Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series

Home > Other > Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series > Page 126
Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series Page 126

by Lord Byron


  We were in an existence all apart

  From heaven or earth — — And rather let me see

  Death all than such a being!

  Myr. And the end? 130

  Sar. At last I sate, marble, as they, when rose

  The Hunter and the Crone; and smiling on me —

  Yes, the enlarged but noble aspect of

  The Hunter smiled upon me — I should say,

  His lips, for his eyes moved not — and the woman’s

  Thin lips relaxed to something like a smile.

  Both rose, and the crowned figures on each hand

  Rose also, as if aping their chief shades —

  Mere mimics even in death — but I sate still:

  A desperate courage crept through every limb, 140

  And at the last I feared them not, but laughed

  Full in their phantom faces. But then — then

  The Hunter laid his hand on mine: I took it,

  And grasped it — but it melted from my own;

  While he too vanished, and left nothing but

  The memory of a hero, for he looked so.

  Myr. And was: the ancestor of heroes, too,

  And thine no less.

  Sar. Aye, Myrrha, but the woman,

  The female who remained, she flew upon me,

  And burnt my lips up with her noisome kisses; 150

  And, flinging down the goblets on each hand,

  Methought their poisons flowed around us, till

  Each formed a hideous river. Still she clung;

  The other phantoms, like a row of statues,

  Stood dull as in our temples, but she still

  Embraced me, while I shrunk from her, as if,

  In lieu of her remote descendant, I

  Had been the son who slew her for her incest.

  Then — then — a chaos of all loathsome things

  Thronged thick and shapeless: I was dead, yet feeling — 160

  Buried, and raised again — consumed by worms,

  Purged by the flames, and withered in the air!

  I can fix nothing further of my thoughts,

  Save that I longed for thee, and sought for thee,

  In all these agonies, — and woke and found thee.

  Myr. So shalt thou 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 by toil, yet over-wrought by toil — 170

  Such as might try the sternest.

  Sar. I am better.

  Now that I see thee once more, what was seen

  Seems nothing.

  Enter Salemenes.

  Sal. Is the king so soon awake?

  Sar. Yes, brother, and I would I had not slept;

  For all the predecessors of our line

  Rose up, methought, to drag me down to them.

  My father was amongst them, too; but he,

  I know not why, kept from me, leaving me

  Between the hunter-founder of our race,

  And her, the homicide and husband-killer, 180

  Whom you call glorious.

  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 rebel crew, who still

  Keep gathering head, repulsed, but not quite quelled.

  Sar. How wears the night?

  Sal. There yet remain some hours

  Of darkness: use them for your further rest.

  Sar. No, not to-night, if ‘tis not gone: methought

  I passed hours in that vision.

  Myr. Scarcely one;

  I watched by you: it was a heavy hour, 190

  But an hour only.

  Sar. Let us then hold council;

  To-morrow we set forth.

  Sal. But ere that time,

  I had a grace to seek.

  Sar.’Tis granted.

  Sal. Hear it

  Ere you reply too readily; and ‘tis

  For your ear only.

  Myr. Prince, I take my leave.

  [Exit Myrrha.

  Sal. That slave deserves her freedom.

  Sar. Freedom only!

  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.

  Sar. How! of the Queen?

  Sal. Even so. I judged it fitting for their safety, 200

  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 — —

  Sar. I perish — as is probable: well thought —

  Let them set forth with a sure escort.

  Sal. That

  Is all provided, and the galley ready

  To drop down the Euphrates; but ere they

  Depart, will you not see — —

  Sar. My sons? It may 210

  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.

  Sar. 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, enough of women,

  Since you have studied them so steadily, 220

  That what they ask in aught that touches on

  The heart, is dearer to their feelings or

  Their fancy, than the whole external world.

  I think as you do of my sister’s wish;

  But ‘twas her wish — she is my sister — you

  Her husband — will you grant it?

