by Lord Byron
She will recover. Pray, keep back. — [Aside.] I must
Avail myself of this sole moment to 420
Bear her to where her children are embarked,
I’ the royal galley on the river.
[Salemenes bears her off.
Sar. (solus). This, too —
And this too must I suffer — I, who never
Inflicted purposely on human hearts
A voluntary pang! But that is false —
She loved me, and I loved her. — Fatal passion!
Why dost thou not expire at once in hearts
Which thou hast lighted up at once? Zarina!
I must pay dearly for the desolation
Now brought upon thee. Had I never loved 430
But thee, I should have been an unopposed
Monarch of honouring nations. To what gulfs
A single deviation from the track
Of human duties leads even those who claim
The homage of mankind as their born due,
And find it, till they forfeit it themselves!
Enter Myrrha.
Sar. You here! Who called you?
Myr. No one — but I heard
Far off a voice of wail and lamentation,
And thought — —
Sar. It forms no portion of your duties
To enter here till sought for.
Myr. Though I might, 440
Perhaps, recall 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
Uncalled for: — I retire.
Sar. Yet stay — being here.
I pray you pardon me: events have soured me
Till I wax peevish — heed it not: I shall
Soon be myself again.
Myr. I wait with patience,
What I shall see with pleasure.
Sar. Scarce a moment 450
Before your entrance in this hall, Zarina,
Queen of Assyria, departed hence.
Myr. Ah!
Sar. Wherefore do you start?
Myr. Did I do so?
Sar. ‘Twas well you entered by another portal,
Else you had met. That pang at least is spared her!
Myr. I know to feel for her.
Sar. That is too much,
And beyond nature — ’tis nor mutual
Nor possible. You cannot pity her,
Nor she aught but — —
Myr. Despise the favourite slave?
Not more than I have ever scorned myself. 460
Sar. Scorned! what, to be the envy of your sex,
And lord it o’er the heart of the World’s lord?
Myr. Were you the lord of twice ten thousand worlds —
As you are like to lose the one you swayed —
I did abase myself as much in being
Your paramour, as though you were a peasant —
Nay, more, if that the peasant were a Greek.
Sar. You talk it well — —
Myr. And truly.
Sar. In the hour
Of man’s adversity all things grow daring
Against the falling; but as I am not 470
Quite fall’n, nor now disposed to bear reproaches,
Perhaps because I merit them too often,
Let us then part while peace is still between us.
Myr. Part!
Sar. Have not all past human beings parted,
And must not all the present one day part?
Myr. Why?
Sar. For your safety, which I will have looked to,
With a strong escort to your native land;
And such gifts, as, if you had not been all
A Queen, shall make your dowry worth a kingdom.
Myr. I pray you talk not thus.
Sar. The Queen is gone: 480
You need not shame to follow. I would fall
Alone — I seek no partners but in pleasure.
Myr. And I no pleasure but in parting not.
You shall not force me from you.
Sar. Think well of it —
It soon may be too late.
Myr. So let it be;
For then you cannot separate me from you.
Sar. And will not; but I thought you wished it.
Myr. I!
Sar. You spoke of your abasement.
Myr. And I feel it
Deeply — more deeply than all things but love.
Sar. Then fly from it.
Myr.’Twill not recall the past — 490
‘Twill not restore my honour, nor my heart.
No — here I stand or fall. If that you conquer,
I live to joy in your great triumph: should
Your lot be different, I’ll not weep, but share it.
You did not doubt me a few hours ago.
Sar. Your courage never — nor your love till now;
And none could make me doubt it save yourself.
Those words — —
Myr. Were words. I pray you, let the proofs
Be in the past acts you were pleased to praise
This very night, and in my further bearing, 500
Beside, wherever you are borne by fate.
Sar. I am content: and, trusting in my cause,
Think we may yet be victors and return
To peace — the only victory I covet.
To me war is no glory — conquest no
Renown. To be forced thus to uphold my right
Sits heavier on my heart than all the wrongs
These men would bow me down with. Never, never
Can I forget this night, even should I live
To add it to the memory of others. 510
I thought to have made mine inoffensive rule
An era of sweet peace ‘midst bloody annals,
A green spot amidst desert centuries,
On which the Future would turn back and smile,
And cultivate, or sigh when it could not
Recall Sardanapalus’ golden reign.
I thought to have made my realm a paradise,
And every moon an epoch of new pleasures.
I took the rabble’s shouts for love — the breath
Of friends for truth — the lips of woman for 520
My only guerdon — so they are, my Myrrha: [He kisses her.
