University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene I.

—The Hall of the Palace illuminated—Sardanapalus and his Guests at Table.—A storm without, and Thunder occasionally heard during the Banquet.
Sar.
Fill full! why this is as it should be: here
Is my true realm, amidst bright eyes and faces
Happy as fair! Here sorrow cannot reach.

Zam.
Nor elsewhere—where the King is, pleasure sparkles.

Sar.
Is not this better now than Nimrod's huntings,
Or my wild Grandam's chase in search of kingdoms
She could not keep when conquered?

Alt.
Mighty though
They were, as all thy royal line have been,
Yet none of those who went before have reached
The acmé of Sardanapalus, who
Has placed his joy in peace—the sole true glory.

Sar.
And pleasure, good Altada, to which glory
Is but the path. What is it that we seek?
Enjoyment! We have cut the way short to it,
And not gone tracking it through human ashes,
Making a grave with every footstep.

Zam.
No;
All hearts are happy, and all voices bless
The King of peace—who holds a world in jubilee.

Sar.
Art sure of that? I have heard otherwise;
Some say that there be traitors.

Zam.
Traitors they
Who dare to say so!—'Tis impossible.
What cause?

Sar.
What cause? true,—fill the goblet up;
We will not think of them: there are none such,
Or if there be, they are gone.

Alt.
[Zames and the Guests kneel, and exclaim—

[It thunders as they kneel; some start up in confusion.
Zam.
Why do you rise, my friends? in that strong peal
His father gods consented.

Myr.
Menaced, rather.
King, wilt thou bear this mad impiety?

Sar.
Impiety!—nay, if the sires who reigned
Before me can be Gods, I'll not disgrace
Their lineage. But arise, my pious friends;
Hoard your devotion for the Thunderer there:
I seek but to be loved, not worshipped.

Alt.
Both—
Both you must ever be by all true subjects.

Sar.
Methinks the thunders still increase: it is
An awful night.

Myr.
Oh yes, for those who have
No palace to protect their worshippers.

Sar.
That's true, my Myrrha; and could I convert
My realm to one wide shelter for the wretched,
I'd do it.

Myr.
Thou'rt no God, then—not to be
Able to work a will so good and general,
As thy wish would imply.

Sar.
And your Gods, then,
Who can, and do not?

Myr.
Do not speak of that,
Lest we provoke them.

Sar.
True—, they love not censure
Better than mortals. Friends, a thought has struck me:
Were there no temples, would there, think ye, be
Air worshippers? that is, when it is angry,
And pelting as even now.

Myr.
The Persian prays
Upon his mountain.

Sar.
Yes, when the Sun shines.

Myr.
And I would ask if this your palace were
Unroofed and desolate, how many flatterers
Would lick the dust in which the King lay low?

Alt.
The fair Ionian is too sarcastic
Upon a nation whom she knows not well;
The Assyrians know no pleasure but their King's,
And homage is their pride.

Sar.
Nay, pardon, guests,
The fair Greek's readiness of speech.

Alt.
Pardon! sire:
We honour her of all things next to thee.
Hark! what was that?

Zam.
That! nothing but the jar
Of distant portals shaken by the wind.

Alt.
It sounded like the clash of—hark again!

Zam.
The big rain pattering on the roof.

Sar.
No more.
Myrrha, my love, hast thou thy shell in order?
Sing me a song of Sappho; her, thou know'st,
Who in thy country threw—

Enter Pania, with his sword and garments bloody, and disordered. The guests rise in confusion.
Pan.
(to the Guards).
Look to the portals;
And with your best speed to the walls without.
Your arms! To arms! The King's in danger. Monarch
Excuse this haste,—'tis faith.

Sar.
Speak on.

Pan.
It is
As Salemenes feared; the faithless Satraps—

Sar.
You are wounded—give some wine. Take breath, good Pania.

Pan.
'Tis nothing—a mere flesh wound. I am worn
More with my speed to warn my sovereign,
Than hurt in his defence.

Myr.
Well, Sir, the rebels?

Pan.
Soon as Arbaces and Beleses reached
Their stations in the city, they refused
To march; and on my attempt to use the power
Which I was delegated with, they called
Upon their troops, who rose in fierce defiance.

Myr.
All?

Pan.
Too many.

