by Lord Byron
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 50
Is issued for the feast in the pavilion.
The first cup which he drains will be the last
Quaffed by the line of Nimrod.
Bel.’Twas a brave one.
Arb. And is a weak one — ’tis worn out — we’ll mend it.
Bel. Art sure of that?
Arb. Its founder was a hunter —
I am a soldier — what is there to fear?
Bel. The soldier.
Arb. And the priest, it may be: but
If you thought thus, or think, why not retain
Your king of concubines? why stir me up?
Why spur me to this enterprise? your own 60
No less than mine?
Bel. Look to the sky!
Arb. I look.
Bel. What seest thou?
Arb. A fair summer’s twilight, and
The gathering of the stars.
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, 70
They shall have temples — aye, 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. Aye, and the most devout for brave — thou hast not
Seen me turn back from battle.
Arb. No; I own thee
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?
Bel. Why not both?
Arb. The better; 80
And yet it almost shames me, we shall have
So little to effect. This woman’s warfare
Degrades the very conqueror. To have plucked
A bold and bloody despot from his throne,
And grappled with him, clashing steel with steel,
That were heroic or to win or fall;
But to upraise my sword against this silkworm,
And hear him whine, it may be — —
Bel. Do not deem it:
He has that in him which may make you strife yet;
And were he all you think, his guards are hardy, 90
And headed by the cool, stern Salemenes.
Arb. They’ll not resist.
Bel. Why not? they are soldiers.
Arb. True,
And therefore need a soldier to command them.
Bel. That Salemenes is.
Arb. But not their King.
Besides, he hates the effeminate thing that governs,
For the Queen’s sake, his sister. Mark you not
He keeps aloof from all the revels?
Bel. But
Not from the council — there he is ever constant.
Arb. And ever thwarted: what would you have more
To make a rebel out of? A fool reigning, 100
His blood dishonoured, and himself disdained:
Why, it is his revenge we work for.
Bel. Could
He but be brought to think so: this I doubt of.
Arb. What, if we sound him?
Bel. Yes — if the time served.
Enter Balea.
Bal. Satraps! The king commands your presence at
The feast to-night.
Bel. To hear is to obey.
In the pavilion?
Bal. No; here in the palace.
Arb. How! in the palace? it was not thus ordered.
Bal. It is so ordered now.
Arb. And why?
Bal. I know not.
May I retire?
Arb. Stay.
Bel. (to Arb. aside). Hush! let him go his way. 110
(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 — 120
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
His summer dotage.
Bel. 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.
If he has changed — why, so must we: the attack
Were easy in the isolated bower, 130
Beset with drowsy guards and drunken courtiers;
But in the hall of Nimrod — —
Bel. Is it so?
Methought the haughty soldier feared to mount
A throne too easily — does it disappoint thee
To find there is a slipperier step or two
Than what was counted on?
Arb. When the hour comes,
Thou shall perceive how far I fear or no.
Thou hast seen my life at stake — and gaily played for:
But here is more upon the die — a kingdom.
Bel. I have foretold already — thou wilt win it: 140
Then on, and prosper.
Arb. Now were I a soothsayer,
I would have boded so much to myself.
But be the stars obeyed — I cannot quarrel
With them, nor their interpreter. Who’s here?
Enter Salemenes.
Sal. Satraps!
Bel. My Prince!
Sal. Well met — I sought ye both,
But elsewhere than the palace.
Arb. Wherefore so?
Sal. ‘Tis not the hour.
Arb. The hour! — what hour?
Sal. Of midnight.
Bel. Midnight, my Lord!
Sal. What, are you not invited?
Bel. Oh! yes — we had forgotten.
Sal. Is it usual
Thus to forget a Sovereign’s invitation?
Arb. Why — we but now received it. 150
Sal. Then why here?
Arb. On duty.
Sal. On what duty?
Bel. On the state’s.
We have the privilege to approach the presence;
But found the Monarch absent.
Sal. And I too
Am upon duty.
Arb. May we crave its purport?
Sal. To arrest two traitors. Guards! Within there!
Enter Guards.
Sal. (continuing). Satraps,
Your swords.
Bel. (delivering his). My lord, behold my scimitar.
Arb. (drawing his sword). Take mine.
Sal. (advancing). I will.
Arb. But in your heart the blade —
The hilt quits not this hand.
Sal. (drawing). How! dost thou brave me?
Tis well — this saves a trial, and false mercy. 160
Soldiers, hew down the rebel!
Arb. Soldiers! Aye —
Alone, you dare not.
Sal. Alone! foolish slave —
What is there in thee that a Prince should shrink from
Of open force? We dread thy treason, not
Thy strength: thy tooth is nought without its venom —
The serpent’s, not the lion’s. Cut him down.
Bel. (interposing). Arbaces! Are you mad? Have I not rendered
My sword? Then trust like me our Sovereign’s justice.
Arb. No — I will sooner trust the stars thou prat’st of,
And this slight arm, and die a king at least 170
Of my own breath and body — so far that
None else shall chain them.
Sal. (to the Guards). You hear him and me.
Take him not, — kill.
[The Guards attack Arbaces, who defends himself valiantly and dexterously till they waver.
Sal. Is it even so; and must
I do the hangman’s office? Recreants! see
How you should fell a traitor.
[Salemenes attacks Arbaces.
Enter Sardanapalus and Train.
Sar. 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?
Bel. Sire, your justice.
Sal. Or — 180
Your weakness.
Sar. (raising the sword). How?
Sal. Strike! so the blow’s repeated
Upon yon traitor — whom you spare a moment,
I trust, for torture — I’m content.
Sar. What — him!
Who dares assail Arbaces?
