him In fight, as he had spared him in his peril; And by that heedless pity risked a crown.

Bal. Hark!

Myr. You are right; some steps approach, but slowly.

Enter Soldiers, bearing in SALEMENES wounded, with a broken javelin in his side: they seat him upon one of the couches which furnish the Apartment.

Myr. Oh, Jove!

Bal. Then all is over.

Sal. That is false. Hew down the slave who says so, if a soldier.

Myr. Spare him—he's none: a mere court butterfly, 90 That flutter in the pageant of a monarch.

Sal. Let him live on, then.

Myr. So wilt thou, I trust.

Sal. I fain would live this hour out, and the event, But doubt it. Wherefore did ye bear me here?

Sol. By the King's order. When the javelin struck you, You fell and fainted: 'twas his strict command To bear you to this hall.

Sal. 'Twas not ill done: For seeming slain in that cold dizzy trance, The sight might shake our soldiers—but—'tis vain, I feel it ebbing!

Myr. Let me see the wound; 100 I am not quite skilless: in my native land 'Tis part of our instruction. War being constant, We are nerved to look on such things.[an]

Sol. Best extract The javelin.

Myr. Hold! no, no, it cannot be.

Sal. I am sped, then!

Myr. With the blood that fast must follow The extracted weapon, I do fear thy life.

Sal. And I not death. Where was the King when you Conveyed me from the spot where I was stricken?

Sol. Upon the same ground, and encouraging With voice and gesture the dispirited troops 110 Who had seen you fall, and faltered back.

Sal. Whom heard ye Named next to the command?

Sol. I did not hear.

Sal. Fly, then, and tell him, 'twas my last request That Zames take my post until the junction, So hoped for, yet delayed, of Ofratanes, Satrap of Susa. Leave me here: our troops Are not so numerous as to spare your absence.

Sol. But Prince——

Sal. Hence, I say! Here's a courtier and A woman, the best chamber company. As you would not permit me to expire 120 Upon the field, I'll have no idle soldiers About my sick couch. Hence! and do my bidding! [Exeunt the Soldiers.

Myr. Gallant and glorious Spirit! must the earth So soon resign thee?

Sal. Gentle Myrrha, 'tis The end I would have chosen, had I saved The monarch or the monarchy by this; As 'tis, I have not outlived them.

Myr. You wax paler.

Sal. Your hand; this broken weapon but prolongs My pangs, without sustaining life enough To make me useful: I would draw it forth 130 And my life with it, could I but hear how The fight goes.

Enter SARDANAPALUS and Soldiers.

Sar. My best brother!

Sal. And the battle Is lost?

Sar. (despondingly). You see me here.

Sal. I'd rather see you thus! [He draws out the weapon from the wound, and dies.

Sar. And thus I will be seen; unless the succour, The last frail reed of our beleagured hopes, Arrive with Ofratanes.

Myr. Did you not Receive a token from your dying brother, Appointing Zames chief?

Sar. I did.

Myr. Where's Zames?

Sar. Dead.

Myr. And Altada?

Sar. Dying.

Myr. Pania? Sfero?

Sar. Pania yet lives; but Sfero's fled or captive. 140 I am alone.

Myr. And is all lost?

Sar. Our walls, Though thinly manned, may still hold out against Their present force, or aught save treachery: But i' the field——

Myr. I thought 'twas the intent Of Salemenes not to risk a sally Till ye were strengthened by the expected succours.

Sar. I over-ruled him.

Myr. Well, the fault's a brave one.

Sar. But fatal. Oh, my brother! I would give These realms, of which thou wert the ornament, The sword and shield, the sole-redeeming honour, 150 To call back——But I will not weep for thee; Thou shall be mourned for as thou wouldst be mourned. It grieves me most that thou couldst quit this life Believing that I could survive what thou Hast died for—our long royalty of race. If I redeem it, I will give thee blood Of thousands, tears of millions, for atonement, (The tears of all the good are thine already). If not, we meet again soon,—if the spirit Within us lives beyond:—thou readest mine, 160 And dost me justice now. Let me once clasp That yet warm hand, and fold that throbless heart [Embraces the body. To this which beats so bitterly. Now, bear The body hence.

Sol. Where?

Sar. To my proper chamber. Place it beneath my canopy, as though The King lay there: when this is done, we will Speak further of the rites due to such ashes. [Exeunt Soldiers with the body of SALEMENES.

