Chapter IV: Act I: SCENE I.--A Hall in the Palace

_Salemenes_ (_solus_).
He hath wronged his queen, but still he is her lord;
He hath wronged my sister--still he is my brother;
He hath wronged his people--still he is their sovereign--
And I must be his friend as well as subject:
He must not perish thus. I will not see
The blood of Nimrod and Semiramis
Sink in the earth, and thirteen hundred years
Of Empire ending like a shepherd's tale;
He must be roused. In his effeminate heart
There is a careless courage which Corruption 10
Has not all quenched, and latent energies,
Repressed by circumstance, but not destroyed--
Steeped, but not drowned, in deep voluptuousness.
If born a peasant, he had been a man
To have reached an empire: to an empire born,
He will bequeath none; nothing but a name,
Which his sons will not prize in heritage:--
Yet--not all lost--even yet--he may redeem
His sloth and shame, by only being that
Which he should be, as easily as the thing 20
He should not be and is. Were it less toil
To sway his nations than consume his life?
To head an army than to rule a harem?
He sweats in palling pleasures, dulls his soul,[a]
And saps his goodly strength, in toils which yield not
Health like the chase, nor glory like the war--
He must be roused. Alas! there is no sound
[_Sound of soft music heard from within_.
To rouse him short of thunder. Hark! the lute--
The lyre--the timbrel; the lascivious tinklings
Of lulling instruments, the softening voices 30
Of women, and of beings less than women,
Must chime in to the echo of his revel,
While the great King of all we know of earth
Lolls crowned with roses, and his diadem
Lies negligently by to be caught up
By the first manly hand which dares to snatch it.
Lo, where they come! already I perceive
The reeking odours of the perfumed trains,
And see the bright gems of the glittering girls,[b]
At once his Chorus and his Council, flash 40
Along the gallery, and amidst the damsels,
As femininely garbed, and scarce less female,
The grandson of Semiramis, the Man-Queen.--
He comes! Shall I await him? yes, and front him,
And tell him what all good men tell each other,
Speaking of him and his. They come, the slaves
Led by the monarch subject to his slaves.

SCENE II.

_Enter_ SARDANAPALUS _effeminately dressed, his Head
crowned with Flowers, and his Robe negligently flowing,
attended by a Train of Women and young Slaves_.

_Sar._ (_speaking to some of his attendants_).
Let the pavilion[6] over the Euphrates
Be garlanded, and lit, and furnished forth
For an especial banquet; at the hour
Of midnight we will sup there: see nought wanting,
And bid the galley be prepared. There is
A cooling breeze which crisps the broad clear river:
We will embark anon. Fair Nymphs, who deign
To share the soft hours of Sardanapalus,
We'll meet again in that the sweetest hour,
When we shall gather like the stars above us, 10
And you will form a heaven as bright as theirs;
Till then, let each be mistress of her time,
And thou, my own Ionian Myrrha,[7] choose;
Wilt thou along with them or me?

_Myr._ My Lord--

_Sar._ My Lord!--my Life! why answerest thou so coldly?
It is the curse of kings to be so answered.
Rule thy own hours, thou rulest mine--say, wouldst thou
Accompany our guests, or charm away
The moments from me?

_Myr._ The King's choice is mine.

_Sar._ I pray thee say not so: my chiefest joy 20
Is to contribute to thine every wish.
I do not dare to breathe my own desire,
Lest it should clash with thine; for thou art still
Too prompt to sacrifice thy thoughts for others.

_Myr._ I would remain: I have no happiness
Save in beholding thine; yet--

_Sar._ Yet! what YET?
Thy own sweet will shall be the only barrier
Which ever rises betwixt thee and me.

_Myr._ I think the present is the wonted hour
Of council; it were better I retire. 30

_Sal._ (_comes forward and says_)
The Ionian slave says well: let her retire.

_Sar._ Who answers? How now, brother?

_Sal._ The _Queen's_ brother,
And your most faithful vassal, royal Lord.

_Sar._ (_addressing his train_).
As I have said, let all dispose their hours
Till midnight, when again we pray your presence.
[_The court retiring_.
(_To_ MYRRHA,[c] _who is going_.)
Myrrha! I thought _thou_ wouldst remain.

_Myr._ Great King,
Thou didst not say so.

_Sar._ But _thou_ looked'st it:
I know each glance of those Ionic eyes,[d]
Which said thou wouldst not leave me.

