Chapter 2

_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._ Curséd 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 contemnéd 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_.