Enter PANIA.

Sar. Well, Pania! have you placed the guards, and issued The orders fixed on?

Pan. Sire, I have obeyed.

Sar. And do the soldiers keep their hearts up?

Pan. Sire? 170

Sar. I am answered! When a king asks twice, and has A question as an answer to his question, It is a portent. What! they are disheartened?

Pan. The death of Salemenes, and the shouts Of the exulting rebels on his fall, Have made them——

Sar. Rage—not droop—it should have been. We'll find the means to rouse them.

Pan. Such a loss Might sadden even a victory.

Sar. Alas! Who can so feel it as I feel? but yet, Though cooped within these walls, they are strong, and we 180 Have those without will break their way through hosts, To make their sovereign's dwelling what it was— A palace, not a prison—nor a fortress.

Enter an Officer, hastily.

Sar. Thy face seems ominous. Speak!

Offi. I dare not.

Sar. Dare not? While millions dare revolt with sword in hand! That's strange. I pray thee break that loyal silence Which loathes to shock its sovereign; we can hear Worse than thou hast to tell.

Pan. Proceed—thou hearest.

Offi. The wall which skirted near the river's brink Is thrown down by the sudden inundation 190 Of the Euphrates, which now rolling, swoln From the enormous mountains where it rises, By the late rains of that tempestuous region, O'erfloods its banks, and hath destroyed the bulwark.

Pan. That's a black augury! it has been said For ages, "That the City ne'er should yield To man, until the River grew its foe."

Sar. I can forgive the omen, not the ravage. How much is swept down of the wall?

Offi. About Some twenty stadia.[29]

Sar. And all this is left 200 Pervious to the assailants?

Offi. For the present The River's fury must impede the assault; But when he shrinks into his wonted channel, And may be crossed by the accustomed barks, The palace is their own.

Sar. That shall be never. Though men, and gods, and elements, and omens, Have risen up 'gainst one who ne'er provoked them, My father's house shall never be a cave For wolves to horde and howl in.

Pan. With your sanction, I will proceed to the spot, and take such measures 210 For the assurance of the vacant space As time and means permit.

Sar. About it straight, And bring me back, as speedily as full And fair investigation may permit, Report of the true state of this irruption Of waters. [Exeunt PANIA and the Officer.

Myr. Thus the very waves rise up Against you.

Sar. They are not my subjects, girl, And may be pardoned, since they can't be punished.

Myr. I joy to see this portent shakes you not.

Sar. I am past the fear of portents: they can tell me 220 Nothing I have not told myself since midnight: Despair anticipates such things.

Myr. Despair!

Sar. No; not despair precisely. When we know All that can come, and how to meet it, our Resolves, if firm, may merit a more noble Word than this is to give it utterance. But what are words to us? we have well nigh done With them and all things.

Myr. Save one deed—the last And greatest to all mortals; crowning act Of all that was, or is, or is to be— 230 The only thing common to all mankind, So different in their births, tongues, sexes, natures, Hues, features, climes, times, feelings, intellects,[ao] Without one point of union save in this— To which we tend, for which we're born, and thread The labyrinth of mystery, called life.

Sar. Our clue being well nigh wound out, let's be cheerful. They who have nothing more to fear may well Indulge a smile at that which once appalled; As children at discovered bugbears.

Re-enter PANIA.

Pan. 'Tis 240 As was reported: I have ordered there A double guard, withdrawing from the wall, Where it was strongest, the required addition To watch the breach occasioned by the waters.

Sar. You have done your duty faithfully, and as My worthy Pania! further ties between us Draw near a close—I pray you take this key: [Gives a key. It opens to a secret chamber, placed Behind the couch in my own chamber—(Now Pressed by a nobler weight than e'er it bore— 250 Though a long line of sovereigns have lain down Along its golden frame—as bearing for A time what late was Salemenes.)—Search The secret covert to which this will lead you; 'Tis full of treasure;[30] take it for yourself And your companions:[ap] there's enough to load ye, Though ye be many. Let the slaves be freed, too; And all the inmates of the palace, of Whatever sex, now quit it in an hour. Thence launch the regal barks, once formed for pleasure, 260 And now to serve for safety, and embark. The river's broad and swoln, and uncommanded, (More potent than a king) by these besiegers. Fly! and be happy!

Pan. Under your protection! So you accompany your faithful guard.

