The Works of Lord Byron Volume V Part 7

_Sar._ Suspect!--that's a spy's office. Oh! we lose Ten thousand precious moments in vain words, And vainer fears. Within there!--ye slaves, deck The Hall of Nimrod for the evening revel; If I must make a prison of our palace, At least we'll wear our fetters jocundly; If the Euphrates be forbid us, and The summer-dwelling on its beauteous border, Here we are still unmenaced. Ho! within there! 640 [_Exit_ SARDANAPALUS.

_Myr._ (_solus_).

Why do I love this man? My country's daughters Love none but heroes. But I have no country!

The slave hath lost all save her bonds. I love him; And that's the heaviest link of the long chain-- To love whom we esteem not. Be it so: The hour is coming when he'll need all love, And find none. To fall from him now were baser Than to have stabbed him on his throne when highest Would have been n.o.ble in my country's creed: I was not made for either. Could I save him, 650 I should not love _him_ better, but myself; And I have need of the last, for I have fallen In my own thoughts, by loving this soft stranger: And yet, methinks, I love him more, perceiving That he is hated of his own barbarians, The natural foes of all the blood of Greece.

Could I but wake a single thought like those Which even the Phrygians felt when battling long 'Twixt Ilion and the sea, within his heart, He would tread down the barbarous crowds, and triumph. 660 He loves me, and I love him; the slave loves Her master, and would free him from his vices.

If not, I have a means of freedom still, And if I cannot teach him how to reign, May show him how alone a King can leave His throne. I must not lose him from my sight. [_Exit_.

ACT II.

SCENE I.--_The Portal of the same Hall of the Palace_.

_Beleses_ (_solus_).

The Sun goes down: methinks he sets more slowly, Taking his last look of a.s.syria's Empire.

How red he glares amongst those deepening clouds, Like the blood he predicts. If not in vain, Thou Sun that sinkest, and ye stars which rise, I have out.w.a.tched ye, reading ray by ray The edicts of your orbs, which make Time tremble[j]

For what he brings the nations, 'tis the furthest Hour of a.s.syria's years. And yet how calm!

An earthquake should announce so great a fall-- 10 A summer's sun discloses it. Yon disk, To the star-read Chaldean, bears upon Its everlasting page the end of what Seemed everlasting; but oh! thou true Sun!

The burning oracle of all that live, As fountain of all life, and symbol of Him who bestows it, wherefore dost thou limit Thy lore unto calamity? Why not Unfold the rise of days more worthy thine All-glorious burst from ocean? why not dart 20 A beam of hope athwart the future years, As of wrath to its days? Hear me! oh, hear me!

I am thy worshipper, thy priest, thy servant-- I have gazed on thee at thy rise and fall, And bowed my head beneath thy mid-day beams, When my eye dared not meet thee. I have watched For thee, and after thee, and prayed to thee, And sacrificed to thee, and read, and feared thee, And asked of thee, and thou hast answered--but Only to thus much: while I speak, he sinks-- 30 Is gone--and leaves his beauty, not his knowledge, To the delighted West, which revels in Its hues of dying glory. Yet what is Death, so it be but glorious? 'Tis a sunset; And mortals may be happy to resemble The G.o.ds but in decay.

_Enter_ ARBACES _by an inner door_.

_Arb._ Beleses, why So wrapt in thy devotions? Dost thou stand Gazing to trace thy disappearing G.o.d Into some realm of undiscovered day?

Our business is with night--'tis come.

_Bel._ But not 40 Gone.

_Arb._ Let it roll on--we are ready.

_Bel._ Yes.

Would it were over!

_Arb._ Does the prophet doubt, To whom the very stars shine Victory?

_Bel._ I do not doubt of Victory--but the Victor.

_Arb._ Well, let thy science settle that. Meantime 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 G.o.ds 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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,[15]

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.