_Myr._ Sire! your brother----

_Sal._ His _Consort's_ brother, minion of Ionia! 40
How darest _thou_ name _me_ and not blush?

_Sar._ Not blush!
Thou hast no more eyes than heart to make her crimson
Like to the dying day on Caucasus,
Where sunset tints the snow with rosy shadows,
And then reproach her with thine own cold blindness,
Which will not see it. What! in tears, my Myrrha?

_Sal._ Let them flow on; she weeps for more than one,
And is herself the cause of bitterer tears.

_Sar._ Cursed be he who caused those tears to flow!

_Sal._ Curse not thyself--millions do that already. 50

_Sar._ Thou dost forget thee: make me not remember
I am a monarch.

_Sal._ Would thou couldst!

_Myr._ My sovereign,
I pray, and thou, too, Prince, permit my absence.

_Sar._ Since it must be so, and this churl has checked
Thy gentle spirit, go; but recollect
That we must forthwith meet: I had rather lose
An empire than thy presence. [_Exit_ MYRRHA.

_Sal._ It may be,
Thou wilt lose both--and both for ever!

_Sar._ Brother!
I can at least command myself, who listen
To language such as this: yet urge me not 60
Beyond my easy nature.

_Sal._ 'Tis beyond
That easy--far too easy--idle nature,
Which I would urge thee. O that I could rouse thee!
Though 'twere against myself.

_Sar._ By the god Baal!
The man would make me tyrant.

_Sal._ So thou art.
Think'st thou there is no tyranny but that
Of blood and chains? The despotism of vice,
The weakness and the wickedness of luxury,
The negligence, the apathy, the evils
Of sensual sloth--produce ten thousand tyrants, 70
Whose delegated cruelty surpasses
The worst acts of one energetic master,
However harsh and hard in his own bearing.
The false and fond examples of thy lusts
Corrupt no less than they oppress, and sap
In the same moment all thy pageant power
And those who should sustain it; so that whether
A foreign foe invade, or civil broil
Distract within, both will alike prove fatal:
The first thy subjects have no heart to conquer; 80
The last they rather would assist than vanquish.

_Sar._ Why, what makes thee the mouth-piece of the people?

_Sal._ Forgiveness of the Queen, my sister wrongs;
A natural love unto my infant nephews;
Faith to the King, a faith he may need shortly,
In more than words; respect for Nimrod's line;
Also, another thing thou knowest not.

_Sar._ What's that?

_Sal._ To thee an unknown word.

_Sar._ Yet speak it;
I love to learn.

_Sal._ Virtue.

_Sar._ Not know the word!
Never was word yet rung so in my ears-- 90
Worse than the rabble's shout, or splitting trumpet:
I've heard thy sister talk of nothing else.

_Sal._ To change the irksome theme, then, hear of vice.

_Sar._ From whom?

_Sal._ Even from the winds, if thou couldst listen
Unto the echoes of the Nation's voice.

_Sar._ Come, I'm indulgent, as thou knowest, patient,
As thou hast often proved--speak out, what moves thee?

_Sal._ Thy peril.

_Sar._ Say on.

_Sal._ Thus, then: all the nations,
For they are many, whom thy father left
In heritage, are loud in wrath against thee. 100

_Sar._ 'Gainst _me!!_ What would the slaves?

_Sal._ A king.

_Sar._ And what
Am I then?

_Sal._ In their eyes a nothing; but
In mine a man who might be something still.

_Sar._ The railing drunkards! why, what would they have?
Have they not peace and plenty?

_Sal._ Of the first
More than is glorious: of the last, far less
Than the King recks of.

_Sar._ Whose then is the crime,
But the false satraps, who provide no better?

_Sal._ And somewhat in the Monarch who ne'er looks
Beyond his palace walls, or if he stirs 110
Beyond them, 'tis but to some mountain palace,
Till summer heats wear down. O glorious Baal!
Who built up this vast empire, and wert made
A God, or at the least shinest like a God
Through the long centuries of thy renown,
This, thy presumed descendant, ne'er beheld
As king the kingdoms thou didst leave as hero,
Won with thy blood, and toil, and time, and peril!
For what? to furnish imposts for a revel,
Or multiplied extortions for a minion. 120

_Sar._ I understand thee--thou wouldst have me go
Forth as a conqueror. By all the stars
Which the Chaldeans read--the restless slaves[e]
Deserve that I should curse them with their wishes,
And lead them forth to glory.