Sal. I!
Sar. Indeed!
Prince, you forget yourself. Upon what warrant?
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
Employed it for the best. Pronounce in person.
Here I am but your slave — a moment past 190
I was your representative.
Sar. Then sheathe
Your swords.
[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?
Bel. The Prince must answer that.
Sal. Truth upon my part, treason upon theirs.
Sar. Treason — Arbaces! treachery and Beleses!
That were an union I will not believe.
Bel. Where is the proof?
Sal. I’ll answer that, if once 200
The king demands your fellow-traitor’s sword.
Arb. (to Sal.). A sword which hath been drawn as oft as thine
Against his foes.
Sal. And now against his brother,
And in an hour or so against himself.
Sar. That is not possible: he dared not; no —
No — I’ll not hear of such things. These vain bickerings
Are spawned in courts by base intrigues, and baser
Hirelings, who live by lies on good men’s lives.
You must have been deceived, my brother.
Sal. First
Let him deliver up his weapon, and 210
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.
Sar. No, retain it;
But use it with more moderation.
Sal. Sire, 200
I used it for your honour, and restore it
Because I cannot keep it with my own.
Bestow it on Arbaces.
Sar. So I should:
He never asked it.
Sal. Doubt not, he will have it,
Without that hollow semblance of respect.
Bel. I know not what hath prejudiced the Prince
So strongly ‘gainst two subjects, than whom none
Have been more zealous for Assyria’s weal.
Sal. Peace, factious priest, and faithless soldier! thou
Unit’st in thy own person the worst vices 230
Of the most dangerous orders of mankind.
Keep thy smooth words and juggling homilies
For those who know thee not. Thy fellow’s sin
Is, at the least, a bold one, and not tempered
By the tricks taught thee in Chaldea.
Bel. Hear him,
My liege — the son of Belus! he blasphemes
The worship of the land, which bows the knee
Before your fathers.
Sar. Oh! for that I pray you
Let him have absolution. I dispense with
The worship of dead men; feeling that I 240
Am mortal, and believing that the race
From whence I sprung are — what I see them — ashes.
Bel. King! Do not deem so: they are with the stars,
And — —
Sar. You shall join them ere they will rise,
If you preach farther — Why, this is rank treason.
Sal. My lord!
Sar. To school me in the worship of
Assyria’s idols! Let him be released —
Give him his sword.
Sal. My Lord, and King, and Brother,
I pray ye pause.
Sar. Yes, and be sermonised,
And dinned, and deafened with dead men and Baal, 250
And all Chaldea’s starry mysteries.
Bel. Monarch! respect them.
Sar. Oh! for that — I love them;
I love to watch them in the deep blue vault,
And to compare them with my Myrrha’s eyes;
I love to see their rays redoubled in
The tremulous silver of Euphrates’ wave,
As the light breeze of midnight crisps the broad
And rolling water, sighing through the sedges
Which fringe his banks: but whether they may be
Gods, as some say, or the abodes of Gods, 260
As others hold, or simply lamps of night,
Worlds — or the lights of Worlds — I know nor care not.
There’s something sweet in my uncertainty
I would not change for your Chaldean lore;
Besides, I know of these all clay can know
Of aught above it, or below it — nothing.
I see their brilliancy and feel their beauty —
When they shine on my grave I shall know neither.
Bel. For neither, Sire, say better.
Sar. I will wait,
If it so please you, Pontiff, for that knowl
edge. 270
In the mean time receive your sword, and know
That I prefer your service militant
Unto your ministry — not loving either.
Sal. (aside). His lusts have made him mad. Then must I save him,
Spite of himself.
Sar. Please you to hear me, Satraps!
And chiefly thou, my priest, because I doubt thee
More than the soldier; and would doubt thee all
Wert thou not half a warrior: let us part
In peace — I’ll not say pardon — which must be
Earned by the guilty; this I’ll not pronounce ye, 280
Although upon this breath of mine depends
Your own; and, deadlier for ye, on my fears.
But fear not — for that I am soft, not fearful —
And so live on. Were I the thing some think me,
Your heads would now be dripping the last drops
Of their attainted gore from the high gates
Of this our palace, into the dry dust,
Their only portion of the coveted kingdom
They would be crowned to reign o’er — let that pass.
As I have said, I will not deem ye guilty, 290
Nor doom ye guiltless. Albeit better men
Than ye or I stand ready to arraign you;
And should I leave your fate to sterner judges,
And proofs of all kinds, I might sacrifice
Two men, who, whatsoe’er they now are, were
Once honest. Ye are free, sirs.
Arb. Sire, this clemency — —
Bel. (interrupting him). Is worthy of yourself; and, although innocent,
We thank — —
Sar. Priest! keep your thanksgivings for Belus;
His offspring needs none.
Bel. But being innocent — —
Sar. Be silent. — Guilt is loud. If ye are loyal, 300
Ye are injured men, and should be sad, not grateful.
Bel. So we should be, were justice always done
By earthly power omnipotent; but Innocence
Must oft receive her right as a mere favour.
Sar. That’s a good sentence for a homily,
Though not for this occasion. Prithee keep it
To plead thy Sovereign’s cause before his people.
Bel. I trust there is no cause.
Sar. No cause, perhaps;
But many causers: — if ye meet with such
In the exercise of your inquisitive function 310
On earth, or should you read of it in heaven
In some mysterious twinkle of the stars,
Which are your chronicles, I pray you note,
That there are worse things betwixt earth and heaven
Than him who ruleth many and slays none;
And, hating not himself, yet loves his fellows
Enough to spare even those who would not spare him
Were they once masters — but that’s doubtful. Satraps!