  Sar.’Twill be useless:

  But let her come.

  Sal. I go. [Exit Salemenes.

  Sar. 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, 230

  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.

  Zar. I pray thee, brother, leave me.

  Sal. Since you ask it.

  [Exit Salemenes.

  Zar. Alone with him! How many a year has passed,

  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, 240

  Nor look — yet he was soft of voice and aspect,

  Indifferent, not austere. My Lord!

  Sar. Zarina!

  Zar. No, not Zarina — do not say Zarina.

  That tone — That word — annihilate long years,

  And things which make them longer.

  Sar.’Tis too late

  To think of these past dreams. Let’s not reproach —

  That is, reproach me not — for the last time — —

  Zar. And first, I ne’er reproached you.

  Sar.’Tis most true;

  And that reproof comes heavier on my heart

  Than — — But our hear
ts are not in our own power. 250

  Zar. Nor hands; but I gave both.

  Sar. Your brother said

  It was your will to see me, ere you went

  From Nineveh with — — (He hesitates.)

  Zar. Our children: it is true.

  I wish to thank you that you have not divided

  My heart from all that’s left it now to love —

  Those who are yours and mine, who look like you,

  And look upon me as you looked upon me

  Once — — but they have not changed.

  Sar. Nor ever will.

  I fain would have them dutiful.

  Zar. I cherish

  Those infants, not alone from the blind love 260

  Of a fond mother, but as a fond woman.

  They are now the only tie between us.

  Sar. Deem not

  I have not done you justice: rather make them

  Resemble your own line than their own Sire.

  I trust them with you — to you: fit them for

  A throne, or, if that be denied — — You have heard

  Of this night’s tumults?

  Zar. I had half forgotten,

  And could have welcomed any grief save yours,

  Which gave me to behold your face again.

  Sar. The throne — I say it not in fear — but ‘tis 270

  In peril: they perhaps may never mount it:

  But let them not for this lose sight of it.

  I will dare all things to bequeath it them;

  But if I fail, then they must win it back

  Bravely — and, won, wear it wisely, not as I

  Have wasted down my royalty.

  Zar. They ne’er

  Shall know from me of aught but what may honour

  Their father’s memory.

  Sar. Rather let them hear

  The truth from you than from a trampling world.

  If they be in adversity, they’ll learn 280

  Too soon the scorn of crowds for crownless Princes,

  And find that all their father’s sins are theirs.

  My boys! — I could have borne it were I childless.

  Zar. Oh! do not say so — do not poison all

  My peace left, by unwishing that thou wert

  A father. If thou conquerest, they shall reign,

  And honour him who saved the realm for them,

  So little cared for as his own; and if — —

  Sar. ‘Tis lost, all Earth will cry out, “thank your father!”

  And they will swell the echo with a curse. 290

  Zar. 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.

  Sar. Our annals draw perchance unto their close;

  But at the least, whate’er the past, their end

  Shall be like their beginning — memorable.

  Zar. Yet, be not rash — be careful of your life,

  Live but for those who love.

  Sar. And who are they? 300

  A slave, who loves from passion — I’ll not say

  Ambition — she has seen thrones shake, and loves;

  A few friends who have revelled till we are

  As one, for they are nothing if I fall;

  A brother I have injured — children whom

  I have neglected, and a spouse — —

  Zar. Who loves.

  Sar. And pardons?

  Zar. I have never thought of this,

  And cannot pardon till I have condemned.

  Sar. My wife!

  Zar. Now blessings on thee for that word!

  I never thought to hear it more — from thee. 310

  Sar. Oh! thou wilt hear it from my subjects. Yes —

  These slaves whom I have nurtured, pampered, 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 jubilee;

  While the few upon whom I have no claim

  Are faithful! This is true, yet monstrous.

  Zar.’Tis

  Perhaps too natural; for benefits

  Turn poison in bad minds.

