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And died for lack of farther nutriment.

Of whom our captives often sing, related

Those gods were merely men; look to their issue- The same of their ce nero, Hercules,

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Sal. Thou art guarded by thy fees; 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 environ'd 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,
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.

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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 temper'd, 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,
Not to add to each other's natural burden
Of mortal misery, but rather lessen,
By mild reciprocal alleviation,

Sal. Wouldst thou not take their lives who seek The fatal penalties imposed on life:

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Sal. But thou wouldst arm thee, wouldst thou not,"
if needful?

Sar. Perhaps. I have the goodliest armor, 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?
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 turn'd into a distaff.

Sal. They say, thy sceptre's turn'd to that already?
Sar. That's false! but let them say so; the old
Greeks,

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
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.
Ingratitude?
Sal.
I will not pause to answer
With words, but deeds. Keep thou awake that
energy

Feel! who feels not

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!

Sar. (solus.

[Exit SALEMENES. 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.
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.

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

MYRRHA enters.

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

Thou dost almost anticipate my heart;

not

Can see a smile, unless in some broad banquet's
Intoxicating glare, when the buffoons
Have gorged themselves up to equality

353

Or I have quaff'd 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 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.

Myr. Not one! the time may come thou may'st.
Sar.

Hear, Myrrha; Salemenes has declared

It will

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.

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Thou whom he spurn'd so harshly, and now dared

Slave, tell 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 speak'st of peril-
Peril to thee-
Sar.

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

It throbb'd 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.

What is it?

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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?

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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:
Kingdoms and lives are not to be so lost.

Sar. My lord-my king-sire-sovereign; thus it Sar. Lost!-why who is the aspiring chief who

is

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

dared

Assume to win them?

Myr.

Who is he should dread
To try so much? When he who is their ruler
Forgets himself, will they remember him?
Sar. Myrrha !
Myr.

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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

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Not an hour

Sar.
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 yet-
But when another speaks of Greece, it wounds me. Myr.
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.

Oh, monarch, listen.-
How many a day and moon thou hast reclined
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,

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.
Sar.

No, it must not be.
Myr. For the sake of thy realm!
Sar.

Pan.

Away!

For that

Of all thy faithful subjects, who will rally
Round thee and thine.

Sar.
These are mere phantasies;
There is no peril :-'tis a sullen scheme
Of Salemenes to approve his zeal,
And show himself more necessary to us.
Myr. By all that's good and glorious take this
counsel.

Sar. Business to-morrow

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Pan. [Exit PANIA. Sar. I marvel at thee. What is thy motive Myrrha, thus to urge me?

Myr. Thy safety; aud 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. Sar. To-morrow thou wilt smile at these vain fancies.

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.

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.

ACT II. SCENE I.

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

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.

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

Fate made me what I am-may make me nothing-Seem'd everlasting; but oh! thou true sun!
But either that or nothing must I be;

I will not live degraded.

Hadst thou felt

Myr.
Thus always, none would ever dare degrade thee.
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!
[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 stabb'd 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,
I should not love him better, but myself;
And I have need of the last, for I have fallen
In my owh thoughts, by loving this soft stranger:
And yet methinks I love him more, perciving

The burning oracle of all that live,
As fountain of all life, and symbol of
Him who bestows it, wherefore dost thou limit
Thy lore unto calamity? Why not
Unfold the rise of days more worthy thine
All glorious burst from ocean? why not dart
A beam of hope athwart the future years,
As of wrath to its days? Hear me! oh! hear me
I am thy worshipper, thy priest, thy servant-
I have gazed on thee at thy rise and fall,
And bow'd my head beneath thy mid-day beams,
When my eye dared not meet thee. I have watch'd
For thee, and after thee, and pray'd to thee,
And sacrificed to thee, and read, and fear'd thee,
And ask'd of thee, and thou hast answer'd-but
Only to thus much: while I speak, he sinks-
Is gone-and leaves his beauty, not his knowledge,
To the delighted west, which revels in
Its hues of dying glory. Yet what is
Death, so it be but glorious? "Tis a sunset;
And mortals may be happy to resemble
The gods but in decay.

Enter ARBACES, by an inner door.
Beleses, why

Arb.
So rapt in thy devotions? Dost thou stand
Gazing to trace thy disappearing god
Into some realm of undiscover'd day?
Our business is with night-'tis come.
Bel.

Gone.

But not

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. There is no more to thwart us. The she-king, 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. Bel. "Twas a brave one. Arb. And is a weak one-'tis worn out-we'll mend it.

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Bel.

Look to the sky.

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Arb.

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

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And why?

I know not.

Bel.
And midst them, mark
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 hast not

Seen me turn back from battle.
Arb.
No; I own thee
As firm in fight as Babylonia's captain,
As skilful in Chaldea's worship; now,
Will it but please thee to forget the priest,
And be the warrior?

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Bel. (to Arb. aside.) Hush! let him go his way. (Alternately to Bal.) Yes, Balea, thank the monarch, 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.

Arb.

Still-I like it not.

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