_Sal._ Wherefore not?
Semiramis--a woman only--led
These our Assyrians to the solar shores
Of Ganges.

_Sar._ Tis most true. And _how_ returned?

_Sal._ Why, like a _man_--a hero; baffled, but
Not vanquished. With but twenty guards, she made 130
Good her retreat to Bactria.

_Sar._ And how many
Left she behind in India to the vultures?

_Sal._ Our annals say not.

_Sar._ Then I will say for them--
That she had better woven within her palace
Some twenty garments, than with twenty guards
Have fled to Bactria, leaving to the ravens,
And wolves, and men--the fiercer of the three,
Her myriads of fond subjects. Is _this_ Glory?
Then let me live in ignominy ever.

_Sal._ All warlike spirits have not the same fate. 140
Semiramis, the glorious parent of
A hundred kings, although she failed in India,
Brought Persia--Media--Bactria--to the realm
Which she once swayed--and thou _mightst_ sway.

_Sar._ _I sway_ them--
She but subdued them.

_Sal._ It may be ere long
That they will need her sword more than your sceptre.

_Sar._ There was a certain Bacchus, was there not?
I've heard my Greek girls speak of such--they say
He was a God, that is, a Grecian god,
An idol foreign to Assyria's worship, 150
Who conquered this same golden realm of Ind
Thou prat'st of, where Semiramis was vanquished.

_Sal._ I have heard of such a man; and thou perceiv'st
That he is deemed a God for what he did.

_Sar._ And in his godship I will honour him--
Not much as man. What, ho! my cupbearer!

_Sal._ What means the King?

_Sar._ To worship your new God
And ancient conqueror. Some wine, I say.

_Enter Cupbearer_.

_Sar._ (_addressing the Cupbearer_).
Bring me the golden goblet thick with gems,
Which bears the name of Nimrod's chalice. Hence, 160
Fill full, and bear it quickly. [_Exit Cupbearer_.

_Sal._ Is this moment
A fitting one for the resumption of
Thy yet unslept-off revels?

_Re-enter Cupbearer, with wine_.

_Sar._ (_taking the cup from him_). Noble kinsman,
If these barbarian Greeks of the far shores
And skirts of these our realms lie not, this Bacchus
Conquered the whole of India,[8] did he not?

_Sal._ He did, and thence was deemed a Deity.[f]

_Sar._ Not so:--of all his conquests a few columns.[9]
Which may be his, and might be mine, if I
Thought them worth purchase and conveyance, are 170
The landmarks of the seas of gore he shed,
The realms he wasted, and the hearts he broke.
But here--here in this goblet is his title
To immortality--the immortal grape
From which he first expressed the soul, and gave
To gladden that of man, as some atonement
For the victorious mischiefs he had done.
Had it not been for this, he would have been
A mortal still in name as in his grave;
And, like my ancestor Semiramis, 180
A sort of semi-glorious human monster.
Here's that which deified him--let it now
Humanise thee; my surly, chiding brother,
Pledge me to the Greek God!

_Sal._ For all thy realms
I would not so blaspheme our country's creed.

_Sar._ That is to say, thou thinkest him a hero,
That he shed blood by oceans; and no God,
Because he turned a fruit to an enchantment,
Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires
The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, 190
And Fear her danger; opens a new world
When this, the present, palls. Well, then _I_ pledge thee
And _him_ as a true man, who did his utmost
In good or evil to surprise mankind. [_Drinks_.

_Sal._ Wilt thou resume a revel at this hour?

_Sar._ And if I did, 'twere better than a trophy,
Being bought without a tear. But that is not
My present purpose: since thou wilt not pledge me,
Continue what thou pleasest.
(_To the Cupbearer_.) Boy, retire. [_Exit Cupbearer_.

_Sal._ I would but have recalled thee from thy dream; 200
Better by me awakened than rebellion.

_Sar._ Who should rebel? or why? what cause? pretext?
I am the lawful King, descended from
A race of Kings who knew no predecessors.
What have I done to thee, or to the people,
That thou shouldst rail, or they rise up against me?

_Sal._ Of what thou hast done to me, I speak not.

_Sar._ But
Thou think'st that I have wronged the Queen: is't not so?

_Sal._ _Think!_ Thou hast wronged her!

_Sar._ Patience, Prince, and hear me.
She has all power and splendour of her station, 210
Respect, the tutelage of Assyria's heirs,
The homage and the appanage of sovereignty.
I married her as monarchs wed--for state,
And loved her as most husbands love their wives.
If she or thou supposedst I could link me
Like a Chaldean peasant to his mate,
Ye knew nor me--nor monarchs--nor mankind.

