University of Virginia Library

Scene I.—The Shore at Sestos.

Parmenio, Philotas, Cassander, Ptolemy.
Par.
Arrived in time: our transports, there they lie!
Embark the troops! He throws on me the tasks
That need the practised hand. Calas, yon tide
Will try the nerves of your Thessalian steeds,
And point their boding ears.

Phi.
Nicanor, mark!
Sea-born Abydos beckons us with smile
Saucy as Hero's. Death is death, or else
I'd have Leander's luck.

Par.
In this, my sons,
Our visionary prince shows fair ensample:
Glory he woos, not Pleasure.

Ptol.
Glory, or Empire?
For these are twain.

Par.
And which he most affects,
Then when your chronicle is writ and ended
The Athenian dialectic shall resolve.
Old Macedon, by Greeks barbaric styled,
Thank thou thy gods, and, after them, thy snows,
The strong heart still is thine!

Cas.
How those huge galleys
Dash the dark wave to silver! Touching the king—

Par.
What know I of the king? He sits in Persia.

Cas.
I meant our Macedonian.

Par.
Alexander?
Then call him by his name. A babe, I danced him;
A child, before me held him on my horse:
I am too old to orientalize.

Ptol.
He owes you much.

Par.
A realm his father owed me,
And knew it well. The son is reverent too,
But with a difference, sir. In Philip's time
My voice was Delphic on the battle-field:
This young man taps the springs of my experience
As though with water to allay his wine
Of keener inspirations. “Speak thy thought,
Parmenio!” Ere my words are half way out
He nods approval, or he smiles dissent.
Still, there is like him none! I marvelled oft
To see him breast that tempest from the north,
Drowning revolt in the Danubian wave.
The foe in sight, instant he knew their numbers;
If distant, guessed their whereabout—how lay
The intermediate tract—if fordable
The streams—the vales accessible to horse:
'Twas like the craft of beasts remote from man.

Phi.
Father, you ever boast the king reveres you;
I say, he flouts you in the army's face:
You rail; but still he conquers.

Par.
Son, 'tis so;
Young gamesters have their luck.

Phi.
He slights you daily,
And for your sake slights me. Last eve he passed me
(His hand was heavy on Hephestion's shoulder,
The Phalanx saw it, and the Silver Shields),
Vouchsafing me no word.