Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series

by Lord Byron

  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

  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, did he not?

  Sal. He did, and thence was deemed a Deity.

  Sar. Not so: — of all his conquests a few columns.

  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

&nb
sp; 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.”

  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;

  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 that e’er divided

  A name from nothing. What are the rank tongues 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?

  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,