Sar.
Spare not of thy free speech,
To spare mine ears—the truth.

Pan.
My own slight guard
Were faithful, and what's left of it is still so.

Myr.
And are these all the force still faithful?

Pan.
No—
The Bactrians, now led on by Salemenes,
Who even then was on his way, still urged
By strong suspicion of the Median chiefs,
Are numerous, and make strong head against
The rebels, fighting inch by inch, and forming
An orb around the palace, where they mean
To centre all their force, and save the King.
(He hesitates.)
I am charged to—

Myr.
'Tis no time for hesitation.

Pan.
Prince Salemenes doth implore the King
To arm himself, although but for a moment,
And show himself unto the soldiers: his
Sole presence in this instant might do more
Than hosts can do in his behalf.

Sar.
What, ho!
My armour there.

Myr.
And wilt thou?

Sar.
Will I not?
Ho, there!—but seek not for the buckler: 'tis
Too heavy:—a light cuirass and my sword.
Where are the rebels?

Pan.
Scarce a furlong's length
From the outward wall the fiercest conflict rages.

Sar.
Then I may charge on horseback. Sfero, ho!
Order my horse out.—There is space enough
Even in our courts, and by the outer gate,
To marshal half the horsemen of Arabia.

[Exit Sfero for the armour.
Myr.
How I do love thee!

Sar.
I ne'er doubted it.

Myr.
But now I know thee.

Sar.
(to his Attendant).
Bring down my spear too—
Where's Salemenes?

Pan.
Where a soldier should be,
In the thick of the fight.

Sar.
Then hasten to him—Is
The path still open, and communication
Left 'twixt the palace and the phalanx?

Pan.
'Twas
When I late left him, and I have no fear;
Our troops were steady, and the phalanx formed.

Sar.
Tell him to spare his person for the present,
And that I will not spare my own—and say,
I come.

Pan.
There's victory in the very word.

[Exit Pania.
Sar.
Altada—Zames—forth, and arm ye! There
Is all in readiness in the armoury.
See that the women are bestowed in safety
In the remote apartments: let a guard
Be set before them, with strict charge to quit
The post but with their lives—command it, Zames.
Altada, arm yourself, and return here;
Your post is near our person.

[Exeunt Zames, Altada, and all save Myrrha.
Enter Sfero and others with the King's Arms, etc.
Sfe.
King! your armour.

Sar.
(arming himself).
Give me the cuirass—so: my baldric; now
My sword: I had forgot the helm—where is it?
That's well—no, 'tis too heavy; you mistake, too—
It was not this I meant, but that which bears
A diadem around it.

Sfe.
Sire, I deemed
That too conspicuous from the precious stones
To risk your sacred brow beneath—and trust me,
This is of better metal, though less rich.

Sar.
You deemed! Are you too turned a rebel? Fellow!
Your part is to obey: return, and—no—
It is too late—I will go forth without it.

Sfe.
At least, wear this.

Sar.
Wear Caucasus! why, 'tis
A mountain on my temples.

Sfe.
Sire, the meanest
Soldier goes not forth thus exposed to battle.
All men will recognise you—for the storm
Has ceased, and the moon breaks forth in her brightness.

Sar.
I go forth to be recognised, and thus
Shall be so sooner. Now—my spear! I'm armed.
[In going stops short, and turns to Sfero.
Sfero—I had forgotten—bring the mirror.

Sfe.
The mirror, Sire?

Sar.
Yes, sir, of polished brass,
Brought from the spoils of India—but be speedy.

[Exit Sfero.
Sar.
Myrrha, retire unto a place of safety.
Why went you not forth with the other damsels?

Myr.
Because my place is here.

Sar.
And when I am gone—

Myr.
I follow.

Sar.
You! to battle?

Myr.
If it were so,
'Twere not the first Greek girl had trod the path.
I will await here your return.

Sar.
The place
Is spacious, and the first to be sought out,
If they prevail; and, if it be so,
And I return not—

Myr.
Still we meet again.

Sar.
How?

Myr.
In the spot where all must meet at last—
In Hades! if there be, as I believe,
A shore beyond the Styx; and if there be not,
In ashes.

Sar.
Darest thou so much?

Myr.
I dare all things
Except survive what I have loved, to be
A rebel's booty: forth, and do your bravest.

