MYRRHA | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
455 | MYRRHA |
SARDANAPALUS | |
MYRRHA | |
At least, a woman’s. | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
A thousand, and a thousand. | |
MYRRHA | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
MYRRHA | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
460 | Hear, Myrrha; Salemenes has declared – |
Or why or how he hath divined it, Belus, | |
Who founded our great realm, knows more than I – | |
But Salemenes hath declared my throne | |
In peril. | |
MYRRHA | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
465 | Thou whom he spurn’d so harshly, and now dared |
Drive from our presence with his savage jeers, | |
And made thee weep and blush? | |
MYRRHA | |
More frequently, and he did well to call me | |
Back to my duty. But thou spakest of peril – | |
470 | Peril to thee — |
SARDANAPALUS | |
From Medes — and discontented troops and nations. | |
I know not what – a labyrinth of things – | |
A maze of mutter’d threats and mysteries: | |
Thou know’st the man – it is his usual custom. | |
475 | But he is honest. Come, we’ll think no more on ’t - |
But of the midnight festival. | |
MYRRHA | |
To think of aught save festivals. Thou hast not | |
Spurn’d his sage cautions? | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
MYRRHA | |
480 | A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom? |
SARDANAPALUS | |
MYRRHA | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
Than either the brief life or the wide realm, | |
Which it may be are menaced; – yet I blench not. | |
485 | MYRRHA |
For he who loves another loves himself, | |
Even for that other’s sake. This is too rash: | |
Kingdoms and lives are not to be so lost. | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
490 | Assume to win them? |
MYRRHA | |
To try so much? When he who is their ruler | |
Forgets himself, will they remember him? | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
MYRRHA | |
Too often on me not to make those frowns | |
495 | Bitterer to bear than any punishment |
Which they may augur. – King, I am your subject! | |
Master, I am your slave! Man, I have loved you! – | |
Loved you, I know not by what fatal weakness, | |
Although a Greek, and born a foe to monarchs – | |
500 | A slave, and hating fetters – an Ionian, |
And, therefore, when I love a stranger, more | |
Degraded by that passion than by chains! | |
Still I have loved you. If that love were strong | |
Enough to overcome all former nature, | |
505 | Shall it not claim the privilege to save you? |
SARDANAPALUS | |
And what I seek of thee is love – not safety. | |
MYRRHA | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
MYRRHA | |
510 | Of human life must spring from woman’s breast, |
Your first small words are taught you from her lips, | |
Your first tears quench’d by her, and your last sighs | |
Too often breathed out in a woman’s hearing, | |
When men have shrunk from the ignoble care | |
515 | Of watching the last hour of him who led them. |
SARDANAPALUS | |
The very chorus of the tragic song | |
I have heard thee talk of as the favourite pastime | |
Of thy far father-land. Nay, weep not – calm thee. | |
520 | MYRRHA |
About my fathers or their land. | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
Thou | |
MYRRHA | |
Will overflow in words unconsciously; | |
But when another speaks of Greece, it wounds me. | |
525 | SARDANAPALUS |
MYRRHA | |
Thyself alone, but these vast realms, from all | |
The rage of the worst war – the war of brethren. | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
530 | I live in peace and pleasure: what can man |
Do more? | |
MYRRHA | |
There needs too oft the show of war to keep | |
The substance of sweet peace; and, for a king, | |
’Tis sometimes better to be fear’d than loved. | |
535 | SARDANAPALUS |
MYRRHA | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
MYRRHA | |
Which means that men are kept in awe and law, | |
Yet not oppress’d – at least they must not think so; | |
540 | Or if they think so, deem it necessary, |
To ward off worse oppression, their own passions. | |
A king of feasts, and flowers, and wine, and revel, | |
And love, and mirth, was never king of glory. | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
MYRRHA | |
545 | SARDANAPALUS |
’Tis for some small addition to the temple. | |
MYRRHA | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
But what wouldst have? the empire | |
550 | I cannot go on multiplying empires. |
MYRRHA | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
Come, Myrrha, let us go on to the Euphrates: | |
The hour invites, the galley is prepared, | |
And the pavilion, deck’d for our return, | |
555 | In fit adornment for the evening banquet, |
Shall blaze with beauty and with light, until | |
It seems unto the stars which are above us | |
Itself an opposite star; and we will sit | |
Crown’d with fresh flowers like — | |
MYRRHA | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
560 | The shepherd king of patriarchal times, |
Who knew no brighter gems than summer wreaths, | |
And none but tearless triumphs. Let us on. | |
[ | |
PANIA | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
Longer than he can love. How my soul hates | |
565 | This language, which makes life itself a lie, |
Flattering dust with eternity. Well, Pania! | |
Be brief. | |
PANIA | |
Reiterate his prayer unto the king, | |
That for this day, at least, he will not quit | |
570 | The palace: when the general returns, |
He will adduce such reasons as will warrant | |
His daring, and perhaps obtain the pardon | |
Of his presumption. | |
SARDANAPALUS | |
Already captive? can I not even breathe | |
575 | The breath of heaven? Tell prince Salemenes, |
Were all Assyria raging round the walls |