Sar. No, Pania! that must not be; get thee hence, And leave me to my fate.

Pan. 'Tis the first time I ever disobeyed: but now——

Sar. So all men Dare beard me now, and Insolence within Apes Treason from without. Question no further; 270 'Tis my command, my last command. Wilt thou Oppose it? thou!

Pan. But yet—not yet.

Sar. Well, then, Swear that you will obey when I shall give The signal.

Pan. With a heavy but true heart, I promise.

Sar. 'Tis enough. Now order here Faggots, pine-nuts, and withered leaves, and such Things as catch fire and blaze with one sole spark; Bring cedar, too, and precious drugs, and spices, And mighty planks, to nourish a tall pile; Bring frankincense and myrrh, too, for it is 280 For a great sacrifice I build the pyre! And heap them round yon throne.

Pan. My Lord!

Sar. I have said it, And you have sworn.

Pan. And could keep my faith Without a vow. [Exit PANIA.

Myr. What mean you?

Sar. You shall know Anon—what the whole earth shall ne'er forget.

PANIA, returning with a Herald.

Pan. My King, in going forth upon my duty, This herald has been brought before me, craving An audience.

Sar. Let him speak.

Her. The King Arbaces——

Sar. What, crowned already?—But, proceed.

Her. Beleses, The anointed High-priest——

Sar. Of what god or demon? 290 With new kings rise new altars. But, proceed; You are sent to prate your master's will, and not Reply to mine.

Her. And Satrap Ofratanes——

Sar. Why, he is ours.

Her. (showing a ring). Be sure that he is now In the camp of the conquerors; behold His signet ring.

Sar. 'Tis his. A worthy triad! Poor Salemenes! thou hast died in time To see one treachery the less: this man Was thy true friend and my most trusted subject. Proceed.

Her. They offer thee thy life, and freedom 300 Of choice to single out a residence In any of the further provinces, Guarded and watched, but not confined in person, Where thou shalt pass thy days in peace; but on Condition that the three young princes are Given up as hostages.

Sar. (ironically). The generous Victors!

Her. I wait the answer.

Sar. Answer, slave! How long Have slaves decided on the doom of kings?

Her. Since they were free.

Sar. Mouthpiece of mutiny! Thou at the least shalt learn the penalty 310 Of treason, though its proxy only. Pania! Let his head be thrown from our walls within The rebels' lines, his carcass down the river. Away with him! [PANIA and the Guards seizing him.

Pan. I never yet obeyed Your orders with more pleasure than the present. Hence with him, soldiers! do not soil this hall Of royalty with treasonable gore; Put him to rest without.

Her. A single word: My office, King, is sacred.

Sar. And what's mine? That thou shouldst come and dare to ask of me 320 To lay it down?

Her. I but obeyed my orders, At the same peril if refused, as now Incurred by my obedience.

Sar. So there are New monarchs of an hour's growth as despotic As sovereigns swathed in purple, and enthroned From birth to manhood!

Her. My life waits your breath. Yours (I speak humbly)—but it may be—yours May also be in danger scarce less imminent: Would it then suit the last hours of a line Such as is that of Nimrod, to destroy 330 A peaceful herald, unarmed, in his office; And violate not only all that man Holds sacred between man and man—but that More holy tie which links us with the Gods?

Sar. He's right.—Let him go free.—My life's last act Shall not be one of wrath. Here, fellow, take [Gives him a golden cup from a table near. This golden goblet, let it hold your wine, And think of me; or melt it into ingots, And think of nothing but their weight and value.

Her. I thank you doubly for my life, and this 340 Most gorgeous gift, which renders it more precious. But must I bear no answer?

Sar. Yes,—I ask An hour's truce to consider.

Her. But an hour's?

Sar. An hour's: if at the expiration of That time your masters hear no further from me, They are to deem that I reject their terms, And act befittingly.

Her. I shall not fail To be a faithful legate of your pleasure.

Sar. And hark! a word more.

Her. I shall not forget it, Whate'er it be.

Sar. Commend me to Beleses; 350 And tell him, ere a year expire, I summon Him hence to meet me.

Her. Where?

Sar. At Babylon. At least from thence he will depart to meet me.

Her. I shall obey you to the letter. [Exit Herald.

Sar. Pania!— Now, my good Pania!—quick—with what I ordered.