_Sal._ I pray thee, change the theme: my blood disdains
Complaint, and Salemenes' sister seeks not
Reluctant love even from Assyria's lord! 220
Nor would she deign to accept divided passion
With foreign strumpets and Ionian slaves.
The Queen is silent.

_Sar._ And why not her brother?

_Sal._ I only echo thee the voice of empires,
Which he who long neglects not long will govern.

_Sar._ The ungrateful and ungracious slaves! they murmur
Because I have not shed their blood, nor led them
To dry into the desert's dust by myriads,
Or whiten with their bones the banks of Ganges;
Nor decimated them with savage laws, 230
Nor sweated them to build up Pyramids,
Or Babylonian walls.

_Sal._ Yet these are trophies
More worthy of a people and their prince
Than songs, and lutes, and feasts, and concubines,
And lavished treasures, and contemned virtues.

_Sar._ Or for my trophies I have founded cities:
There's Tarsus and Anchialus, both built
In one day--what could that blood-loving beldame,
My martial grandam, chaste Semiramis,
Do more, except destroy them?

_Sal._ 'Tis most true; 240
I own thy merit in those founded cities,
Built for a whim, recorded with a verse
Which shames both them and thee to coming ages.

_Sar._ Shame me! By Baal, the cities, though well built,
Are not more goodly than the verse! Say what
Thou wilt 'gainst me, my mode of life or rule,
But nothing 'gainst the truth of that brief record.
Why, those few lines contain the history
Of all things human: hear--"Sardanapalus,
The king, and son of Anacyndaraxes, 250
In one day built Anchialus and Tarsus.
Eat, drink, and love; the rest's not worth a fillip."[10]

_Sal._ A worthy moral, and a wise inscription,
For a king to put up before his subjects!

_Sar._ Oh, thou wouldst have me doubtless set up edicts--
"Obey the king--contribute to his treasure--
Recruit his phalanx--spill your blood at bidding--
Fall down and worship, or get up and toil."
Or thus--"Sardanapalus on this spot
Slew fifty thousand of his enemies. 260
These are their sepulchres, and this his trophy."
I leave such things to conquerors; enough
For me, if I can make my subjects feel
The weight of human misery less, and glide
Ungroaning to the tomb: I take no license
Which I deny to them. We all are men.

_Sal._ Thy Sires have been revered as Gods--

_Sar._ In dust
And death, where they are neither Gods nor men.
Talk not of such to me! the worms are Gods;[11]
At least they banqueted upon your Gods, 270
And died for lack of farther nutriment.
Those Gods were merely men; look to their issue--
I feel a thousand mortal things about me,
But nothing godlike,--unless it may be
The thing which you condemn, a disposition
To love and to be merciful, to pardon
The follies of my species, and (that's human)
To be indulgent to my own.

_Sal._ Alas!
The doom of Nineveh is sealed.--Woe--woe
To the unrivalled city!

_Sar._ What dost dread? 280

_Sal._ Thou art guarded by thy foes: in a few hours
The tempest may break out which overwhelms thee,
And thine and mine; and in another day
What _is_ shall be the past of Belus' race.

_Sar._ What must we dread?

_Sal._ Ambitious treachery,
Which has environed thee with snares; but yet
There is resource: empower me with thy signet
To quell the machinations, and I lay
The heads of thy chief foes before thy feet.

_Sar._ The heads--how many?

_Sal._ Must I stay to number 290
When even thine own's in peril? Let me go;
Give me thy signet--trust me with the rest.

_Sar._ I will trust no man with unlimited lives.
When we take those from others, we nor know
What we have taken, nor the thing we give.

_Sal._ Wouldst thou not take their lives who seek for thine?

_Sar._ That's a hard question--But I answer, Yes.
Cannot the thing be done without? Who are they
Whom thou suspectest?--Let them be arrested.

_Sal._ I would thou wouldst not ask me; the next moment 300
Will send my answer through thy babbling troop
Of paramours, and thence fly o'er the palace,
Even to the city, and so baffle all.--
Trust me.

_Sar._ Thou knowest I have done so ever;
Take thou the signet. [_Gives the signet_.

_Sal._ I have one more request.

_Sar._ Name it.

_Sal._ That thou this night forbear the banquet
In the pavilion over the Euphrates.

