The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere

Antigonus, Eumenes, Seleucus, Craterus, Peucestas, Amyntas, Phylax.
Ant.
At Susa once again! Why, this is Greece!
One time it seemed the eastern edge of earth;
Measured by that great space we have tracked, 'tis home.

Eum.
Six years ago we gazed on yonder palace:
In three we conquered Asia's eastern half;
India in three!

Sel.
India! once more I ee it,
Once more I tread its palm-groves and its plains,
I scan the red sun through the sandy mist,
And hear the lion's roar. Our earlier conquests
Were prelude notes—no more.

Amy.
I am late arrived:
Recount the tale.

Sel.
'Twas victory, day by day:
'Twas victory till, the appetite itself
Satiate with triumphs, in our host remained
Nought but the base uxorious homeward craving.
The Indus and Hydaspes we had crossed,
The Hydraotes and the Acecines;
Then, as a gathering tide, or desert flame
That nearer draws, was heard a deepening murmur
And as on banks of Hyphasis we stood
That murmur found a voice. The army sware
To march no farther east. The king but smiled,
And bade them make encampment, and take rest.
Next day, at noon, he flung that strength of words,
Upon them which till then they ne'er withstood,
And, ceasing, looked around with eye ablaze.
Then first I saw a wonder in that face:
He gazed, and passed into his tent alone;
There lonely sat three days. The silence 'twas
Taught him the host's resolve.

Amy.
What held it silent?

Sel.
Fate, or the reverence of remorseful gods
That knew their man. That Indian Seer at last
Made good his way into the royal tent:

What passed none knows. At eve the king gave word:—
Ere long we sailed a-down Hydaspes' flood.

Ant.
Hydaspes never saw a sight like that!
An army on each side, and, in the midst,
Two thousand ships!

Peu.
Forests were felled to build them!
The winds will miss their playmates many an age.
The nations shivered that beheld our coming,
Sibas, Ossadian, Sogdian, Sudracæ;—
The Malli fought the best.

Sel.
The world's great scales
Trembled that day! Our king—I see him still—
By him three friends—a host of foes in front!
'Twas you that saved him!

Peu.
'Twas that Argive shield
In fortunate hour plucked from the Trojan fane.
I held it high: it triumphed!

Sel.
Down we sailed
To the ocean flood, and made our vows, and buried
The sacrificial goblet in the wave.
Next, month by month we tracked Gedrosian sands:
The army of Semiramis slept beneath them,
The army of great Cyrus. Thousands died:
The rest pushed on. At last green-girt Carmania
Embowered us in her ever-flowering vales;
And, chapleted with vine, westward we sped,
Till, past all hope, we kenned our fleet and clasped
Old comrades mourned as dead.

Ptol.
We have told our story,
And made an honest boast. Our toils have rest:
Not less the king may find that peace hath dangers
Worse than the worst in war.

Ant.
The gods are with him.

Sel.
The gods of Greece are with him, but not all;
And gods can change, like men.

Ant.
'Tis true! let none
That's pious trust the gods, however friendly,
But, sharp-eyed watch and serve them.

Phy.
O ye gods!
I'll keep a dog to help me at my watch,
Noting your humours! Lords, if danger threaten,
'Tis Persia breeds that danger. Orxines—
There was a Persian, noble, brave, their richest
Satrap of Persis, faithful to our king—
He's dead, and by the king's command, and wherefore?

‘He (Alexander) was strangely disturbed in mind when he came to understand what havock had been made of the tomb of Cyrus, which, as Aristobulus tells us, he found rifled and broken in pieces. This tomb was placed in the Royal Gardens at Pasargadæ, and round it was planted a grove of all kinds of trees: the place also was well watered, and the surface of the earth all round clothed with a beautiful verdure. The basis thereof consisted of one large stone of a quadrangular form. Above was a small edifice with an arched roof of stone, and a door, or entrance, so very narrow that the slenderest man could scarce pass through. Within this edifice was the golden coffin, wherein the body of Cyrus was preserved, as also the bed whose supporters were of massy gold curiously wrought; the covering thereof was of Babylonian tapestry; the carpets underneath of the finest wrought purple. . . . The inscription, which was wrote in the Persian language, was to this purpose: “O mortal, I am Cyrus, the son of Cambyses, founder of the Persian monarchy, and Sovereign of Asia. Grudge me not therefore this monument.”’—Arrian, translated by Rooke, vol. ii. p. 132.

Why, 'twas a cry from bones, from offal, dust!
We passed Pasargadæ upon our march:
We found the tomb of Cyrus sack'd for gold:—
A crime they called it—named it some strange name—
'Twas sacrilege!

Ptol.
Persia is not the danger:
He's vulnerable inly, not without,
Through that fierce will which makes of wrath a madness,
Turns love to doom. Hephestion's brave and wise;
He takes an ample sweep of virtues; still
In valour he's not greater than Seleucus,
Than Craterus in insight: yet the king
Holds him more precious than the total host:
Such love is peril: 'tis to keep two bodies,
Two separate tenements of one frail life,
And obvious each to Fortune's shaft—or Fate's.

Sel.
Phylax, what mean you by those twinkling eyes?
You are bright, yet dark. In you two Demons kiss
With love malign.

Phy.
Your pardon, mighty lord;
I smiled at perils bred from the affections:
I've heard of such ere now, but met them never.

A Messenger
(entering).
The council meets at sunset, lords.

Several Generals.

Make speed!

[They depart.
Phy.
Philotas, you were wiser than I knew!
“'Tis there he's vulnerable.” Hate is insight.

University of Virginia Library

Scene I.—Susa, in front of the Palace.