What?

Thou hast not

and dost thou fear?

Sar. Myr. Fear!-I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death?

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.

[dared

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 monarchsA 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 2

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

About my fathers or their land.

chronism. Nor could Myrrha, at so early a period of her country's history, have spoken of their national hatred of kings, or of that which was equally the growth of a later age, -their contempt for "barbarians."- HEBER.]

Sar.

Thou speakest of them.

Myr.

Yet oft

True true: constant thought Will overflow in words unconsciously; But when another speaks of Greece, 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 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. But what wouldst have? the empire has been founded. I cannot go on multiplying empires.

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, deck'd 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 Crown'd with fresh flowers like

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
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,
And never shown thee to thy people's longing;
Leaving thy subjects' eyes ungratified,
The satraps uncontroll'd, the gods unworshipp'd,
And all things in the anarchy of sloth,
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 fathers' race,
And for thy sons' 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.

Boon which I ever ask'd Assyria's king.
Sar. That's true, and were 't my kingdom, must be
granted.
Well, for thy sake, I yield me.
Thou hear'st me.

Pan. Sar.

And obey.

Pania, hence!

[Exit PANIA.

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. Sar. To-morrow thou wilt smile at these vain fancies. [weep,

Myr. If the worst come, I shall be where none

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 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.

He loves me, and I love him; the slave loves
Her master, and would free him from his vices.

1 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.

ACT II. SCENE 1.

[Exit. 1

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

sets more slowly,

[There are two of Lord Byron's characteristic excel. lences, which he never leaves behind in his most fantastic expeditions, and which he has accordingly brought into his new domain of classic tragedy. One of these is his intense feeling of the loveliness of woman-his power, not only of picturing individual forms, but of infusing into the very atmosphere which surrounds them the spirit of beauty and of love. A soft roseate light is spread over them, which seems to sink into the soul. The other faculty to which we allude is his

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,

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
Seem'd everlasting; but oh! thou true sun!
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

--

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.

"T was a brave one.

comprehensive sympathy with the vastest objects in the material universe. There is scarcely any pure description of individual scenes in all his works; but the noblest allusions to the grandeurs of earth and heaven. He pays "no allegiance but to the elements." The moon, the stars, the ocean, the mountain desert, are endowed by him with new "speech and language," and send to the heart their mighty voices. He can interpret between us and the firmament, or give us all the sentiment of an everlasting solitude. - Anon.]

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.

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

No; I own thee

His summer dotage.

Bel.

Arb. 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?

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.

Now were I a soothsayer,

I would have boded so much to myself.
But be the stars obey'd-I cannot quarrel
With them, nor their interpreter. Who's here?

But elsewhere than the palace.

Sal. 'Tis not the hour.

Sal

-so far that

[of,

You hear him, and me.

[The Guards attack ARBACES, who defends himself valiantly and dexterously till they

waver.

Is it even so; and must I do the hangman's office? Recreants! see How you should fell a traitor.

Sar.

[SALEMENES attacks ARBACES.

Enter SARDANAPALUS and Train. Hold your hands. Upon your lives, I say. What, deaf or drunken? My sword! O fool, I wear no sword: here, fellow, Give me thy weapon. [To a Guard. [SARDANAPALUS snatches a sword from one of the soldiers, and rushes between the combatants they separate.

Sar.

In my very palace!

What hinders me from cleaving you in twain, Audacious brawlers?

["But found the monarch claim'd his privacy."-MS.]

Sal. (showing the signet). Thine.
Arb. (confused).
The king's!
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.

Here I am but your slave-a moment past
I was your representative.
Sar.
Your swords.

Then sheathe

[ARBACES and SALEMENES return their swords

to the scabbards.

Sal. Mine's sheathed: I pray you sheathe not yours: "Tis the sole sceptre left you now with safety.

Sar. A heavy one; the hilt, too, hurts my hand. (To a Guard.) Here, fellow, take thy weapon back. Well, sirs,

What doth this mean?

Let him deliver up his weapon, and
Proclaim himself your subject by that duty,
And I will answer all.
Sar.
Why, if I thought so---
But no, it cannot be: the Mede Arbaces-
The trusty, rough, true soldier-the best captain
Of all who discipline our nations- No,
I'll not insult him thus, to bid him render
The scimitar to me he never yielded
Unto our enemies. Chief, keep your weapon.
Sal. (delivering back the signet). Monarch, take
back your signet.