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 inaster. What may be the danger,
I know not: he hath found it, let him quell it.
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 afar. 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;
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 flow'd for me, nor hath the smallest coin
Of Nineveh's vast treasures e'er been lavish'd
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,
sceptres,

And mow'd down like grass, else all we reap
Is rank abundance, and a rotten harvest

Of dicontents infecting the fair soil,

Making a desert of fertility.—

I'll think no more. -Within there, ho!

Sar.

Enter an Attendant.

not

Slave, tell

The Ionian Myrrha we would crave her presence.
Attend. King, she is here.

MYRRHA enters.

Sar. (apart to Attendant.) Away! (Addressing MYRRHA.)

That is, I suffer'd them from-slaves and nobles;
But when they falter from the lips I love,
The lips which have been press'd 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
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.

At least, a woman's.
Sar.

The true value of a heart;

I have proved a thousand

Hearts?

I think so.

A thousand, and a thousand.

Myr.

Sar.

Ay, from dark plots and snares Beautiful being From Medes-and discontented troops and nations. I know not what-a labyrinth of things

To think of aught save festivals. Thou hast not

I know there doth, but not its name; Spurn'd his sage cautions?
Sar.
What?-and dost thou fear i
Myr. Fear?-I'm a Greek, and how should I fear
death?

Myr. In my native land a god,
And in my heart a feeling like a god's,
Exalted: yet I own 'tis only mortal;
For what I feel is humble, and yet happy-
That is, it would be happy; but—————

[MYRRHA pauses.
There comes

A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom?
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:
My lord! Kingdoms and lives are not to be so lost.
Sar. Lost!-why who is the aspiring chief who
dared
Assume to win them?

Sar.
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 seal'd.
Myr.

Sar. My lord-my king-sire-sovereign; thus it is

For ever thus address'd with awe. I ne'er

Sar. Myrrha !
Myr.

Frown not upon me: you have smiled Come, Myrrha, let us on to the Euphrates;
Too often on me not to make those frowns
The hour invites, the galley is prepared,
Bitterer to bear than any punishment
And the pavilion, deck'd for our return,
In fit adornment for the evening banquet,

Which they may augur.-King, I am your subject!
Master, I am your slave! Man, I have loved you!-Shall blaze with beauty and with light, until

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,
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,
Your first small words are taught you from her lips,
Your first tears quench'd 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 favorite pastime
Of thy far father-land. Nay, weep not-calm thee.
Myr. I weep not. But I pray thee, do not speak
About my fathers or their land.
Sar.

Thou speakest of them.
Myr.

Yet oft

It seems unto the stars which are above us
Itself an opposite star; and we will sit
Crown'd with fresh flowers like

Myr.
Sar.

Victims.

No, like sovereigns,

The shepherd kings of patriarchal times,
Who knew no brighter gems than summer wreaths,
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. 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,
He will adduce such reasons as will warrant
His daring, and perhaps obtain the pardon
Of his presumption.

Sar.
What! am I then coop'd?
Already captive? can I not even breathe
The breath of heaven? Tell prince Salemenes,
Were all Assyria raging round the walls

True true constant thought In mutinous myriads, I would still go forth. Will overflow in words unconsciously; Pan. I must obey, and yetBut when another speaks of Greece, it wounds me. Myr. Oh, monarch, listen.Sar. Well, then, how wouldst thou save me, as How many a day and moon thou hast reclined thou saidst? Within these palace walls in silken dalliance, And never shown thee to thy people's longing; Leaving thy subjects' eyes ungratified, The satraps uncontroll'd, the gods unworshipp'd,

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-And all things in the anarchy of sloth,

I live in peace and pleasure: what can man
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 fear'd 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 oppress'd-at least they must not think so;
Or if they think so, deem it necessary,
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,

Till all, save evil, slumber'd 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 father's race,
And for thy son's inheritance?

Pan.
'Tis true!
From the deep urgency with which the prince
? Despatch'd me to your sacred presence, I
Must dare to add my feeble voice to that
Which now has spoken.