_Sar._ Forbear the banquet! Not for all the plotters
That ever shook a kingdom! Let them come,
And do their worst: I shall not blench for them; 310
Nor rise the sooner; nor forbear the goblet;
Nor crown me with a single rose the less;
Nor lose one joyous hour.--I fear them not.

_Sal._ But thou wouldst arm thee, wouldst thou not, if needful?

_Sar._ Perhaps. I have the goodliest armour, and
A sword of such a temper, and a bow,
And javelin, which might furnish Nimrod forth:
A little heavy, but yet not unwieldy.
And now I think on't, 'tis long since I've used them,
Even in the chase. Hast ever seen them, brother? 320

_Sal._ Is this a time for such fantastic trifling?--
If need be, wilt thou wear them?

_Sar._ Will I not?
Oh! if it must be so, and these rash slaves
Will not be ruled with less, I'll use the sword
Till they shall wish it turned into a distaff.

_Sal._ They say thy Sceptre's turned to that already.

_Sar._ That's false! but let them say so: the old Greeks,
Of whom our captives often sing, related
The same of their chief hero, Hercules,
Because he loved a Lydian queen: thou seest 330
The populace of all the nations seize
Each calumny they can to sink their sovereigns.

_Sal._ They did not speak thus of thy fathers.

_Sar._ No;
They dared not. They were kept to toil and combat;
And never changed their chains but for their armour:
Now they have peace and pastime, and the license
To revel and to rail; it irks me not.
I would not give the smile of one fair girl
For all the popular breath[12] that e'er divided
A name from nothing. What are the rank tongues[13] 340
Of this vile herd, grown insolent with feeding,
That I should prize their noisy praise, or dread
Their noisome clamour?

_Sal._ You have said they are men;
As such their hearts are something.

_Sar._ So my dogs' are;
And better, as more faithful:--but, proceed;
Thou hast my signet:--since they are tumultuous,
Let them be tempered, yet not roughly, till
Necessity enforce it. I hate all pain,
Given or received; we have enough within us,
The meanest vassal as the loftiest monarch, 350
Not to add to each other's natural burthen
Of mortal misery, but rather lessen,
By mild reciprocal alleviation,
The fatal penalties imposed on life:
But this they know not, or they will not know.
I have, by Baal! done all I could to soothe them:
I made no wars, I added no new imposts,
I interfered not with their civic lives,
I let them pass their days as best might suit them,
Passing my own as suited me.

_Sal._ Thou stopp'st 360
Short of the duties of a king; and therefore
They say thou art unfit to be a monarch.

_Sar._ They lie.--Unhappily, I am unfit
To be aught save a monarch; else for me
The meanest Mede might be the king instead.

_Sal._ There is one Mede, at least, who seeks to be so.

_Sar._ What mean'st thou!--'tis thy secret; thou desirest
Few questions, and I'm not of curious nature.
Take the fit steps; and, since necessity
Requires, I sanction and support thee. Ne'er 370
Was man who more desired to rule in peace
The peaceful only: if they rouse me, better
They had conjured up stern Nimrod from his ashes,
"The Mighty Hunter!" I will turn these realms
To one wide desert chase of brutes, who _were_,
But _would_ no more, by their own choice, be human.
_What_ they have found me, they belie; _that which_
They yet may find me--shall defy their wish
To speak it worse; and let them thank themselves.

_Sal._ Then thou at last canst feel?

_Sar._ Feel! who feels not 380
Ingratitude?[14]

_Sal._ I will not pause to answer
With words, but deeds. Keep thou awake that energy
Which sleeps at times, but is not dead within thee,
And thou may'st yet be glorious in thy reign,
As powerful in thy realm. Farewell! [_Exit_ SALEMENES.