Pan. My Lord,—the soldiers are already charged. And see! they enter.

Soldiers enter, and form a Pile about the Throne, etc.[31]

Sar. Higher, my good soldiers, And thicker yet; and see that the foundation Be such as will not speedily exhaust Its own too subtle flame; nor yet be quenched 360 With aught officious aid would bring to quell it. Let the throne form the core of it; I would not Leave that, save fraught with fire unquenchable, To the new comers. Frame the whole as if 'Twere to enkindle the strong tower of our Inveterate enemies. Now it bears an aspect! How say you, Pania, will this pile suffice For a King's obsequies?

Pan. Aye, for a kingdom's. I understand you, now.

Sar. And blame me?

Pan. No— Let me but fire the pile, and share it with you. 370

Myr. That duty's mine.

Pan. A woman's!

Myr. 'Tis the soldier's Part to die for his sovereign, and why not The woman's with her lover?

Pan. 'Tis most strange!

Myr. But not so rare, my Pania, as thou think'st it. In the mean time, live thou.—Farewell! the pile Is ready.

Pan. I should shame to leave my sovereign With but a single female to partake His death.

Sar. Too many far have heralded Me to the dust already. Get thee hence; Enrich thee.

Pan. And live wretched!

Sar. Think upon 380 Thy vow:—'tis sacred and irrevocable.

Pan. Since it is so, farewell.

Sar. Search well my chamber, Feel no remorse at bearing off the gold; Remember, what you leave you leave the slaves Who slew me: and when you have borne away All safe off to your boats, blow one long blast Upon the trumpet as you quit the palace. The river's brink is too remote, its stream Too loud at present to permit the echo To reach distinctly from its banks. Then fly,— 390 And as you sail, turn back; but still keep on Your way along the Euphrates: if you reach The land of Paphlagonia, where the Queen Is safe with my three sons in Cotta's court, Say what you saw at parting, and request That she remember what I said at one Parting more mournful still.

Pan. That royal hand! Let me then once more press it to my lips; And these poor soldiers who throng round you, and Would fain die with you!

[The Soldiers and PANIA throng round him, kissing his hand and the hem of his robe.

Sar. My best! my last friends! 400 Let's not unman each other: part at once: All farewells should be sudden, when for ever, Else they make an eternity of moments, And clog the last sad sands of life with tears. Hence, and be happy: trust me, I am not Now to be pitied; or far more for what Is past than present;—for the future, 'tis In the hands of the deities, if such There be: I shall know soon. Farewell—Farewell. [Exeunt PANIA and Soldiers.

Myr. These men were honest: it is comfort still 410 That our last looks should be on loving faces.

Sar. And lovely ones, my beautiful!—but hear me! If at this moment,—for we now are on The brink,—thou feel'st an inward shrinking from This leap through flame into the future, say it: I shall not love thee less; nay, perhaps more, For yielding to thy nature: and there's time Yet for thee to escape hence.

Myr. Shall I light One of the torches which lie heaped beneath The ever-burning lamp that burns without, 420 Before Baal's shrine, in the adjoining hall?

Sar. Do so. Is that thy answer?

Myr. Thou shalt see. [Exit MYRRHA.

Sar. (solus). She's firm. My fathers! whom I will rejoin, It may be, purified by death from some Of the gross stains of too material being, I would not leave your ancient first abode To the defilement of usurping bondmen; If I have not kept your inheritance As ye bequeathed it, this bright part of it, Your treasure—your abode—your sacred relics 430 Of arms, and records—monuments, and spoils, In which they would have revelled, I bear with me To you in that absorbing element, Which most personifies the soul as leaving The least of matter unconsumed before Its fiery workings:—and the light of this Most royal of funereal pyres shall be[aq] Not a mere pillar formed of cloud and flame, A beacon in the horizon for a day, And then a mount of ashes—but a light[ar] 440 To lesson ages, rebel nations, and Voluptuous princes. Time shall quench full many A people's records, and a hero's acts; Sweep empire after empire, like this first Of empires, into nothing; but even then Shall spare this deed of mine, and hold it up A problem few dare imitate, and none Despise—but, it may be, avoid the life Which led to such a consummation.

MYRRHA returns with a lighted Torch in one Hand, and a Cup in the other.

Myr. Lo! I've lit the lamp which lights us to the stars. 450

Sar. And the cup?