Re-enter Sfero with the mirror.
Sar.
(looking at himself).
This cuirass fits me well, the baldric better,
And the helm not at all. Methinks I seem
[Flings away the helmet after trying it again.
Passing well in these toys; and now to prove them.
Altada! Where's Altada?

Sfe.
Waiting, Sire,
Without: he has your shield in readiness.

Sar.
True—I forgot—he is my shield-bearer
By right of blood, derived from age to age.
Myrrha, embrace me;—yet once more—once more—
Love me, whate'er betide. My chiefest glory
Shall be to make me worthier of your love.

Myr.
[Exeunt Sardanapalus and Sfero.
[She draws forth a small vial.

Enter Altada.
Alt.
Ho, Sfero, ho!

Myr.
He is not here; what wouldst thou with him? How
Goes on the conflict?

Alt.
Dubiously and fiercely.

Myr.
And the King?

Alt.
Like a king. I must find Sfero,
And bring him a new spear with his own helmet.
He fights till now bare-headed, and by far
Too much exposed. The soldiers knew his face,
And the foe too; and in the moon's broad light,
His silk tiara and his flowing hair
Make him a mark too royal. Every arrow
Is pointed at the fair hair and fair features,
And the broad fillet which crowns both.

Myr.
Ye Gods,
Who fulminate o'er my father's land, protect him!
Were you sent by the King?

Alt.
By Salemenes,
Who sent me privily upon this charge,
Without the knowledge of the careless sovereign.
The King! the King fights as he revels! ho!
What, Sfero! I will seek the armoury—
He must be there.

[Exit Altada.
Myr.
'Tis no dishonour—no—
'Tis no dishonour to have loved this man.
I almost wish now, what I never wished
Before—that he were Grecian. If Alcides
Were shamed in wearing Lydian Omphale's
She-garb, and wielding her vile distaff; surely
He, who springs up a Hercules at once,
Nursed in effeminate arts from youth to manhood,
And rushes from the banquet to the battle,
As though it were a bed of love, deserves
That a Greek girl should be his paramour,
And a Greek bard his minstrel—a Greek tomb
His monument. How goes the strife, sir?

Enter an Officer.
Officer.
Lost,
Lost almost past recovery. Zames! Where
Is Zames?

Myr.
Posted with the guard appointed
To watch before the apartment of the women.

[Exit Officer.
Myr.
(sola).
He's gone; and told no more than that all's lost!
What need have I to know more? In those words,
Those little words, a kingdom and a king,
A line of thirteen ages, and the lives
Of thousands, and the fortune of all left
With life, are merged; and I, too, with the great,
Like a small bubble breaking with the wave
Which bore it, shall be nothing. At the least,
My fate is in my keeping: no proud victor
Shall count me with his spoils.

Enter Pania.
Pan.
Away with me,
Myrrha, without delay; we must not lose
A moment—all that's left us now.

Myr.
The King?

Pan.
Sent me here to conduct you hence, beyond
The river, by a secret passage.

Myr.
Then
He lives—

Pan.
And charged me to secure your life,
And beg you to live on for his sake, till
He can rejoin you.

Myr.
Will he then give way?

Pan.
Not till the last. Still, still he does whate'er
Despair can do; and step by step disputes
The very palace.

Myr.
They are here, then:—aye,
Their shouts come ringing through the ancient halls,
Never profaned by rebel echoes till
This fatal night. Farewell, Assyria's line!
Farewell to all of Nimrod! Even the name
Is now no more.

Pan.
Away with me—away!

Myr.
No: I'll die here!—Away, and tell your King
I loved him to the last.

Enter Sardanapalus and Salemenes with Soldiers. Pania quits Myrrha, and ranges himself with them.
Sar.
Since it is thus,
We'll die where we were born—in our own halls.
Serry your ranks—stand firm. I have despatched
A trusty satrap for the guard of Zames,
All fresh and faithful; they'll be here anon.
All is not over.—Pania, look to Myrrha.

[Pania returns towards Myrrha.
Sal.
We have breathing time; yet once more charge, my friends—
One for Assyria!

Sar.
Rather say for Bactria!
My faithful Bactrians, I will henceforth be
King of your nation, and we'll hold together
This realm as province.

Sal.
Hark! they come—they come.

Enter Beleses and Arbaces with the Rebels.
Arb.
Set on, we have them in the toil. Charge! charge!

