University of Virginia Library

VI. AT COURT AGAIN.

Scene: An Inner Room in the Palace. The conspirators, Ameer and Sivar, together.
Ameer.
The poison 'gins to work. The wine of victory
Already blackens on his parchèd lips.
He shudders at the shout of conquest.

Sivar.
Ay!
His glances flame as they would shrivel up
The gladdened crowds, who come with eager eyes,
Crying, “Another battle won!” even as
After long droughts, and on the windy nights,
A fire goes roaring through the forest boughs.

Ameer.
He sees his diamonds dimmed in his own blood;
He sees the hand of Purmar on his crown
Fingering its jewels, and his shadow flung
Black as a death-pall o'er his tottering throne;
And every wind that carries home the news
Rustles with doom.

Sivar.
I saw the clouds of doubt
Gathering when last we spoke together. He
Pooh-poohed our foolish arguments, as one
Who, after a ghastly dream, hears the interpretation
And finds it dark as death.

Ameer.
He joys no more
In Purmar's triumphs. We were as the seers
Who make the same sign which the phantoms dread
In midnight mystery made beneath the moon,
And utter, in broad daylight, the weird words
He heard the ghostly voices whispering low.

Sivar.
He laughed at all our warnings as one laughs
Who hears the steps of ruin in the dark
Coming to meet him. All his words of trust
Were wrung from him, like drops of agony.

Ameer.
Had he not doubted first, our silly talk
Would have fallen light as April rains
On the thick walls of serried adamant
That front the sea; but now a whisper shakes him.
He starts aside as though he were suddenly stung
By some fierce serpent-thought. In festive hours
His looks grow dark, as though he saw a hand
All white and ghastly pluck the garlands green
Off the bright brows of all the laughing girls,
And painting pallid death-signs on their cheeks.
His old victorious banners whistle doom
Flapping above his throne. Down his vast halls,
In all their gloomy gorgeousness, he walks
As though he saw a sudden dagger gleam,
Poisoned and pointing at his royal heart.

Sivar.
Let's nurse these visions up to the maddening point,
When he will dare and do.

Ameer.
No heavy task!
Leave him alone and all his nightly dreams
Will swarm with lean hands beckoning but one way.

Sivar.
The cup already winks before his eyes;
Frame an excuse, and he will drain it dry!
He hates the name of Purmar now;
And all the noise of battle in his ears
Gathers in tempest for his special head.
What are the foes of Rájput now to him?
Triumph is but an ugly mockery
Whichever way it falls. The victor-wreath,
In any case, is rank and foul with death.

Ameer.
But what a sorry fool is this, to doubt
His best friend at our bidding, thus;—to “cast
His trusty brand away, because a slave
Has dared to breathe on it:”—These were his words.

Sivar.
He hath most royal notions of Purmar.
He talks of sceptres as of baubles, poor
In such a grasp; kingdoms were but as shells
Laid in so wide a palm; and diadems
Would gain great lustre on so grand a brow.
He hears his name shouted in ecstacy
On every wind of heaven. He sees his plumes
Tossing in triumph through the thick of war;
And in his ears the chariot-wheels of fate
Go thundering through the dust of coming years,
With Purmar holding by the golden reins.

Ameer.
We must strip off this gorgeous cloth of gold,
And place a beggar's weeds upon his back;
Whisper base trifles in the warrior's name,
And rob the hero of his heroism;
Pluck off his gear, and pin a whirligig
Upon the big brows of this wooden god.

Sivar.
The lion singed is but a sorry beast!

Ameer.
To look at, truly! We must trim his claws,
And draw his teeth.

Sivar.
And then, when all is done;
When we have slighted all his victories,
Trampled his broidered banners in the mire,
Tarnished the lustre of his mighty arms,
And all befouled his white and spotless fame,
And cloaked the hero up in infamy,
Then will the hatred of Sidh Râj break out
Unchecked by fear, and then—

Ameer.
Good-bye, Purmar!
And then for scornful Hayti.

Sivar.
Ay, and then,
When this gigantic bugbear is no more—
We need not boast nor bully, but may say—
Monarchs have sat more safely than Sidh Râj!