_Sar._ (_solus_). Farewell!
He's gone; and on his finger bears my signet,
Which is to him a sceptre. He is stern
As I am heedless; and the slaves deserve
To feel a master. What may be the danger,
I know not: he hath found it, let him quell it. 390
Must I consume my life--this little life--
In guarding against all may make it less?
It is not worth so much! It were to die
Before my hour, to live in dread of death,
Tracing revolt; suspecting all about me,
Because they are near; and all who are remote,
Because they are far. But if it should be so--
If they should sweep me off from Earth and Empire,
Why, what is Earth or Empire of the Earth?
I have loved, and lived, and multiplied my image; 400
To die is no less natural than those
Acts of this clay! 'Tis true I have not shed
Blood as I might have done, in oceans, till
My name became the synonyme of Death--
A terror and a trophy. But for this
I feel no penitence; my life is love:
If I must shed blood, it shall be by force.
Till now, no drop from an Assyrian vein
Hath flowed for me, nor hath the smallest coin
Of Nineveh's vast treasures e'er been lavished 410
On objects which could cost her sons a tear:
If then they hate me, 'tis because I hate not:
If they rebel, 'tis because I oppress not.
Oh, men! ye must be ruled with scythes, not sceptres,
And mowed down like the grass, else all we reap
Is rank abundance, and a rotten harvest
Of discontents infecting the fair soil,
Making a desert of fertility.--
I'll think no more.--Within there, ho!

_Enter an_ ATTENDANT.

_Sar._ Slave, tell
The Ionian Myrrha we would crave her presence. 420

_Attend._ King, she is here.

MYRRHA _enters_.

_Sar._ (_apart to Attendant_). Away!

(_Addressing_ MYRRHA.) Beautiful being!
Thou dost almost anticipate my heart;
It throbbed for thee, and here thou comest: let me
Deem that some unknown influence, some sweet oracle,
Communicates between us, though unseen,
In absence, and attracts us to each other.

_Myr._ There doth.

_Sar._ I know there doth, but not its name:
What is it?

_Myr._ In my native land a God,
And in my heart a feeling like a God's,
Exalted; yet I own 'tis only mortal; 430
For what I feel is humble, and yet happy--
That is, it would be happy; but---- [MYRRHA _pauses_.

_Sar._ There comes
For ever something between us and what
We deem our happiness: let me remove
The barrier which that hesitating accent
Proclaims to thine, and mine is sealed.

_Myr._ My Lord!--

_Sar._ My Lord--my King--Sire--Sovereign; thus it is--
For ever thus, addressed with awe. I ne'er
Can see a smile, unless in some broad banquet's
Intoxicating glare, when the buffoons 440
Have gorged themselves up to equality,
Or I have quaffed me down to their abasement.
Myrrha, I can hear all these things, these names,
Lord--King--Sire--Monarch--nay, time was I prized them;
That is, I suffered them--from slaves and nobles;
But when they falter from the lips I love,
The lips which have been pressed to mine, a chill
Comes o'er my heart, a cold sense of the falsehood
Of this my station, which represses feeling
In those for whom I have felt most, and makes me 450
Wish that I could lay down the dull tiara,
And share a cottage on the Caucasus
With thee--and wear no crowns but those of flowers.

_Myr._ Would that we could!

_Sar._ And dost _thou_ feel this?--Why?

_Myr._ Then thou wouldst know what thou canst never know.

_Sar._ And that is----

_Myr._ The true value of a heart;
At least, a woman's.

_Sar._ I have proved a thousand--A
thousand, and a thousand.

_Myr._ Hearts?

_Sar._ I think so.

_Myr._ Not one! the time may come thou may'st.

_Sar._ It will.
Hear, Myrrha; Salemenes has declared-- 460
Or why or how he hath divined it, Belus,
Who founded our great realm, knows more than I--
But Salemenes hath declared my throne
In peril.

_Myr._ He did well.

_Sar._ And say'st _thou_ so?
Thou whom he spurned so harshly, and now dared[g]
Drive from our presence with his savage jeers,
And made thee weep and blush?

_Myr._ I should do both
More frequently, and he did well to call me
Back to my duty. But thou spakest of peril
Peril to thee----

_Sar._ Aye, from dark plots and snares 470
From Medes--and discontented troops and nations.
I know not what--a labyrinth of things--
A maze of muttered threats and mysteries:
Thou know'st the man--it is his usual custom.
But he is honest. Come, we'll think no more on't--
But of the midnight festival.

_Myr._ 'Tis time
To think of aught save festivals. Thou hast not
Spurned his sage cautions?

_Sar._ What?--and dost thou fear?

_Myr._ Fear!--I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death?
A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom? 480

_Sar._ Then wherefore dost thou turn so pale?

_Myr._ I love.

_Sar._ And do not I? I love thee far--far more
Than either the brief life or the wide realm,
Which, it may be, are menaced;--yet I blench not.

_Myr._ That means thou lovest nor thyself nor me;
For he who loves another loves himself,
Even for that other's sake. This is too rash:
Kingdoms and lives are not to be so lost.