Bel.
On! on!—Heaven fights for us, and with us—On!

[They charge the King and Salemenes with their troops, who defend themselves till the arrival of Zames with the Guard before mentioned. The Rebels are then driven off, and pursued by Salemenes, etc. As the King is going to join the pursuit, Beleses crosses him.
Bel.
Ho! tyrant—I will end this war.

Sar.
Even so,
My warlike priest, and precious prophet, and
Grateful and trusty subject: yield, I pray thee.
I would reserve thee for a fitter doom,
Rather than dip my hands in holy blood.

Bel.
Thine hour is come.

Sar.
No, thine.—I've lately read,
Though but a young astrologer, the stars;
And ranging round the zodiac, found thy fate
In the sign of the Scorpion, which proclaims
That thou wilt now be crushed.

Bel.
But not by thee.

[They fight; Beleses is wounded and disarmed.
Sar.
(raising his sword to despatch him, exclaims)—
Now call upon thy planets, will they shoot
From the sky to preserve their seer and credit?
[A party of Rebels enter and rescue Beleses. They assail the King, who in turn, is rescued by a Party of his Soldiers, who drive the Rebels off.
The villain was a prophet after all.
Upon them—ho! there—victory is ours.

[Exit in pursuit.
Myr.
(to Pan.).
Pursue! Why stand'st thou here, and leavest the ranks
Of fellow-soldiers conquering without thee?

Pan.
The King's command was not to quit thee.

Myr.
Me!
Think not of me—a single soldier's arm
Must not be wanting now. I ask no guard,
I need no guard: what, with a world at stake,
Keep watch upon a woman? Hence, I say,
Or thou art shamed! Nay, then, I will go forth,
A feeble female, 'midst their desperate strife,
And bid thee guard me there—where thou shouldst shield
Thy sovereign.

[Exit Myrrha.
Pan.
Yet stay, damsel!—She's gone.
If aught of ill betide her, better I
Had lost my life. Sardanapalus holds her
Far dearer than his kingdom, yet he fights
For that too; and can I do less than he,
Who never flashed a scimitar till now?
Myrrha, return, and I obey you, though
In disobedience to the monarch.

[Exit Pania.
Enter Altada and Sfero by an opposite door.
Alt.
Myrrha!
What, gone? yet she was here when the fight raged,
And Pania also. Can aught have befallen them?

Sfe.
I saw both safe, when late the rebels fled;
They probably are but retired to make
Their way back to the harem.

Alt.
If the King
Prove victor, as it seems even now he must,
And miss his own Ionian, we are doomed
To worse than captive rebels.

Sfe.
Let us trace them:
She cannot be fled far; and, found, she makes
A richer prize to our soft sovereign
Than his recovered kingdom.

Alt.
Baal himself
Ne'er fought more fiercely to win empire, than
His silken son to save it: he defies
All augury of foes or friends; and like
The close and sultry summer's day, which bodes
A twilight tempest, bursts forth in such thunder
As sweeps the air and deluges the earth.
The man's inscrutable.

Sfe.
Not more than others.
All are the sons of circumstance: away—
Let's seek the slave out, or prepare to be
Tortured for his infatuation, and
Condemned without a crime.

[Exeunt.
Enter Salemenes and Soldiers, etc.
Sal.
The triumph is
Flattering: they are beaten backward from the palace,
And we have opened regular access
To the troops stationed on the other side
Euphrates, who may still be true; nay, must be,
When they hear of our victory. But where
Is the chief victor? where's the King?

Enter Sardanapalus, cum suis, etc., and Myrrha.
Sar.
Here, brother.

Sal.
Unhurt, I hope.

Sar.
Not quite; but let it pass.
We've cleared the palace—

Sal.
And I trust the city.
Our numbers gather; and I've ordered onward
A cloud of Parthians, hitherto reserved,
All fresh and fiery, to be poured upon them
In their retreat, which soon will be a flight.

Sar.
It is already, or at least they marched
Faster than I could follow with my Bactrians,
Who spared no speed. I am spent: give me a seat.

Sal.
There stands the throne, Sire.

Sar.
'Tis no place to rest on,
For mind nor body: let me have a couch,
[They place a seat.
A peasant's stool, I care not what: so—now
I breathe more freely.

