Julian The Apostate | ||
189
Sapor. Meranes, Nohordates, Generals of his Army. Officers, Satraps, &c.
SAPOR.
Hath Julian 'scaped? Nay, then this sea of slaughter
Is a vain deluge. Dastards! I had set
My heart on caging this vile Roman braggart,
Like a wild panther. I would have shewn the world
How wild beasts may be tamed.
Curse on ye, Dastards! Did I not command
All sacrifice, all lavish waste of life,
Dead or alive to take him?
MERANES.
Gracious Sov'reign,
Deeds have been done this day that put to shame
The Greek romance of Hercules
NOHORDATES.
Eyes ne'er saw
So deathful an encounter as ensued
190
In horse and man—they swept the dusty plain
Like the prodigious Centaurs. In the midst
These eyes saw Julian fall.
SAPOR.
Where is his head?
If ye have killed him, where is his head? I tell ye
I would have had it stuffed with precious spices
And stuck upon a pole within my chamber,
And solaced me with daily contemplation—
Ay, laughed to see death incorruptible!
Thus would I make mine enemy immortal!
(A wounded Officer brought in.
OFFICER.
Great Lord of Earth! here 's one who hath escaped
I' th' heat of battle, from the enemy's ranks;
His tale may chance direct us.
SAPOR.
What is he?
OFFICER.
A leader of a gallant band, surprised
191
His wounds attest good service.
SAPOR.
Speak and quickly,
Of Julian—speak!
WOUNDED OFFICER.
I saw the great Apostate
Gallantly bearing up his fallen fortune
Through half the day.
SAPOR.
Speak to the purpose, ideot!
WOUNDED OFFICER.
I stood beneath a rock, a jutting rock,
That screened the plain on which his vanguard formed;
Thither he came, and that proud woman with him,
The Macedonian Queen, Eusebia,
Armed like Bellona. He was calm and solemn:
She too was pale—her white lips were compressed;
While her quick eyes glanced round, 'neath lowering brows,
192
He sprang upon his horse.
NOHORDATES.
I marked the despot—
Even like an arrow on the wind, he rode
His winged courser, and with noble daring
Swept with his chivalrous escort past our front,
Even at the stormy edge of chasing battle.
Our arrows touched him not, his life was charmed!
Sudden he reined his horse up, raised his helmet,
And shouting thrice aloud, waved his bare hand.
A chosen troop rushed forward—then he turned
His charger round, and in short circle wheeling,
With a loud cry triumphantly rushed on us.
MERANES.
He seemed a super-human presence, fraught
With an unearthly valour, demon phrensy!
A fiend was surely in his heart and arm;
Satanic majesty was in his eye.
The war-mist rolling round him; his keen sword
Flashed like hot lightning, bright and terrible—
He seemed as moving in a thunder-cloud.
193
And that black horse—an hellish birth was he too.
I saw his gaping nostrils red with fire,
A foam of gore he tossed from his dark jaws,
In his reverted eyes blazed swarthy flames.
His proud hoofs, as they pawed the air and struck
Sparks from the spurned earth, seemed shod in Hell
With penal steel.
MERANES.
'Twas so—and his sad bearing,
When some good sword struck his crowned helmet off,
Did well become that thought. His teeth were clenched,
His cheeks were bloodless, and his hollow eyes
Dark with accumulated agony.
Yet were his features passionless—a calm
And terrible despair, a marble stillness,
(As if some inward fire had charred his heart,)
Looked out from him immoveable. Most awful!
Dread contrast with the tempest of that hour!
194
Why, this is well—though somewhat more of praise
Haply than he deserves. Yet does his fame
Augment our glory: know ye no more?
OFFICER.
I saw him
Headlong on earth, rolled from his dying horse,
That foundered o'er a heap of carcases.
He fell: just then a trooper suddenly
Reared his stout horse, half turned, and, backward leaning,
Thrust down his lance and pinned him to the ground.
I saw him rise against the mortal steel
And wrench it in the wound, like a spent tiger;
Then, heaving on his knee, with backward stroke
Hamstring the horse: that with a plunge, fell prone.
Stunned by the fall, his rider lay all senseless;
When Julian freed plucked forth the shaft and leaped
Upon his breast and stabbed him. Some few friends
Rushed to the rescue and I saw no more:
195
With fate, and full of death.
SAPOR.
There 's gold for thee,
Thy tidings are the best. Now, forward—forward,
Storm their proud camp: I will not leave a Roman
To tell the tale.
MERANES.
Pause, conqueror of kings,
The troops are faint with carnage. Havoc has left
Strange chasms in our battalia.
SAPOR.
Slave! I ask not
The Gods to spare men's lives: 'tis victory
That I command. Forward, I say.
(Exeunt.
Julian The Apostate | ||