_Sar._ Lost!--why, who is the aspiring chief who dared
Assume to win them?

_Myr._ Who is he should dread 490
To try so much? When he who is their ruler
Forgets himself--will they remember him?

_Sar._ Myrrha!

_Myr._ Frown not upon me: you have smiled
Too often on me not to make those frowns
Bitterer to bear than any punishment
Which they may augur.--King, I am your subject!
Master, I am your slave! Man, I have loved you!--
Loved you, I know not by what fatal weakness,
Although a Greek, and born a foe to monarchs--
A slave, and hating fetters--an Ionian, 500
And, therefore, when I love a stranger, more
Degraded by that passion than by chains!
Still I have loved you. If that love were strong
Enough to overcome all former nature,
Shall it not claim the privilege to save you?

_Sar._ _Save_ me, my beauty! Thou art very fair,
And what I seek of thee is love--not safety.

_Myr._ And without love where dwells security?

_Sar._ I speak of woman's love.

_Myr._ The very first
Of human life must spring from woman's breast, 510
Your first small words are taught you from her lips,
Your first tears quenched by her, and your last sighs
Too often breathed out in a woman's hearing,
When men have shrunk from the ignoble care
Of watching the last hour of him who led them.

_Sar._ My eloquent Ionian! thou speak'st music:
The very chorus of the tragic song
I have heard thee talk of as the favourite pastime
Of thy far father-land. Nay, weep not--calm thee.

_Myr._ I weep not.--But I pray thee, do not speak 520
About my fathers or their land.

_Sar._ Yet oft
Thou speakest of them.

_Myr._ True--true: constant thought
Will overflow in words unconsciously;
But when another speaks of Greeks, it wounds me.

_Sar._ Well, then, how wouldst thou _save_ me, as thou saidst?

_Myr._ By teaching thee to save thyself, and not
Thyself alone, but these vast realms, from all
The rage of the worst war--the war of brethren.

_Sar._ Why, child, I loathe all war, and warriors;
I live in peace and pleasure: what can man 530
Do more?

_Myr._ Alas! my Lord, with common men
There needs too oft the show of war to keep
The substance of sweet peace; and, for a king,
'Tis sometimes better to be feared than loved.

_Sar._ And I have never sought but for the last.

_Myr._ And now art neither.

_Sar._ Dost _thou_ say so, Myrrha?

_Myr._ I speak of civic popular love, _self_-love,
Which means that men are kept in awe and law,
Yet not oppressed--at least they must not think so,
Or, if they think so, deem it necessary, 540
To ward off worse oppression, their own passions.
A King of feasts, and flowers, and wine, and revel,
And love, and mirth, was never King of Glory.

_Sar._ Glory! what's that?

_Myr._ Ask of the Gods thy fathers.

_Sar._ They cannot answer; when the priests speak for them,
'Tis for some small addition to the temple.

_Myr._ Look to the annals of thine Empire's founders.

_Sar._ They are so blotted o'er with blood, I cannot.
But what wouldst have? the Empire _has been_ founded.
I cannot go on multiplying empires. 550

_Myr._ Preserve thine own.

_Sar._ At least, I will enjoy it.
Come, Myrrha, let us go on to the Euphrates:
The hour invites, the galley is prepared,
And the pavilion, decked for our return,
In fit adornment for the evening banquet,
Shall blaze with beauty and with light, until
It seems unto the stars which are above us
Itself an opposite star; and we will sit
Crowned with fresh flowers like----

_Myr._ Victims.

_Sar._ No, like sovereigns,
The Shepherd Kings of patriarchal times, 560
Who knew no brighter gems than summer wreaths,[h]
And none but tearless triumphs. Let us on.

_Enter_ PANIA.

_Pan._ May the King live for ever!

_Sar._ Not an hour
Longer than he can love. How my soul hates
This language, which makes life itself a lie,
Flattering dust with eternity.[i] Well, Pania!
Be brief.

_Pan._ I am charged by Salemenes to
Reiterate his prayer unto the King,
That for this day, at least, he will not quit
The palace: when the General returns, 570
He will adduce such reasons as will warrant
His daring, and perhaps obtain the pardon
Of his presumption.

_Sar._ What! am I then cooped?
Already captive? can I not even breathe
The breath of heaven? Tell prince Salemenes,
Were all Assyria raging round the walls
In mutinous myriads, I would still go forth.