Myr. 'Tis my country's custom to Make a libation to the Gods.

Sar. And mine To make libations amongst men. I've not Forgot the custom; and although alone, Will drain one draught in memory of many A joyous banquet past.

[SARDANAPALUS takes the cup, and after drinking and tinkling the reversed cup, as a drop falls, exclaims—

And this libation Is for the excellent Beleses.

Myr. Why Dwells thy mind rather upon that man's name Than on his mate's in villany?

Sar. The other Is a mere soldier, a mere tool, a kind 460 Of human sword in a friend's hand; the other Is master-mover of his warlike puppet; But I dismiss them from my mind.—Yet pause, My Myrrha! dost thou truly follow me, Freely and fearlessly?

Myr. And dost thou think A Greek girl dare not do for love, that which An Indian widow braves for custom?[as]

Sar. Then We but await the signal.

Myr. It is long In sounding.

Sar. Now, farewell; one last embrace.

Myr. Embrace, but not the last; there is one more. 470

Sar. True, the commingling fire will mix our ashes.

Myr. And pure as is my love to thee, shall they, Purged from the dross of earth, and earthly passion, Mix pale with thine. A single thought yet irks me.

Sar. Say it.

Myr. It is that no kind hand will gather The dust of both into one urn.

Sar. The better: Rather let them be borne abroad upon The winds of heaven, and scattered into air, Than be polluted more by human hands Of slaves and traitors. In this blazing palace, 480 And its enormous walls of reeking ruin, We leave a nobler monument than Egypt Hath piled in her brick mountains, o'er dead kings,[32] Or kine—for none know whether those proud piles Be for their monarch, or their ox-god Apis: So much for monuments that have forgotten Their very record!

Myr. Then farewell, thou earth! And loveliest spot of earth! farewell, Ionia! Be thou still free and beautiful, and far Aloof from desolation! My last prayer 490 Was for thee, my last thoughts, save one, were of thee!

Sar. And that?

Myr. Is yours. [The trumpet of PANIA sounds without.

Sar. Hark!

Myr. Now!

Sar. Adieu, Assyria! I loved thee well, my own, my fathers' land, And better as my country than my kingdom. I sated thee with peace and joys; and this Is my reward! and now I owe thee nothing, Not even a grave. [He mounts the pile. Now, Myrrha!

Myr. Art thou ready?

Sar. As the torch in thy grasp. [MYRRHA fires the pile.

Myr. 'Tis fired! I come.

[As MYRRHA springs forward to throw herself into the flames, the Curtain falls.[33]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] {4}[For a description of the fall of Nineveh, see Nahum ii. 1, sqq.—"He that dasheth in pieces is come up before thy face.... The shield of his mighty men is made red, the valiant men are in scarlet.... The chariots shall rage in the streets, they shall justle one against another in the broad ways: they shall seem like torches, they shall run like the lightnings. He shall recount his worthies: they shall stumble in their walk; they shall make haste to the wall thereof, and the defence shall be prepared. The gates of the rivers shall be opened, and the palace shall be dissolved," etc.]

[2] {7}["A manuscript dedication of Sardanapalus ... was forwarded to him, with an obliging inquiry whether it might be prefixed to the tragedy. The German, who, at his advanced age, was conscious of his own powers, and of their effects, could only gratefully and modestly consider this Dedication as the expression of an inexhaustible intellect, deeply feeling and creating its own object. He was by no means dissatisfied when, after long delay, Sardanapalus appeared without the Dedication; and was made happy by the possession of a facsimile of it, engraved on stone, which he considered a precious memorial."—Lebensverhaeltnik zu Byron, Werke, 1833, xlvi. 221-225. (See, too, for translation, Life, p. 593.)]

[3] {9}[Sardanapalus originally appeared in the same volume with The Two Foscari and Cain. The date of publication was December 19, 1821.]

[4] {10}["Sardanapalus, the Thirtieth from Ninus, and the last King of the Assyrians, exceeded all his Predecessors in Sloth and Luxury; for besides that he was seen of none out of his family, he led a most effeminate life: for wallowing in Pleasure and wanton Dalliances, he cloathed himself in Womens' attire, and spun fine Wool and Purple amongst the throngs of his Whores and Concubines. He painted likewise his Face, and decked his whole Body with other Allurements.... He imitated likewise a Woman's voice...; and proceeded to such a degree of voluptuousness that he composed verses for his Epitaph ... which were thus translated by a Grecian out of the Barbarian language—

[Greek: Tau~t' e)/cho o(/s' e)/phagon kai e)phy/brisa, kai met' e)/rotos Te/rpn' e)/pathon' ta de polla kai o)/lbia kei~na le/leiptai.]

