I tell you: after that these eyes were open, | I saw them in their flight for then they fled. Myrrha. Say on. Sard. I saw, that is, I dream'd myself Here--here-even where we are, guests as we were, Myself a host that deem'd himself but guest, Willing to equal all in social freedom; But, on my right hand and my left, instead Of thee and Zames, and our custom'd meeting, Was ranged on my left hand a haughty, dark, And deadly face-I could not recognize it, Yet I had seen it, though I knew not where; The features were a giant's, and the eye Was still, yet lighted; his long locks curl'd down On his vast bust, whence a huge quiver rose With shaft-heads feather'd from the eagle's wing, That peep'd up bristling through his serpent-hair. I invited him to fill the cup which stood upon me With the same aspect, which appall'd me more, Because it changed not, and I turn'd for refuge To milder guests, and sought them on the right, Where thou wert wont to be. But— [He pauses. Myrrha. What instead? Sard. In thy own chair-thy own place in the banquet— I sought thy sweet face in the circle-but Instead a gray-hair'd, wither'd, bloodyeyed, And bloody-handed, ghastly, ghostly thing, Female in garb, and crown'd upon the brow, Furrow'd with years, yet sneering with the passion Of vengeance, leering too with that of lust, Myrrha. Is this all? Her right hand—her lank, bird-like right hand-stood A goblet, bubbling o'er with blood; and on Her left, another, fill'd with- what I saw not, But turn'd from it and her. But all along The table sate a range of crowned wretches, Of various aspects, but of one expression. Myrrha. And felt you not this a mere vision? Sard. No: It was so palpable, I could have touch'd them. I turn'd from one face to another, in | The hope to find at last one which I knew Till I grew stone, as they seem'd half to be, Myrrha. And the end? Sard. At last I sate marble as they, when rose The hunter, and the crew; and smiling on me Yes, the enlarged but noble aspect of woman's Thin lips relax'd to something like a smile. Both rose, and the crown'd figures on each hand Rose also, as if aping their chief shadesMere mimics even in death-but I sate still: A desperate courage crept through every limb, And at the last I fear'd them not, but laugh'd Full in their phantom-faces. But then then The hunter laid his hand on mine: I took it, And grasp'd it--but it melted from my own, While he too vanish'd, and left nothing but The memory of a hero, for he look'd so. Myrrha. And was: the ancestor of Myrrha. So shalt thon find me ever at thy side, Here and hereafter, if the last may be. But think not of these things-the mere creations Of late events acting upon a frame Unused to toil, yet over-wrought by toil Such as might try the sternest. Sard. I am better. Now that I see thee once more, what was seen Seems nothing. Enter SALEMENES. Sal. Is the king so soon awake? For all the predecessors of our line Sal. So I term you also, Now you have shown a spirit like to hers. By day-break I propose that we set forth, And charge once more the rebcl-crew, who still Keep gathering head, repulsed, but not quite quell'd. Sard. How wears the night? Sal. There yet remain some hours Of darkness: use them for your further rest. Sard. No, not to-night, if 'tis not gone: methought I pass'd hours in that vision. Myrrha. Scarcely one; I watch'd by you: it was a heavy hour, But an hour only. Sard. Let us then hold council; To-morrow we set forth. Sal. But ere that time, I had a grace to seek, Sal. Hear it Ere you reply too readily; and 'tis Myrrha. Prince, I take my leave. That slave deserves to share a throne. Sal. Your patience 'Tis not yet vacant, and 'tis of its partner I come to speak with you. Sard. How! of the queen? Sal. Even so. I judged it fitting for their safety, That, ere the dawn, she sets forth with her children For Paphlagonia, where our kinsman Cotta Governs; and there at all events secure My nephews and your sons their lives, and with them Their just pretensions to the crown, in case Sard. I perish-as is probable: well thought Let them set forth with a sure escort. Is all provided, and the galley ready Sard. My sons? It may Unman my heart, and the poor boys will weep; And what can I reply to comfort them, Save with some hollow hopes, and ill-worn smiles? You know I cannot feign. Sal. But you can feel; At least, I trust so: in a word, the queen Requests to see you ere you part-for ever. Sard. Unto what end? what purpose? I will grant Aught-all that she can ask—but such a meeting. Sal. You know, or ought to know, Since you have studied them so steadily, Sard. "Twill be useless: Sal. I go. [Exit Salemenes. Sard. We have lived asunder Too long to meet again—and now to meet! Have I not cares enow, and pangs enow, To bear alone, that we must mingle sorrows, Who have ceased to mingle love? Re-enter SALEMENES and ZARINA. Sal. My sister! Courage: Shame not our blood with trembling, but remember From whence we sprung. The queen is present, sire. Zarina. I pray thee, brother, leave me. Sal. Since you ask it. [Exit Salemenes. Zarina. Alone with him! How many a year has past, Though we are still so young, since we have met, Which I have worn in widowhood of heart. He loved me not: yet he seems little changed Changed to me only-would the change were mutual! He speaks not-scarce regards me-not a word Sard. Tis too late A father. If thou conquerest,they shall reign, To think of these past dreams. Let's not And honour him who saved the realm for reproach That is, reproach me not-for the last timeZarina. And first. I ne'er reproach'd you. Sard. 