Kiss me. Now let them take my realm and life!
They shall have both, but never thee!
Myr. No, never!
Man may despoil his brother man of all
That’s great or glittering — kingdoms fall, hosts yield,
Friends fail — slaves fly — and all betray — and, more
Than all, the most indebted — but a heart
That loves without self-love! ‘Tis here — now prove it.
Enter Salemenes.
Sal. I sought you — How! she here again?
Sar. Return not
Now to reproof: methinks your aspect speaks 530
Of higher matter than a woman’s presence.
Sal. The only woman whom it much imports me
At such a moment now is safe in absence —
The Queen’s embarked.
Sar. And well? say that much.
Sal. Yes.
Her transient weakness has passed o’er; at least,
It settled into tearless silence: her
Pale face and glittering eye, after a glance
Upon her sleeping children, were still fixed
Upon the palace towers as the swift galley
Stole down the hurrying stream beneath the starlight; 540
But she said nothing.
Sar. Would I felt no more
Than she has said!
Your feelings cannot cancel a sole pang:
To change them, my advices bring sure tidings
That the rebellious Medes and Chaldees, marshalled
By their two leaders, are already up
In arms again; and, serrying their ranks,
Prepare to attack: they have apparently
Been joined by other Satraps.
Sar. What! more rebels?
Let us be first, then.
Sal. That were hardly prudent 550
Now, though it was our first intention. If
By noon to-morrow we are joined by those
I’ve sent for by sure messengers, we shall be
In strength enough to venture an attack,
Aye, and pursuit too; but, till then, my voice
Is to await the onset.
Sar. I detest
That waiting; though it seems so safe to fight
Behind high walls, and hurl down foes into
Deep fosses, or behold them sprawl on spikes
Strewed to receive them, still I like it not — 560
My soul seems lukewarm; but when I set on them,
Though they were piled on mountains, I would have
A pluck at them, or perish in hot blood! —
Let me then charge.
Sal. You talk like a young soldier.
Sar. I am no soldier, but a man: speak not
Of soldiership, I loathe the word, and those
Who pride themselves upon it; but direct me
Where I may pour upon them.
Sal. You must spare
To expose your life too hastily; ‘tis not
Like mine or any other subject’s breath: 570
The whole war turns upon it — with it; this
Alone creates it, kindles, and may quench it —
Prolong it — end it.
Sar. Then let us end both!
‘Twere better thus, perhaps, than prolong either;
I’m sick of one, perchance of both.
[A trumpet sounds without.
Sal. Hark!
Sar. Let us
Reply, not listen.
Sal. And your wound!
Sar.’Tis bound —
‘Tis healed — I had forgotten it. Away!
A leech’s lancet would have scratched me deeper;
The slave that gave it might be well ashamed
To have struck so weakly.
Sal. Now, may none this hour 580
Strike with a better aim!
Sar. Aye, if we conquer;
But if not, they will only leave to me
A task they might have spared their king. Upon them!
[Trumpet sounds again.
Sal. I am with you.
Sar. Ho, my arms! again, my arms!
[Exeunt.
ACT V
Scene I.-The same Hall in the Palace.
Myrrha and Balea.
Myr. (at a window)
The day at last has broken. What a night
Hath ushered it! How beautiful in heaven!
Though varied with a transitory storm,
More beautiful in that variety!
How hideous upon earth! where Peace and Hope,
And Love and Revel, in an hour were trampled
By human passions to a human chaos,
Not yet resolved to separate elements —
‘Tis warring still! And can the sun so rise,
So bright, so rolling back the clouds into 10
Vapours more lovely than the unclouded sky,
With golden pinnacles, and snowy mountains,
And billows purpler than the Ocean’s, making
In heaven a glorious mockery of the earth,
So like we almost deem it permanent;
So fleeting, we can scarcely call it aught
Beyond a vision, ‘tis so transiently
Scattered along the eternal vault: and yet
It dwells upon the soul, and soothes the soul,
And blends itself into the soul, until 20
Sunrise and sunset form the haunted epoch
Of Sorrow and of Love; which they who mark not,
Know not the realms where those twin genii
(Who chasten and who purify our hearts,
So that we would not change their sweet rebukes
For all the boisterous joys that ever shook
The air with clamour) build the palaces
Where their fond votaries repose and breathe
Briefly; — but in that brief cool calm inhale
Enough of heaven to enable them to bear 30
The rest of common, heavy, human hours,
And dream them through in placid sufferance,
Though seemingly employed like all the rest
Of toiling breathers in allotted tasks
Of pain or pleasure, two names for one feeling,
Which our internal, restless agony
Would vary in the sound, although the sense
Escapes our highest efforts to be happy.