"What once I gorged I now enjoy, And wanton Lusts me still employ; All other things by Mortals prized Are left as dirt by me despised."

—The Historical Library of Diodorus the Sicilian, made English by G. Booth, of the City of Chester, Esquire, 1700, p. 65.

"Another king of the sort was Sardanapalus.... And so, when Arbaces, who was one of the generals under him, a Mede by birth, endeavoured to manage by the assistance of one of the eunuchs, whose name was Sparamizus, to see Sardanapalus: and when ... he saw him painted with vermilion, and adorned like a woman, sitting among his concubines, carding purple wool, and sitting among them with his feet up, wearing a woman's robe, and with his beard carefully scraped, and his face smoothed with pumice stone (for he was whiter than milk, and pencilled under his eyes and eyebrows; and when he saw Arbaces he was putting a little more white under his eyes). Most historians, of whom Duris is one, relate that Arbaces, being indignant at his countrymen being ruled over by such a monarch as that, stabbed him and slew him. But Ctesias says that he went to war with him, and collected a great army, and then that Sardanapalus, being dethroned by Arbaces, died, burning himself alive in his palace, having heaped up a funeral pile four plethra in extent, on which he placed 150 golden couches."—The Deipnosophistae ... of Athenaeus, bk. xii. c. 38, translated by C. D. Yonge, 1854, iii. 847.]

[5] {13}[This prince surpassed all his predecessors in effeminacy, luxury, and cowardice. He never went out of his palace, but spent all his time among a company of women, dressed and painted like them, and employed like them at the distaff. He placed all his happiness and glory in the possession of immense treasures, in feasting and rioting, and indulging himself in all the most infamous and criminal pleasures. He ordered two verses to be put upon his tomb, signifying that he carried away with him all he had eaten, and all the pleasures he had enjoyed, but left everything else behind him,—an epitaph, says Aristotle, fit for a hog. Arbaces, governor of Media, having found means to get into the palace, and having with his own eyes seen Sardanapalus in the midst of his infamous seraglio, enraged at such a spectacle, and not able to endure that so many brave men should be subjected to a prince more soft and effeminate than the women themselves, immediately formed a conspiracy against him. Beleses, governor of Babylon, and several others, entered into it. On the first rumour of this revolt the king hid himself in the inmost part of his palace. Being afterwards obliged to take the field with some forces which he had assembled, he at first gained three successive victories over the enemy, but was afterwards overcome, and pursued to the gates of Nineveh; wherein he shut himself, in hopes the rebels would never be able to take a city so well fortified, and stored with provisions for a considerable time. The siege proved indeed of very great length. It had been declared by an ancient oracle that Nineveh could never be taken unless the river became an enemy to the city. These words buoyed up Sardanapalus, because he looked upon the thing as impossible. But when he saw that the Tigris, by a violent inundation, had thrown down twenty stadia (two miles and a half) of the city wall, and by that means opened a passage to the enemy, he understood the meaning of the oracle, and thought himself lost. He resolved, however, to die in such a manner as, according to his opinion, should cover the infamy of his scandalous and effeminate life. He ordered a pile of wood to be made in his palace, and, setting fire to it, burnt himself, his eunuchs, his women, and his treasures.—Diod. Sic., Bibl. Hist., lib. ii. pag. 78, sqq., ed. 1604, p. 109.]

[a] {14} He sweats in dreary, dulled effeminacy.—[MS. M. erased.]

[b] {15} And see the gewgaws of the glittering girls.—[MS. M. erased.]

[6] ["The words Queen (vide infra, line 83) and pavilion occur, but it is not an allusion to his Britannic Majesty, as you may tremulously (for the admiralty custom) imagine. This you will one day see (if I finish it), as I have made Sardanapalus brave (though voluptuous, as history represents him), and also as amiable as my poor powers could render him. So that it could neither be truth nor satire on any living monarch."—Letter to Murray, May 25, 1821, Letters, 1901, v. 299.

