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Sal. Why, like a man—a hero; baffled, but | And skirts of these our realms lle not, Not vanquish'd. With but twenty guards,

she made

Good her retreat to Bactria.

Sard. And how many

Left she behind in India to the vultures?
Sal. Our annals say not.

Sard. 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.

Semiramis, the glorious parent of

A hundred kings, although she fail'd in
India,

Brought Persia, Media, Bactria, to the
realm

Which she once sway'd-and thou mightst

sway.

Sard. I sway them—
She but subdued them.
Sal. It may be ere long

That they will need her sword more than
your sceptre.

Sard. 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,
Who conquer'd this same golden realm of
Ind

Thou prat'st of, where Semiramis was
vanquish❜d.

Sal. I have heard of such a man; and thou perceiv'st

That he is deem'd a god for what he did.
Sard. And in his godship I will honour
him-

Not much as man. What, ho! my cupbearer!
Sal.
What means the king?

Sard. To worship your new god
And ancient conqueror. Some wine, I say.

Enter Cupbearer.

Sard. (addressing the Cupbearer)
Bring me the golden goblet thick with gems,
Which bears the name of Nimrod's chalice.
Hence!
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.
Sard. (taking the cup from him) Noble
kinsman,

If these barbarian Greeks of the far shores

this Bacchus

Conquer'd the whole of India, did he not?
Sal. He did,and thence was deem'd a deity.
Sard. Not so:- of all his conquests a
few columns,

Which
may be his, and might be mine, if I
Thought them worth purchase and con-
veyance, are

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
From which he first express'd the soul, and
To immortality-the immortal grape

gave

To gladden that of man, as some atonement
For the victorious mischiefs he had done.
A mortal still in name as in his grave;
Had it not been for this, he would have been
A sort of semi-glorious human monster.
And, like my ancestor Semiramis,
Humanize thee; my surly, chiding brother,
Here's that which deified him- let it now
Pledge me to the Greek god!

Sal. For all thy realms

I would not so blaspheme our country's
creed.

Sard. That is to say, thou thinkest him
That he shed blood by oceans; and no god,
a hero,
Which cheers the sad, revives the old,inspires
Because he turn'd a fruit to an enchantment,
The young, makes Weariness forget his toil,
And Fear her danger; opens a new world
When this, the present, palls. Well, then,

I pledge thee

In good or evil to surprise mankind.
And him as a true man, who did his utmost

[Drinks.

Sal. Wilt thou resume a revel at this hour?
Sard. And if I did, 'twere better than
Being bought without a tear. But that is not
a trophy,
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 recall'd thee from thy dream:

Better by me awaken'd than rebellion.
Sard. 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.

Sard. But

Thou thinkst that I have wrong'd the queen: is't not so?

Sal. Think! Thou hast wrong'd her!

Sard. Patience, prince, and hear me. She has all power and splendour of her station,

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!
Nor would she deign to accept divided
passion

With foreign strumpets and Ionian slaves. The queen is silent.

Sard. And why not her brother?

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

Sard. 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,
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 lavish'd treasures, and contemned

virtues.

Sard. Now, for my trophies I have founded cities:

Sal. A worthy moral, and a wise inscription,

For a king to put up before his subjects! Sard. Oh, thou wouldst have me doubtless set up edicts

"Obey the king contribute to his treasureRecruit 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.
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 licence
Which I deny to them. We all are men.
Sal. Thy sires have been revered as
gods-

Sard. In dust

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There's Tarsus and Anchialus, both built And thine and mine; and in another day

In one day-what could that blood-loving | What is
beldame,

My martial grandam, chaste Semiramis,
Do more, except destroy them?

Sal. 'Tis most true:

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.

Sard. 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,
In one day built Anchialus and Tarsus.
Eat, drink, and love; the rest's not worth
a fillip."

Sard.

Sal.

shall be the past of Belus' race.

What must we dread?
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. Sard. 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.

Sard. I will trust no man with unli

mited 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?

Sard. That's a hard question.--But, I answer Yes.

Cannot the thing be done without? Who |I would not give the smile of one fair girl

are they

Whom thou suspectest? - Let them be arrested.

Sal. I would thou wouldst not ask me; the next moment

For all the popular breath that e'er divided A name from nothing. What are the rank tongues

Of this vile herd, grown insolent with feeding,

Will send my answer through thy bab-That I should prize their noisy praise, or

bling troop

Of paramours,and thence fly o'er the palace,
Even to the city, and so baffle all.—
Trust me.

Sard. Thou knowest I have done so ever;
Take thou the signet. [Gives the Signet.
Sal. I have one more request.
Sard. Name it.

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dread

Their noisome clamour?

Sal. You have said they are men;
As such their hearts are something.
Sard. So my dogs' are;

And better, as more faithful: – but, proceed:
Thou hast my signet:-since they are
tumultuous,

Sal. That thou this night forbear the Let them be temper'd; yet not roughly, till

banquet

In the pavilion over the Euphrates.
Sard. 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;

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?

Sard. Perhaps. armour, and A sword of such a temper; and a bow And javelin, which might furnish Nimrod forth:

I have the goodliest

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?

Sard. 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.

Sard. 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
The populace of all the nations seize
Each calumny they can to sink their
sovereigns.

Sal. They did not speak thus of thy fathers.
Sard. No;

They dared not. They were kept to toil

and combat,

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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 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

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Which sleeps at times, but is not dead

within thee,

And thou mayst yet be glorious in thy reign,
As powerful in thy realm. Farewell!
[Exit Salemenes.

Sard. (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.

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Myrrha. My lord!

For ever something between us and what We deem our happiness: let me remove The barrier which that hesitating accent Must I consume my life-this little life-Proclaims to thine, and mine is seal'd. 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 soIf 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, it is because I oppress not.
Oh, men! ye must be ruled with scythes,
not sceptres,

And mow'd 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.

Sard.

Within there, ho!

Enter an Attendant.

Slave, tell

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Sard. My lord - my king-sire—sovereign! thus it is

For ever thus, address'd with awe. I ne'er
Can see a smile, unless in some broad
banquet's

Intoxicating glare, when the buffoons
Have gorged themselves up to equality,
Or I have quaff'd me down to their abase-

ment.

Myrrha, I can hear all these things, these

names,

Lord-king-sire-monarch-nay,time
I prized them,

was

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.

Myrrha. Would that we could!
Sard. And dost thou feel this? - Why?
Myrrha. Then thou wouldst know what
thou canst never know.

Sard. And that is

Myrrha. The true value of a heart; At least a woman's.

Sard. I have proved a thousand— A thousand, and a thousand.

Myrrha. Hearts?

Sard. I think so.

Myrrha. Not one! the time may come thou mayst.

Sard. It will.

Hear, Myrrha; Salemenes has declared—
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.

Myrrha. He did well.

Sard. And sayst thou so?

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

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Assume to win them?

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

Myrrha. 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, 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?

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.

Sard. My eloquent Ionian! thou speakst 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 notcalm thee.

Myrrha. I weep not.—But I pray thee, do not speak

About my fathers or their land.
Sard. Yet oft
Thou speakest of them.

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

Sard. Well, then, how wouldst thou save me, as thou saidst? Myrrha. 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.

Sard. Why, child, I loathe all war, and

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