The Portal of the same Hall of the Palace. Beleses, (solus.) The sun goes down: methinks he sets more slowly,

Taking his last look of Assyria's empire;
How red he glares amongst those deepening clouds
Like the blood he predicts. If not in vain,
Thou sun that sinkest, and ye stars which rise,

Myr. If the worst come, I shall be where none I have outwatch'd ye, reading ray by ray

The edicts of your orbs, which make Time tremble
For what he brings the nations, 'tis the furthest
Hour of Assyria's years. And yet how calm!
An earthquake should announce so great a fall-
A summer's sun discloses it. Yon disk,
To the star-read Chaldean, bears upon
Its everlasting page the end of what
nothing-Seem'd everlasting; but oh! thou true sun!
The burning oracle of all that live,
As fountain of all life, and symbol of

356

Arh. Let it roll on-we are ready.
Bel.

Would it were over.

Arb.

Yes.

Does the prophet doubt,
To whom the very stars shine victory?

Bel. I do not doubt of victory-but the victor.
Arb. Well, let thy science settle that. Meantime
I have prepared as many glittering spears
As will out-sparkle our allies-your planets.
The she-king,
There is no more to thwart us.
That less than woman, is even now upon
The waters with his female mates. The order
Is issued for the feast in the pavilion.
The first cup which he drains will be the last
Quaff'd by the line of Nimrod.
'Twas a brave one.
Bel.
Arb. And is a weak one-'tis worn out-we'll
mend it.

Bel. Art sure of that?
Arb.

Its founder was a hunter-
I am a soldier-what is there to fear?
Bel. The soldier.
Arb.
And the priest, it may be; but
If you thought thus, or think, why not retain
Your king of concubines? why stir me up?
Why spur me to this enterprise? your own
No less than mine?

Bel.
Arb.

Why not? they are soldiers.

True
And therefore need a soldier to command them.
Bel. That Salemenes is.
But not their king.
Arb.
Besides, he hates the effeminate thing that governs,
For the queen's sake, his sister. Mark you not
He keeps aloof from all the revels?
But
Bel.

Not from the council-there he is ever constant.
Arb. And ever thwarted; what would you have

Bel.

Look to the sky.

Arb.

I look.

Bel. What seest thou?
Arb.

A fair summer's twilight, and The gathering of the stars.

Bal.

May I retire?

Arb.

Stay.

And why?

I know not.

And midst them, mark
Bel.
Yon earliest, and the brightest which so quivers,
As it would quit its place in the blue ether.
Arb. Well?
Bel 'Tis thy natal ruler-thy birth planet.
Arb. (touching his scabbard.) My star is in this
scabbard when it shines,

It shall out-dazzle comets. Let us think
Of what is to be done to justify

Thy planets and their portents. When we conquer,
They shall have temples-ay, and priests-and thou
Shalt be the pontiff of-what gods thou wilt;
For I observe that they are ever just,
And own the bravest for the most devout.

Bel. Ay, and the most devout for brave-thou

Bel. (to Arb. aside.) Hush let him go his way.
|(Alternately to Bal.) Yes, Balea, thank the mon-
arch, kiss the hem

Of his imperial robe, and say, his slaves
Will take the crumbs he deigns to scatter from
His royal table at the hour-was't midnight?

Bal. It was the place the hall of Nimrod. Lords,
I humble me before you, and depart. [Exit BALEA.
Arb. I like not this same sudden change of place;
There is some mystery: wherefore should he change
it ?

Bel. Doth he not change a thousand times a day?
Sloth is of all things the most fanciful-
And moves more parasangs in its intents
Than generals in their marches, when they seek
To leave their foe at fault.-Why dost thou muse?
Arb. He loved that gay pavilion,-it was ever
His summer dotage.
Bel.

And he loved his queen-
And thrice a thousand harlotry besides—
And he has loved all things by turns, except
Wisdom and glory.

If he has changed-why, so must we: the attack
Were easy in the isolated bower,

Beset with drowsy guards and drunken courtiers;
But in the hall of Nimrod-

Is it so ?

Bel.
Methought the haughty soldier fear'd to mount
A throne too easily-does it disappoint thee
To find there is a slipperier step or two
Than what was counted on?

When the hour comes
Arb.
Thou shalt perceive how far I fear or no.
Thou hast seen my life at stake-and gaily play'd

for

Sal. Yes! and let the king confirm it. Sar. I parted not from this for such a purpose Sal. You parted with it for your safety-I Employ'd it for the best. Pronounce in person Within Here I am but your slave-a moment past I was your representative.