Bal. You muse right calmly: and can you so watch
The sunrise which may be our last?
Myr. It is 40
Therefore that I so watch it, and reproach
Those eyes, which never may behold it more,
For having looked upon it oft, too oft,
Without the reverence and the rapture due
To that which keeps all earth from being as fragile
As I am in this form. Come, look upon it,
The Chaldee’s God, which, when I gaze upon,
I grow almost a convert to your Baal.
Bal. As now he reigns in heaven, so once on earth
He swayed.
Myr. He sways it now far more, then; never 50
Had earthly monarch half the power and glory
Which centres in a single ray of his.
Bal. Surely he is a God!
Myr. So we Greeks deem too;
And yet I sometimes think that gorgeous orb
Must rather be the abode of Gods than one
Of the immortal sovereigns. Now he breaks
Through all the clouds, and fills my eyes with light
That shuts the world out. I can look no more.
Bal. Hark! heard you not a sound?
Myr. No, ‘twas mere fancy;
They battle it beyond the wall, and not 60
As in late midnight conflict in the very
Chambers: the palace has become a fortress
Since that insidious hour; and here, within
The very centre, girded by vast courts
And regal halls of pyramid proportions,
Which must be carried one by one before
They penetrate to where they then arrived,
We are as much shut in even from the sound
Of peril as from glory.
Bal. But they reached
Thus far before.
Myr. Yes, by surprise, and were 70
Beat back by valour: now at once we have
Courage and vigilance to guard us.
Bal. May they
Prosper!
Myr. That is the prayer of many, and
The dread of more: it is an anxious hour;
I strive to keep it from my thoughts. Alas!
How vainly!
Bal. It is said the King’s demeanour
In the late action scarcely more appalled
The rebels than astonished his true subjects.
Myr. ‘Tis easy to astonish or appal
The vulgar mass which moulds a horde of slaves; 80
But he did bravely.
Bal. Slew he not Beleses?
I heard the soldiers say he struck him down.
Myr. The wretch was overthrown, but rescued to
Triumph, perhaps, o’er one who va
nquished him
In fight, as he had spared him in his peril;
And by that heedless pity risked a crown.
Bal. Hark!
Myr. You are right; some steps approach, but slowly.
Enter Soldiers, bearing in Salemenes wounded, with a broken javelin in his side: they seat him upon one of the couches which furnish the Apartment.
Myr. Oh, Jove!
Bal. Then all is over.
Sal. That is false.
Hew down the slave who says so, if a soldier.
Myr. Spare him — he’s none: a mere court butterfly, 90
That flutter in the pageant of a monarch.
Sal. Let him live on, then.
Myr. So wilt thou, I trust.
Sal. I fain would live this hour out, and the event,
But doubt it. Wherefore did ye bear me here?
Sol. By the King’s order. When the javelin struck you,
You fell and fainted: ‘twas his strict command
To bear you to this hall.
Sal.’Twas not ill done:
For seeming slain in that cold dizzy trance,
The sight might shake our soldiers — but — ’tis vain,
I feel it ebbing!
Myr. Let me see the wound; 100
I am not quite skilless: in my native land
‘Tis part of our instruction. War being constant,
We are nerved to look on such things.
Sol. Best extract
The javelin.
Myr. Hold! no, no, it cannot be.
Sal. I am sped, then!
Myr. With the blood that fast must follow
The extracted weapon, I do fear thy life.
Sal. And I not death. Where was the King when you
Conveyed me from the spot where I was stricken?
Sol. Upon the same ground, and encouraging
With voice and gesture the dispirited troops 110
Who had seen you fall, and faltered back.
Sal. Whom heard ye
Named next to the command?
Sol. I did not hear.
Sal. Fly, then, and tell him, ‘twas my last request
That Zames take my post until the junction,
So hoped for, yet delayed, of Ofratanes,
Satrap of Susa. Leave me here: our troops
Are not so numerous as to spare your absence.
Sol. But Prince — —
Sal. Hence, I say! Here’s a courtier and
A woman, the best chamber company.
As you would not permit me to expire 120
Upon the field, I’ll have no idle soldiers
About my sick couch. Hence! and do my bidding!
[Exeunt the Soldiers.
Myr. Gallant and glorious Spirit! must the earth
So soon resign thee?
Sal. Gentle Myrrha, ‘tis
The end I would have chosen, had I saved
The monarch or the monarchy by this;
As ‘tis, I have not outlived them.
Myr. You wax paler.