Sal.
This great hour has proved
The brightest and most glorious of your life.

Sar.
And the most tiresome. Where's my cupbearer?
Bring me some water.

Sal.
(smiling).
'Tis the first time he
Ever had such an order: even I,
Your most austere of counsellors, would now
Suggest a purpler beverage.

Sar.
Blood—doubtless.
But there's enough of that shed; as for wine,
I have learned to-night the price of the pure element:
Thrice have I drank of it, and thrice renewed,
With greater strength than the grape ever gave me,
My charge upon the rebels. Where's the soldier
Who gave me water in his helmet?

One of the Guards.
Slain, Sire!
An arrow pierced his brain, while, scattering
The last drops from his helm, he stood in act
To place it on his brows.

Sar.
[They bring water—he drinks.

Sal.
And that bandage, Sire,
Which girds your arm?

Sar.
A scratch from brave Beleses.

Myr.
Oh! he is wounded!

Sar.
Not too much of that;
And yet it feels a little stiff and painful,
Now I am cooler.

Myr.
You have bound it with—

Sar.
The fillet of my diadem: the first time
That ornament was ever aught to me,
Save an incumbrance.

Myr.
(to the Attendants).
Summon speedily
A leech of the most skilful: pray, retire:
I will unbind your wound and tend it.

Sar.
Do so,
For now it throbs sufficiently: but what
Know'st thou of wounds? yet wherefore do I ask?
Know'st thou, my brother, where I lighted on
This minion?

Sal.
Herding with the other females,
Like frightened antelopes.

Sar.
No: like the dam
Of the young lion, femininely raging
(And femininely meaneth furiously,
Because all passions in excess are female,)
Against the hunter flying with her cub,
She urged on with her voice and gesture, and
Her floating hair and flashing eyes, the soldiers,
In the pursuit.

Sal.
Indeed!

Sar.
You see, this night
Made warriors of more than me. I paused
To look upon her, and her kindled cheek;
Her large black eyes, that flashed through her long hair
As it streamed o'er her; her blue veins that rose
Along her most transparent brow; her nostril
Dilated from its symmetry; her lips
Apart; her voice that clove through all the din,
As a lute pierceth through the cymbal's clash,
Jarred but not drowned by the loud brattling; her
Waved arms, more dazzling with their own born whiteness
Than the steel her hand held, which she caught up
From a dead soldier's grasp;—all these things made
Her seem unto the troops a prophetess
Of victory, or Victory herself,
Come down to hail us hers.

Sal.
(aside).
This is too much.
Again the love-fit's on him, and all's lost,
Unless we turn his thoughts. (Aloud.)
But pray thee, Sire,
Think of your wound—you said even now 'twas painful.

Sar.
That's true, too; but I must not think of it.

Sal.
I have looked to all things needful, and will now
Receive reports of progress made in such
Orders as I had given, and then return
To hear your further pleasure.

Sar.
Be it so.

Sal.
(in retiring).
Myrrha!

Myr.
Prince!

Sal.
You have shown a soul to-night,
Which, were he not my sister's lord— But now
I have no time: thou lovest the King?

Myr.
I love
Sardanapalus.

Sal.
But wouldst have him King still?

Myr.
I would not have him less than what he should be.

Sal.
Well then, to have him King, and yours, and all
He should, or should not be; to have him live,
Let him not sink back into luxury.
You have more power upon his spirit than
Wisdom within these walls, or fierce rebellion
Raging without: look well that he relapse not.

Myr.
There needed not the voice of Salemenes
To urge me on to this: I will not fail.
All that a woman's weakness can—

Sal.
Is power
Omnipotent o'er such a heart as his:
Exert it wisely.

[Exit Salemenes.
Sar.
Myrrha! what, at whispers
With my stern brother? I shall soon be jealous.

Myr.
(smiling).
You have cause, Sire; for on the earth there breathes not
A man more worthy of a woman's love,
A soldier's trust, a subject's reverence,
A king's esteem—the whole world's admiration!

Sar.
Praise him, but not so warmly. I must not
Hear those sweet lips grow eloquent in aught
That throws me into shade; yet you speak truth.

Myr.
And now retire, to have your wound looked to,
Pray lean on me.

Sar.
Yes, love! but not from pain.

[Exeunt omnes.