Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series

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!