_Pan._ I must obey, and yet----

_Myr._ Oh, Monarch, listen.--
How many a day and moon thou hast reclined
Within these palace walls in silken dalliance, 580
And never shown thee to thy people's longing;
Leaving thy subjects' eyes ungratified,
The satraps uncontrolled, the Gods unworshipped,
And all things in the anarchy of sloth,
Till all, save evil, slumbered through the realm!
And wilt thou not now tarry for a day,--
A day which may redeem thee? Wilt thou not
Yield to the few still faithful a few hours,
For them, for thee, for thy past fathers' race,
And for thy sons' inheritance?

_Pan._ 'Tis true! 590
From the deep urgency with which the Prince
Despatched me to your sacred presence, I
Must dare to add my feeble voice to that
Which now has spoken.

_Sar._ No, it must not be.

_Myr._ For the sake of thy realm!

_Sar._ Away!

_Pan._ For that
Of all thy faithful subjects, who will rally
Round thee and thine.

_Sar._ These are mere fantasies:
There is no peril:--'tis a sullen scheme
Of Salemenes, to approve his zeal,
And show himself more necessary to us. 600

_Myr._ By all that's good and glorious take this counsel.

_Sar._ Business to-morrow.

_Myr._ Aye--or death to-night.

_Sar._ Why let it come then unexpectedly,
'Midst joy and gentleness, and mirth and love;
So let me fall like the plucked rose!--far better
Thus than be withered.

_Myr._ Then thou wilt not yield,
Even for the sake of all that ever stirred
A monarch into action, to forego
A trifling revel.

_Sar._ No.

_Myr._ Then yield for _mine_;
For my sake!

_Sar._ Thine, my Myrrha!

_Myr._ 'Tis the first 610
Boon which I ever asked Assyria's king.

_Sar._ That's true, and, wer't my kingdom, must be granted.
Well, for thy sake, I yield me. Pania, hence!
Thou hear'st me.

_Pan._ And obey. [_Exit_ PANIA.

_Sar._ I marvel at thee.
What is thy motive, Myrrha, thus to urge me?

_Myr._ Thy safety; and the certainty that nought
Could urge the Prince thy kinsman to require
Thus much from thee, but some impending danger.

_Sar._ And if I do not dread it, why shouldst thou?

_Myr._ Because _thou_ dost not fear, I fear for _thee_. 620

_Sar._ To-morrow thou wilt smile at these vain fancies.

_Myr._ If the worst come, I shall be where none weep,
And that is better than the power to smile.
And thou?

_Sar._ I shall be King, as heretofore.

_Myr._ Where?

_Sar._ With Baal, Nimrod, and Semiramis,
Sole in Assyria, or with them elsewhere.
Fate made me what I am--may make me nothing--
But either that or nothing must I be:
I will not live degraded.

_Myr._ Hadst thou felt
Thus always, none would ever dare degrade thee. 630

_Sar._ And who will do so now?

_Myr._ Dost thou suspect none?

_Sar._ Suspect!--that's a spy's office. Oh! we lose
Ten thousand precious moments in vain words,
And vainer fears. Within there!--ye slaves, deck
The Hall of Nimrod for the evening revel;
If I must make a prison of our palace,
At least we'll wear our fetters jocundly;
If the Euphrates be forbid us, and
The summer-dwelling on its beauteous border,
Here we are still unmenaced. Ho! within there! 640
[_Exit_ SARDANAPALUS.

_Myr._ (_solus_).
Why do I love this man? My country's daughters
Love none but heroes. But I have no country!
The slave hath lost all save her bonds. I love him;
And that's the heaviest link of the long chain--
To love whom we esteem not. Be it so:
The hour is coming when he'll need all love,
And find none. To fall from him now were baser
Than to have stabbed him on his throne when highest
Would have been noble in my country's creed:
I was not made for either. Could I save him, 650
I should not love _him_ better, but myself;
And I have need of the last, for I have fallen
In my own thoughts, by loving this soft stranger:
And yet, methinks, I love him more, perceiving
That he is hated of his own barbarians,
The natural foes of all the blood of Greece.
Could I but wake a single thought like those
Which even the Phrygians felt when battling long
'Twixt Ilion and the sea, within his heart,
He would tread down the barbarous crowds, and triumph. 660
He loves me, and I love him; the slave loves
Her master, and would free him from his vices.
If not, I have a means of freedom still,
And if I cannot teach him how to reign,
May show him how alone a King can leave
His throne. I must not lose him from my sight. [_Exit_.