  Sar. And good ones make 320

  Good out of evil. Happier than the bee,

  Which hives not but from wholesome flowers.

  Zar. Then reap

  The honey, nor inquire whence ‘tis derived.

  Be satisfied — you are not all abandoned.

  Sar. My life insures me that. How long, bethink you,

  Were not I yet a king, should I be mortal;

  That is, where mortals are, not where they must be?

  Zar. I know not. But yet live for my — that is,

  Your children’s sake!

  Sar. My gentle, wronged Zarina!

  I am the very slave of Circumstance 330

  And Impulse — borne away with every breath!

  Misplaced upon the throne — misplaced in life.

  I know not what I could have been, but feel

  I am not what I should be — let it end.

  But take this with thee: if I was not formed

  To prize a love like thine, a mind like thine,

  Nor dote even on thy beauty — as I’ve doted

  On lesser charms, for no cause save that such

  Devotion was a duty, and I hated

  All that looked like a chain for me or others 340

  (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 350

  The sullen earth.

  Zar. Oh! if thou hast at length

  Discovered that my love is worth esteem,

  I ask no more — but let us hence together,

  And I — 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 blessed

  Than I have ever been, or thou, with all

  An empire to indulge thee.

  Enter Salemenes.

  Sal. I must part ye —

  The moments, which must not be lost, are passing.

  Zar. Inhuman brother! wilt thou thus weigh out 360

  Instants so high and blest?

  Sal. Blest!

  Zar. He hath been

  So gentle with me, that I cannot think

  Of quitting.

  Sal. So — this feminine farewell

  Ends as such partings end, in no departure.

  I thought as much, and yielded against all

  My better bodings. But it must not be.

  Zar. Not be?

  Sal. Remain, and perish — —

  Zar. With my husband — —

  Sal. And children.

  Zar. Alas!

  Sal. Hear me, sister, like

  My sister: — all’s prepared to make your safety

  Certain, and of the boys too, our last hopes; 370

  ‘Tis not a single question of mere feeling,

  Though that were much — but ‘tis a point of state:

  The rebels would do more to seize upon

  The offspring of their sovereign, and so cru
sh — —

  Zar. Ah! do not name it.

  Sal. Well, then, mark me: when

  They are safe beyond the Median’s grasp, the rebels

  Have missed their chief aim — the extinction of

  The line of Nimrod. Though the present King

  Fall, his sons live — for victory and vengeance.

  Zar. But could not I remain, alone?

  Sal. What! leave 380

  Your children, with two parents and yet orphans —

  In a strange land — so young, so distant?

  Zar. No —

  My heart will break.

  Sal. Now you know all — decide.

  Sar. 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.

  Sar. Go, then. If e’er we meet again, perhaps 390

  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 Assyria — than — —

  But I grow womanish again, and must not;

  I must learn sternness now. My sins have all

  Been of the softer order — — hide thy tears —

  I do not bid thee not to shed them — ’twere

  Easier to stop Euphrates at its source 400

  Than one tear of a true and tender heart —

  But let me not behold them; they unman me

  Here when I had remanned myself. My brother,

  Lead her away.

  Zar. Oh, God! I never shall

  Behold him more!

  Sal. (striving to conduct her).

  Nay, sister, I must be obeyed.

  Zar. 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.

  Zar. That’s false! I knew he lived,

  And lived upon his image — let me go! 410

  Sal. (conducting her off the stage).

  Nay, then, I must use some fraternal force,

  Which you will pardon.

  Zar. Never. Help me! Oh!

  Sardanapalus, wilt thou thus behold me

  Torn from thee?

  Sal. Nay — then all is lost again,

  If that this moment is not gained.

  Zar. My brain turns —

  My eyes fail — where is he? [She faints.

  Sar. (advancing). No — set her down;

  She’s dead — and you have slain her.

  Sal.’Tis the mere

  Faintness of o’erwrought passion: in the air

 

‹ Prev