Byron pretended, or, perhaps, really thought, that such a phrase as the "Queen's wrongs" would be supposed to contain an allusion to the trial of Queen Caroline (August-November, 1820), and to the exclusion of her name from the State prayers, etc. Unquestionably if the play had been put on the stage at this time, the pit and gallery would have applauded the sentiment to the echo. There was, too, but one "pavilion" in 1821, and that was not on the banks of the Euphrates, but at Brighton. Qui s'excuse s'accuse. Byron was not above "paltering" with his readers "in a double sense."]

[7] {16} "The Ionian name had been still more comprehensive; having included the Achaians and the B[oe]otians, who, together with those to whom it was afterwards confined, would make nearly the whole of the Greek nation; and among the Orientals it was always the general name for the Greeks."—MITFORD'S Greece, 1818. i. 199.

[c] {17} To Byblis——.—[MS. M.]

[d] I know each glance of those deep Greek-souled eyes.—[MS. M. erased.]

[e] {19}

——I have a mind To curse the restless slaves with their own wishes.—[MS. M. erased.]

[8] {21}[For the occupation of India by Dionysus, see Diod. Siculi Bib. Hist., lib. ii, pag. 87, c.]

[f] He did, and thence was deemed a God in story.—[MS. M. erased.]

[9] [Strabo (Rerum Geog., lib. iii. 1807, p. 235) throws some doubt on the existence of these columns, which he suggests were islands or "pillar" rocks. According to Plutarch (Langhorne's Translation, 1838, p. 490), Alexander built great altars on the banks of the Ganges, on which the native kings were wont to "offer sacrifices in the Grecian manner." Hence, perhaps, the legend of the columns erected by Dionysus.]

[10] "For this expedition he took only a small chosen body of the phalanx, but all his light troops. In the first day's march he reached Anchialus, a town said to have been founded by the king of Assyria, Sardanapalus. The fortifications, in their magnitude and extent, still in Arrian's time, bore the character of greatness, which the Assyrians appear singularly to have affected in works of the kind. A monument representing Sardanapalus was found there, warranted by an inscription in Assyrian characters, of course in the old Assyrian language, which the Greeks, whether well or ill, interpreted thus: 'Sardanapalus, son of Anacyndaraxes, in one day founded Anchialus and Tarsus. Eat, drink, play; all other human joys are not worth a fillip.' Supposing this version nearly exact (for Arrian says it was not quite so), whether the purpose has not been to invite to civil order a people disposed to turbulence, rather than to recommend immoderate luxury, may perhaps reasonably be questioned. What, indeed, could be the object of a king of Assyria in founding such towns in a country so distant from his capital, and so divided from it by an immense extent of sandy deserts and lofty mountains, and, still more, how the inhabitants could be at once in circumstances to abandon themselves to the intemperate joys which their prince has been supposed to have recommended, is not obvious. But it may deserve observation that, in that line of coast, the southern of Lesser Asia, ruins of cities, evidently of an age after Alexander, yet barely named in history, at this day astonish the adventurous traveller by their magnificence and elegance amid the desolation which, under a singularly barbarian government, has for so many centuries been daily spreading in the finest countries of the globe. Whether more from soil and climate, or from opportunities for commerce, extraordinary means must have been found for communities to flourish there; whence it may seem that the measures of Sardanapalus were directed by juster views than have been commonly ascribed to him. But that monarch having been the last of a dynasty ended by a revolution, obloquy on his memory would follow of course from the policy of his successors and their partisans. The inconsistency of traditions concerning Sardanapalus is striking in Diodorus's account of him."—MITFORD's Greece, 1820, ix. 311-313, and note 1.

[The story of the sepulchral monument with its cynical inscription rests on the authority of Aristobulus, who served under Alexander, and wrote his history. The passage is quoted by Strabo (lib. xiv. ed. 1808, p. 958), and as follows by Athenaeus (lib. xii. cap. 40) in the Deipnosophistae: "And Aristobulus says, 'In Anchiale, which was built by Sardanapalus, did Alexander, when he was on his expedition against the Persians, pitch his camp. And at no great distance was the monument of Sardanapalus, on which there is a marble figure putting together the fingers of its right hand, as if it were giving a fillip. And there was on it the following inscription in Assyrian characters:—

Sardanapalus The king, and son of Anacyndaraxes, In one day built Anchiale and Tarsus: Eat, drink, and love, the rest's not worth e'en this.'

By 'this' meaning the fillip he was giving with his fingers."