'Tis most true; And that reproof comes heavier on my heart Than-But our hearts are not in our own power. Zarina. Nor hands; but I gave both. It was your will to see me, ere you went Zarina. Our children: it is true, I wish'd to thank you that you have not divided them, So little cared for as his own; and if— Sard. Tis lost, all earth will cry out, thank your father! And they will swell the echo with a curse. Zarina. That they shall never do; but rather honour The name of him, who, dying like a king, In his last hours did more for his own memory, Than many monarchs in a length of days, Which date the flight of time, but make no annals. Sard. Our annals draw perchance unto their close; My heart from all that's left it now to love— like you, And look upon me as you look'd upon me Once-But they have not changed. Sard. Nor ever will. I fain would have them dutiful. Zarina. I cherish Live but for those who love. Sard. And who are they? A slave, who loves from passion-I'll not say Ambition-she has seen thrones shake, and loves; A few friends, who have revell'd till we are Zarina. I have never thought of this, And cannot pardon till I have condemn'd. Sard. My wife! Zarina. Now blessings on thee for that word! I never thought to hear it more-from thee. Sard. Oh! thou wilt hear it from my subjects. Yes These slaves, whom I have nurtured, pamper'd, fed, And swoln with peace, and gorged with plenty, till They reign themselves-all monarchs in their mansions Now swarm forth in rebellion, and demand His death, who made their lives a jubilec; While the few upon whom I have no claim Shall know from me of aught but what may Are faithful! This is true, yet monstrous. Zarina. Tis Perhaps too natural; for benefits Sard. And good ones make Good out of evil. Happier than the bee, Which hives not but from wholesome flowers. Zarina. 1 know not. But yet live for Though that were much—but 'tis a point my-that is, Your children's sake! Sard, My gentle, wrong'd Zarina! I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse borne away with every breath! Misplaced upon the throne-misplaced in life. I know not what I could have been, but feel Devotion was a duty, and I hated All that look'd like a chain for me or others (This even rebellion must avouch); yet hear These words, perhaps among my last-that none E'er valued more thy virtues, though he knew not To profit by them-as the miner lights Upon a vein of virgin-ore, discovering That which avails him nothing: he hath found it, But 'tis not his-but some superior's, who Placed him to dig, but not divide the wealth Which sparkles at his feet; nor dare he lift Nor poise it, but must grovel on upturning The sullen earth. Zarina. Oh! if thou hast at length Discover'd that my love is worth esteem, I ask no more - but let us hence together, And 1-let me say we-shall yet be happy. Assyria is not all the earth - we'll find A world out of our own—and be more blest Than I have ever been, or thou, with all An empire to indulge thee. My heart will break. Sal. Now you know all-decide. Sard. Zarina, he hath spoken well, and we Must yield awhile to this necessity. Remaining here, you may lose all; departing, You save the better part of what is left To both of us, and to such loyal hearts As yet beat in these kingdoms. Sal. The time presses. Sard. Go, then. If e'er we meet again, perhaps I may be worthier of you-and, if not, Remember that my faults, though not atoned for, Are ended. Yet, I dread thy nature will Grieve more above the blighted name and ashes Which once were mightiest in Assyriathan But I grow womanish again, and must not ; I must learn sternness now. My sins have all Been of the softer order-hide thy tearsI do not bid thee not to shed them-'twere Easier to stop Euphrates at its source Than one tear of a true and tender heartBut let me not behold them; they unman me Here when I had re-mann'd myself. My brother, Lead her away. Zarina. Oh, God! I never shall Behold him more! Sal. (striving to conduct her) Nay, sister, I must be obey'd. Zarina. I must remain-away! you shall not hold me. What, shall he die alone?—I live alone? Sal. He shall not die alone; but lonely you Have lived for years. Zarina. That's false! I knew he lived, And lived upon his image-let me go! Sal. (conducting her off the stage) Nay, then, I must use some fraternal force, Which you will pardon. Zarina. Never. Help me! Oh! Sardanapalus, wilt thou thus behold me Torn from thee? Myrrha. Despise the favorite slave? Not more than I have ever scorn'd myself. Sard. Scorn'd! what, to be the envy of your sex, She will recover. Pray, keep back.-[Aside.]| And lord it o'er the heart of the world's lord? Why dost thou not expire at once in hearts A single deviation from the track Of human duties leads even those who claim Sard. You here! Who call'd you? Sard. It forms no portion of your duties To enter here till sought for. Myrrha. Though I might, Perhaps, recal some softer words of yours (Although they too were chiding), which reproved me, Because I ever dreaded to intrude; Resisting my own wish and your injunction To heed no time nor presence, but approach you Uncall'd for: I retire. Sard. Yet, stay-being here. I pray you pardon me: events have sour'd me Till I wax peevish-heed it not: I shall Soon be myself again. Myrrha. I wait with patience, What I shall see with pleasure. Sard. Scarce a moment Before your entrance in this hall, Zarina, Sard. Wherefore do you start? Sard. 'Twas well you enter'd by another Else you had met. That pang at least is spared her! Myrrha. I know to feel for her. Myrrha. Were you the lord of twice ten thousand worlds As you are like to lose the one you sway'd— Nay, more, if that the peasant were a Greek. Of man's adversity all things grow daring Perhaps because I merit them too often, Let us then part while peace is still between us. And must not all the present one day part? Myrrha. Why? Sard. For your safety, which I will have look'd to, With a strong escort to your native land; Myrrha. I pray you talk not thus. You need not shame to follow. I would fall You shall not force me from you. It soon may be too late. Myrrha. So let it be; For then you cannot separate me from you. Sard. And will not; but I thought you wish'd it. |