"We may conjecture," says Canon Rawlinson, "that the monument was in reality a stele containing the king [Sennacherib] in an arched frame, with the right hand raised above the left, which is the ordinary attitude, and an inscription commemorating the occasion of its erection" [the conquest of Cilicia and settlement of Tarsus].—The Five Great Monarchies, etc., 1871, ii. 216.]

[11] {25}[Compare "Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else to fat us; and we fat ourselves for maggots."—Hamlet. act iv. sc. 3, lines 21-23.]

[12] {27}[Compare—"The fickle reek of popular breath." Childe Harold, Canto IV. stanza clxxi. line 2.]

[13] Compare—"I have not flattered its rank breath." Childe Harold, Canto III. stanza cxiii. line 2.

Compare, too, Shakespeare, Coriolanus, act iii. sc. i, lines 66, 67.

[14] {28}["Rode. Winter's wind somewhat more unkind than ingratitude itself, though Shakespeare says otherwise. At least, I am so much more accustomed to meet with ingratitude than the north wind, that I thought the latter the sharper of the two. I had met with both in the course of the twenty-four hours, so could judge."—Extracts from a Diary, January 19, 1821, Letters, 1901, v. 177.]

[g] {31} ——and even dared Profane our presence with his savage jeers.—[MS. M.]

[h] {34} Who loved no gems so well as those of nature.—[MS. M.]

[i] Wishing eternity to dust——.—[MS. M.]

[j] {38} Each twinkle unto which Time trembles, and Nations grow nothing——.—[MS. M. erased.]

[15] {40}[Compare "these swoln silkworms," Marino Faliero, act ii. sc. 2. line 115, Poetical Works, 1901, iv. 386, note 4.]

[k] {43} But found the Monarch claimed his privacy.—[MS. M. erased.]

[l] ——not else It quits this living hand.—[MS. M. erased.]

[m] I know them beautiful, and see them brilliant.—[MS. M. erased.]

[n] {49} ——by the foolish confidence.—[MS. M. erased.]

[16] [The first edition reads "grantor." In the MS. the word may be either "granter" or "grantor." "Grantor" is a technical term, in law, for one "who grants a conveyance."]

[17] {50}[According to AElian, Var. Hist., vii. i, Semiramis, having obtained from her husband permission to rule over Asia for five days, thrust him into a dungeon, and obtained the sovereign power for herself (ed. Paris, 1858, p. 355).]

[o] {52} Aye—that's earnest!—[MS. M. erased.]

[p] {54} Nay, if thou wilt not——.—[MS. M. erased.]

[q] {56} Nor silent Baal, our imaged deity, Although his marble face looks frowningly, As the dusk shadows of the evening cast His trow in coming dimness and at times.—[MS. M. erased.]

[r] / a wide-spread In distant flashes —[MS. M erased] the approaching /

[s] As from the Gods to augur.—[MS. M. erased.]

[t] {58} The weaker merit of our Asian women.—[MS. M. erased.]

[u] Rather than prove that love to you in griefs.—[MS. M. erased.]

[v] {60} Worshippers in the air.—[MS. M. erased.]

[18] {61}[Perhaps Grillparzer's Sappho was responsible for the anachronism. See "Extracts from a Diary," January 12, 1821, Letters, 1901, V. 171, note 1.]

[19] {63}["In the third act, when Sardanapalus calls for a mirror to look at himself in his armour, recollect to quote the Latin passage from Juvenal upon Otho (a similar character, who did the same thing: Gifford will help you to it). The trait is, perhaps, too familiar, but it is historical (of Otho, at least), and natural in an effeminate character."—Letter to Murray, May 30, 1821, Letters, 1901, v. 301. The quotation was not made in the first edition, 1821, nor in any subsequent issue, till 1832. It is from Juvenal, Sat. ii. lines 199-203—

"Ille tenet speculum, pathici gestamen Othonis, Actoris Aurunci spolium, quo se ille videbat Armatum, cum jam tolli vexilla juberet. Res memoranda novis annalibus, atque recenti Historia, speculum civilis sarcina belli."

"This grasps a mirror—pathic Otho's boast (Auruncan Actor's spoil), where, while his host, With shouts, the signal of the fight required, He viewed his mailed form; viewed, and admired! Lo, a new subject for the historic page, A MIRROR, midst the arms of civil rage!"